Intimacy and Camaraderie

Teotitlán del Valle. Memorial procession.

Living in a small village nestled within the vibrant landscapes of Oaxaca, Mexico, often comes with a sense of isolation. However, there's an undeniable joy that fills our hearts when we have the privilege of welcoming visitors into our home. Recently, my brother Brent and his Mexican-born wife Marabella graced us with their presence for a week-long visit, and it was an experience that reminded us of the beauty of connection. They had never been to our home before or seen our our art collection. 

As they settled into our home and also spent time in a nearby hotel in the city, we relished every moment of togetherness. It had been many years since we last saw each other, and this reunion was long overdue.

One of the most cherished aspects of their visit was the opportunity to engage in meaningful conversations in our native tongue, English.

Despite the geographical distance and time apart, our familial bond and shared experiences transcended barriers. We found solace and comfort in being able to express ourselves freely, sharing stories, memories, and laughter⏤as well as some groans remembering inevitable family mishaps growing up. 

The Tulé Tree. Largest circumference of any tree on earth. Tulé, Mexico, near Oaxaca.

Exploring the multitude of Oaxacan cultural landmarks together was a joy. From the ancient ruins of Monte Albán to the vibrant markets of nearby artisan villages such as Teotitlan del Valle, brimming with colorful textiles and crafts, and Tulé, with the grand tree standing for millennia; every moment was an opportunity to immerse ourselves in the rich tapestry of Mexican heritage. As we navigated the bustling streets, we marveled at the fusion of history and modernity that defines this enchanting region.

However, it was not just the tourist attractions that made their visit special; it was the simple moments of intimacy and camaraderie that truly enriched our time together. Whether it was sharing meals prepared with love, taking leisurely strolls through streets, or showing our home full of art and that they had never seen, every interaction was a celebration of our connection.

As they bid farewell and embarked on their journey back home, our hearts felt full, knowing that the bonds we forged during their visit would endure.

In a world that often feels fragmented and divided, moments like these remind us of the importance of opening our hearts and homes to others. Whether they come from near or far, every visitor brings with them the opportunity to learn, grow, and create lasting memories. And here in our small village in Oaxaca, Mexico, we welcome each guest with open arms, knowing that their presence enriches our lives.

Nothing Short of Magical

As we bid farewell to Santa Fe, and prepare to return to our beloved Oaxaca, Mexico, our hearts are filled with gladness. We carry with us not only cherished memories and experiences but also the kindness and love of the friends who have embraced us throughout our journey. They have touched our lives in profound ways, leaving an indelible mark on our hearts, reminding us of the power of human connection and the beauty of genuine relationships.

Not once in our month sojourn did we have to stay in a hotel or rent accommodations. Friends provided everything we needed and ensured our comfort.

Amy's mural

I have many life experiences associated with Santa Fe, having lived in “The City Different’ for over four decades. Amy too, but especially the nearby city of Taos where her family ancestry goes back four centuries. This return felt invigorating, especially stepping back into a very clean world with all the amenities and opportunities that do not exist where we live now. 

We went to Taos overnight. It is where Amy spent many years and is the land of her ancestors. While there we visited her enormous mural on the side of a wall at the University of New Mexico. Amy then went north—to Minneapolis-St.Paul for two weeks to visit with family and do some work. After she left, I had the opportunity to see my beloved daughter Sarah who lives an hour away, in Albuquerque, New Mexico. We went to the zoo there. The day was so hot that most of the animals were hiding or resting lethargically in the shade, but we enjoyed ourselves and rejoiced in our togetherness. 

I had an opportunity to experience the annual Santa Fe Folk Art Festival that draws artists and craftspeople from all over the globe for one weekend. It is a celebration of cultural diversity. 

Santa Fe has a vibrant summer music scene and many nights are alive with free concerts for the community. We discovered the joy of dancing to music alongside fellow residents, joining in the celebrations at free venues located in the charming rail yard and lively plaza. These moments of shared revelry were a testament to the unity and camaraderie that define this city. Traveling bands come from all around to play. While Amy was gone, I went alone to hear the music and often ran into people from my past that I had forgotten.

Sarah at Albuquerque Zoo

I had time for walks in the National forest in the mountains above Santa Fe, and to drive into the Rio Grande Gorge and follow the river for awhile. The days have been exceedingly hot, so it was cool respite to find a stream where I could sit in a pool by boulders under cascading water.

Generous souls have donated art supplies for us to take back to the children we serve in our pueblo. We have two suitcases full of materials and projects.

During our time in Santa Fe, we embarked on various endeavors that required our attention. Among them was the task of selling items we had been storing, which provided an opportunity to declutter and move forward with renewed purpose. 

