Petey and I are going to go walkabout again. We will head out for Virginia, to the Monroe Institute. This week is called, Creative Flow. It will use hemi-sync, right-brain, left-brain technology to get us into the creative zone and then turn us loose on the art supplies. (
http://www.monroeinstitute.com/) I can't imagine more fun. I hope it will improve my painting. Or my ability to see. (Or my collection of Facebook friends.)
As quoted in
Zen Seeing, Zen Drawing, "with everyone born human, a poet - an artist - is born, who dies young and who is survived by an adult." So this week will somewhat be about becoming a child again. (We could postulate an eventual passport to the Kingdom of Heaven.)
I will have a lot of prep - excursion prep, packing lists, maps and itineraries. Must remember to download this year's maps into the Garmin. She will take you "as the crow flies", eliminating the six-lane interstate in favor of the cow path over the ridge to cut across a corner, scenic but precipitous - so I need to account for her foibles in planning my timing. I call the Garmin "she" because of her voice. If I knew how, I would download a man's voice, preferably British accent, to give me directions. Then I'd call him Jeeves. Or better yet, "Kitchen". My Aunty Betty Schofield had a chauffer named Kitchen. It was one of life's greatest giggles, at three years old, when Aunty Betty would pound her cane on the back of the driver's seat, and announce, "Home, Kitchen."
There is also the matter of pulling myself up out of the depths of despair. Losing a loved one cuts the very sinews that hold me erect. So, Dear Girl, nourish the broken bits and hold them dear while they knit back together. The sweeter your embrace of yourself, the less scar tissue will be formed, and the stronger you will become.
Petey has declared a one-dog war on Gabriel, our gardener. Gabriel is planting areca palms behind the patio. Petey is testing voice against tolerance level. Voice won, tolerance broke, and I banished P to inside the house, where he is doing yeoman growling.
This is a pic of Gabriel. What's not to love? Petey says. "I say G is a burgular, and I will bark!"
