Art is my immersion in joy. It is birth and cleansing, baptism in my own private Ganges and all manner of dipping into and refilling my cup. After a wonderful show last week, and another sale, I went home like a plant when the rain wets its feet and it soaks in springtime by the roots. The marshes are welling up with water so the birds have lovely refuge for perching and eating bugs. I see almost imperceptable movement in the brush, then sense how full it is with birds. Twitches of dunn on dark, light is slivered as tiny forms flit. I see their songs now, as the water brings them to the brush dance.
I have little to add, but so much more to paint. Like gentle rain for my new world of becoming deafened this year, my old friends from the hearing world have come back to me, and my new friends in the Deaf world reach out to me. I get rain and sunshine, both. I am a fortunate plant indeed with compassionate forces to open me to springtime.
Simple things make powerful energy. Two of my friends (who don't know each other) reminded me: before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment; chop wood, carry water. Paint because it is what is right to do. Do the next thing. Painting meditation is like Thich Nhat Hanh's walking meditation. Such joy. It is good to do what is front of me to do. Just that.
What is the next thing to do today? May you do it with your whole Being. It is refuge.