The time in Santa Fe, New Mexico, has been nothing short of magical. The kindness and love of friends, breathtaking landscapes, the vibrant community, and the invaluable moments of reconnection have shaped this chapter of my life into an unforgettable tale.  In parting, we acknowledge the true spirit of reciprocity and gratitude, for our dear friends have bestowed upon us gifts to share with our neighbors in our humble pueblo in Oaxaca. As we journey back to our Mexican abode, we carry these offerings as a symbol of the interconnectedness we have fostered during our time in Santa Fe. It is through the act of giving and sharing that we can create a ripple effect of kindness, extending the love we have received to those around us.

With my friend Paul White on left

As I bid adieu to this remarkable city, I am reminded that it is the people and the relationships we cultivate that truly make a place feel like home. Santa Fe will forever hold a special place in my heart, and I carry with me the lessons learned and the love shared as I embark on the next chapter of my fairytale life.

Memories We Create

Amy and I left behind our beautiful home in Oaxaca, Mexico, and returned to the embrace of Santa Fe, New Mexico, where we had spent four decades of our lives. As we embarked on this transition, we found ourselves immersed in a whirlwind of gratitude, hospitality, and the remarkable kindness of friends old and new. Neighbors Marta, Mayolo and our comrade and house sitter Azul all sent us off two weeks ago with loving warmth . . . and Santa Fe friends picked us up at the airport to take us to the grand home of a couple who collect our art and offered their place and car for us while they are in their other home in Milwaukee.

With daughter Sarah who came
 from Albuquerque to visit.

Remarkably, in our travels thus far has been the absence of traditional arrangements like renting a car or booking lodging. Instead, we have been blessed with the good fortune of finding exceptional places to stay through the open arms and graciousness of dear friends.
As we prepared for this journey, our hearts were warmed by the knowledge that our Oaxaca house and beloved pet dog would be cared for in our absence. The generosity to take on such responsibility is a testament to the profound sense of hospitality that permeates the human spirit.

Everywhere we have been met with love and caring. We took a trip to Taos and stayed with friends . . . and in the past week we have stayed in the house I built with my ex-wife Jean, about thirty years ago. We are house sitting for nine days and caring for her two cats while she attends a creative dance gathering in Tucson. 

There is an enchantment that comes with staying in a space that carries the imprints of love, friendship, and shared experiences. Especially living once again in the house I built and raised my daughters in has caused many emotions to well up—an amalgamation of memories, laughter, and deep connection shared. I take note and understand it is all part of the context of my life.

Further, we have received donations of art supplies to take back to Oaxaca and give to our poor neighbor pueblo children who come to our home once a week for art classes.

These homes have become havens of respite, offering not only a place to rest our weary bodies but also a canvas upon which new memories are painted. Within their walls, we have found solace, comfort, and the sense of belonging that only true friendships can provide.

When we traverse the landscapes of Mexico, we are continually humbled by the acts of kindness and warmth shown to us by strangers-turned-friends. Whether it's an offer to help us with something important we do not understand, a heartfelt conversation over a home-cooked meal, or the simple act of a warm embrace, hospitality has touched our hearts and reaffirmed our faith in the inherent goodness of humanity.

Same in the USA. We have felt great love and hospitality.

Amy and her mural in Taos

Amy leaves for Minneapolis tomorrow to see her sons and relatives for two weeks.
Jean returns and I will move on . . . to another home. A friend has offered me a bedroom. Then Amy will return here and we will go home to Oaxaca together.

Our hearts are filled with profound appreciation for the hospitality we have received, and we recognize the transformative power of genuine connections. As we continue to embrace the unknown and navigate the winding roads that lie ahead, we carry the spirit of hospitality in our hearts, knowing that wherever we find ourselves, there will always be a place to call home.

In the end, it is the people we meet, the friendships we forge, and the memories we create that truly define our journey.

Buen Viaje

 

Travel has become so complicated. Today’s world is one of peril.

My earliest memory of flying was when I was about four years old. I was with my father in a commercial prop plane flying at night. People were happily smoking in the cabin so it was hazy. My father pointed out the window to city lights gleaming below us.  A young stewardess came, spoke with my dad, then took me by hand to the front of the plane into the cockpit. The pilot smiled, said hello and pointed out all the glowing controls. I could see the vast darkness the plane was hurdling through. Given my flying wings, I went back to my seat. Maybe I remember all that because of the openness and love of that magical journey.

It could not happen in today’s world. The tragedy of airplane hijackings and mass destruction on 911 changed travel. Hidden bombs have blasted airplanes full of passengers out of the skies. Everyone is suspect of evil. People and items are scanned for contraband. Everyone must partially undress before proceeding to the gates, and go through scanners. Multi document checks are required. 

Now, in the time of mass pandemics, even more obstacles must be negotiated before reaching a seat aboard a plane.

