Oil on canvas, 12x12
Donation to Deerpark/Port Jervis Humane Society
In this new universe of work, I have to remind myself to breathe, to feel, to look deeply at the landscape.
These are things I've been doing during these years of painting, and they are things I've realized I let pass me by, in all my years of working.
In those years, I rushed, I ran, I pushed, I pulled. I stared at computer screens and notebook pages, at the dark road on my way to work in the morning, and the dark road on my way home at night. For more than two decades, I barely saw the world around me, in any way that mattered.
These past years, I've seen it, lived in it, soaked it up. It has enriched my eyes, my heart, my soul. And I hope I've learned how to hold some of the grace that's come to me in these years. Hope I've learned how to balance it with the work.
This afternoon, I walked in the field with the dogs. I watched as little Woodreau ran at the top of his speed, just for the pleasure of it. I watched the afternoon sky turn pink and gold, and soak the hillocks with sunshine and with shadow. I watched the birds fly, and heard them call, and I stood and lingered while the dogs poked and sniffed and dug and sniffed some more.
I promise myself that I will seek these moments, and when I find them, treasure them and revive myself by them. I promise myself.
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