I am painting now a days. Lots and lots of painting. With wax, with tar, with plaster, with oil, with glue, with fire. Painting. All this painting is being punctuated by regular dusting, organizing, scrubbing, pulling baby beets from my 4'x10' garden plot and mowing my lawn of similar dimensions. Yet mostly painting and painting and painting. Just as I desired my days to enfold this summer: To fall gently into the peace of not being beckoned to fill a belly or find clean socks. After the first day of stabbing anxiety at the emptiness in this change to alone, I have found the zen that has been suggested exists in the acceptance of quiet.
Waking at 4am to plug in the palette, organize the papers, listen to the bird chirp and sip the coffee. Eating lunch over an arrangement of carving tools and watching the sun set while hitting firing up the propane torch. Doing, seeing, acting, feeling, being-just as I want. Just as I need. Just as I feel. Selfish. Entirely, self indulgently selfish. Yet, accepting this and simply moving with it is giving me so much learning, so much feeling, so much accepting and so much love. Recognizing the value in alone; and the deep necessary value of every rich, difficult, blessed, challenging bit of life. in love. trish
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