Sunday, October 9, 2011
It's not often we are given the gift of recognizing how blessed we truly are. I glimpsed that Friday night. It was the opening reception for my show; Mind-Field, Creative Explorations, at LaGrange Art Gallery. It was 6 pm and we were ready. My husband, son, daughter, daughter-in-law, the wine, the cheese, the fruit, the cupcakes, all waiting for the first visitors to arrive. Then it was 6:17 and I was beginning to wonder, "where is everyone?" And secretly worrying no one would come.
Then the door opened and it didn't stop opening for quite some time. Two of the first to arrive were Joyce and Jodi, who flew from Boston to help me celebrate my first solo reception. Soon the gallery was packed, and it was a real party, a celebration of artists and art collectors, looking, talking, observing. I was caught up in it all. It was sheer wonderful.
The next day, while walking Max and Mollie, I went into the quiet and thought about what it meant for all those people to take their time and come to the gallery to see me and the world I create on canvas. And I realized, it was love. The love of giving, the love of celebration, the love of being. And this was joy.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
you leave me
behind my eyes.
Since I went through chemotherapy, 4 years, 7 months ago, Insomnia has been an unwelcome monthly guest in my bed. She normally arrives between 1:14 - 2:47 am.
While she visits, she talks incessantly and quietly, in my head. As much as I toss, turn, or thrash, she remains comfortably nestled between the passages of my mind, filling me with poetry, conversation, nightmare visions, beauty, questions, answers, everything but sleep.
Eventually she convinces me sleep is simply a verb, and I accept by putting my feet on the ground and getting out of bed, wondering if she will stay another day or two, or disappear until next month.