at long last

Art. Of a kind. Some of you may recall that I'm participating in a sketchbook exchange -- two actually. The first was so much fun, most of us have re-upped for another round despite not been completely done with round one. So this is a page from another of the Round 1 books. (I'm only months behind getting this done and out of the house -- head's up, Katie Jane)

watercolor paper, pastel, mulberry paper,
advert postcard, advert magazine page, gel medium

Now I can start on my book for Round 2 and on my page in the so-lovely-it's scary book that arrived yesterday.

Excelsior.

provocation

There's been a death in my extended surrogate family and I've also been down for a while with that nasty virus that's been making the rounds and so have been preoccupied and not doing much other than brooding.

Coincidentally, and for the first time (I know, I know), I recently have seen the film Rocky. I've been avoiding it for decades because I cannot -- can NOT -- begin to imagine the attraction of watching two men brutalize each other for money, or even to pretend to do so. But it was on one of the cable stations that shows films without commercials and since it was free I thought I'd see what all the fuss is about. And now I am haunted by Burgess Meredith as the trainer Mickey saying: "It's not a living -- it's a waste of a life." Not haunted so much by the words as by the spontaneous fury with which he delivered them.

Death and loss makes you think about life. I have nothing either profound or platitudinous to say about it, just that I've been preoccupied and therefore absent.

good questions

So.
March came in like a lion bearing gifts of freelance work and a virus. The kind of virus that provokes fever and interferes with both day jobs and freelance work, however short the deadline. So, I've been preoccupied -- when awake, that is, which has been rare. But I think I've turned the corner toward robustiousness [< btw: that's not a real word].

Also.
Recently a friend has been meditating on the condition of longing. Today the mail brought the spring catalog for Omega in Rhinebeck NY. And the book fell open to a weekend workshop in August called: Something to Live For, Repacking Your Bags for the Second Half of Life. The course description includes these questions:

-How do we find renewed meaning and how does this express itself in our life's work?

-How do we discover new maps, provisions, and travel partners?

-What is calling us and how do we discern our calling?

This sounds like a tall order for a weekend workshop -- even given (as we are in the catalog) that Forbes magazine rated the workshop leader as "one of the top five coaches in the nation." But these are good questions at any time and it seems that, maybe, there's something in the air other than mischievous microbes.