In Seattle, I didn’t know where I was going, until I arrived. The cute cafe looked and felt inviting so I went in. I contemplated which dark mocha to order briefly, feeling slightly overwhelmed at having so many options. (I always imagine a more simple world where menus change frequently but never offer more than about
3 beverage options =P)
I sat at a small table and was immediately inspired by the panoramic interior before me. I was reminded of curvilinear perspective from an art book I’d browsed a while back. I took out my pencil and began to draw.
I identify myself as an artist not because of my artistic ability, but because of how my soul feels when I face the blank paper. Line by line, I just draw. I am in flow, and I am where I am supposed to be and I am who I am supposed to be. I feel somehow that each time I translate my experience into a drawing or painting, I am bringing something of importance into the world. Even if, like a delicious bite of food, the painting is seen and quickly forgotten by others, I believe in its “nourishment”.. that it brought a little more light into our world.
I don’t know why I am this way, but I am not so interested in “why” anymore. I just want to tell my story.
..that whether I’m in Seattle, or any other place, the joy of “being” myself lies not so much in where I happen to be, but in the realization that I am allowed to be who I am. I suspect we are all allowed to be who we truly are in our inner-world. In my experience, that is the one “trip” that takes bravery just to embark on. It’s also the only place that contains what I like to call “the quiet joy.” It’s not the joy of anticipation. It is the simple joy of being.
Snowy Seattle~ November 2017