In two days I leave Oaxaca, Mexico.  Amy already is in Minneapolis with her family. We meet on May 17th in Washington DC. I will attend a high school reunion and see my brother and his family. Then on May 22 we go to Venice, Italy. We will also visit Assisi, and Rome before returning to Oaxaca June 9.

When Amy left, I started coughing, sneezing and had congestion. After a couple days, it dawned on me that if I have covid our trip would be ruined. Everything is booked in advance. In a bit of panic I went to a local lab and paid 25 dollars for a test. A half hour later I got the result: negative. Good Lord! 

To get into the United States, test results taken 24 hours before boarding is required. I still have slight cold symptoms. 

I have been praying a powerful prayer called the Long Healing Prayer. 

Meditation tells me I do not have covid. I hope it is right.

My neighbor Mayolo, his wife Marta, and granddaughter Frida came to the house on my birthday a couple days ago. They brought dinner and a birthday cake. Then we watched the Disney movie, “Coco”. I don’t speak Spanish and they don’t speak English. No matter.

Mayolo will come get me on Tuesday and take me to the airport for my 10 AM flight to Washington DC.  His daughter Kaoni, son in law Carlos  and Frida are house sitting for us. I saw them today. We went over details about the house. 

The last thing Kaoni said was “buen viaje” or good travels.

Two Doves

 

We all knew it was a message of love coming from heaven above. A once in a lifetime display never to be seen again. It’s been nineteen years since it happened but is still mentioned and makes me think how SPIRIT can use all creation to communicate to humans. Moreover, beings in the next world can give us physical signs that write indelible language upon our souls.

Someone recently read my memoir of my daughter Naomi called, A Heart Traced In Sand, Reflections On A Daughter’s Struggle For Life, and he mentioned the event. The story concludes the book. It demonstrates how life is interwoven through many realms; visible and invisible.

Naomi died of cancer in 1999 at age nineteen after a heroic battle to stay in the world she loved. One year later a group of devoted friends gathered at our home to remember her life. A woman who had been Naomi’s teacher brought materials to make a cord that we all could hold. Small pouches holding sacred objects like rose petals and each person’s note to Naomi were tied to the cord. We all went outside to a lawn and garden then stood together in a circle holding the cord and our prayer bags. One by one we read our remembrance and prayer. The sky had been cloudy and now it rained lightly in a mist. This was unusual because we had been in a drought. A dazzling rainbow appeared beside us. When the last person had read, we all stood together in unity. Suddenly two doves appeared directly above our circle, hovered for a second then dove spiraling downward so closely that their wings almost touched. Down they flew with rapidly beating wings and in perfect precision flew upward again, only to spiral down in place and rise again. The beating wings and precision of their spirals was joyous. It was apparent they came to bring a message of love to us. Then they flew away. One young person burst out, exclaiming, “I hope she keeps sending us messages like that, letting us know everything is okay!”

Oldest Continuing Festival

 

I love community celebrations where friends and family come together for festivity and conviviality. Among celebrations in the United States, the Fiesta de Santa Fe is the oldest continuing festival. It began in September of 1712; 54 years before the American declaration of independence.

The most recent fiesta occurred on the city square last weekend. The Boone Gallery is only steps off the plaza so it was easy to hear plenty of music, see dancing, enjoy food, and arts & crafts. Parades and processions rounded out the activities.

In the final hours a mass was held at St. Francis Cathedral downtown. The original charter from 1712 states that fiesta is to end with a prayerful mass. I went with Amy just as bells were ringing and enjoyed the hour-long service with singing and sermon in the stone cathedral. From there, churchgoers walked with lit candles in the cool evening air through darkened streets to a hilltop nearby, where a huge cross stands guard over the city. Bonfires lit the way. The final parade was accompanied by singing and ended with prayer over the city.

Here are more photos, and videos of dancing:

 

Inshallah

“Inshallah.” This is what Amira said the last time I spoke with her and asked if she wanted to go to college. Her father, my friend Hagag, had handed her the telephone. I sensed that she deeply would like to go on with higher education, but is also aware of her family’s needs. They share a difficult life in Luxor, Egypt with deep bonds of love.

Inshallah means “God willing” or “if God wills it.” It is an Arabic language expression. When I am in Egypt I hear it used frequently, and also, alhamd lilah which means “thanks be to God.”

I have raised money for Amira to go to college. Perhaps it was simple minded of me to offer to help in this way without consulting in depth with Hagag. The family has so many pressing needs. The oldest son had to go into the army after graduation since no money existed for college. He is out now, after serving two years. There are four other children. Amira, the oldest daughter, is about to take college qualifying exams.

Iyah, the youngest daughter, Edleah and Amira

Hagag has a spinal disk problem and needs surgery. He is almost disabled and has trouble doing work on his tiny plot of land along the Nile River. Edleah, the mother, has eye problems. Add to this that the refrigerator is broken and they have no money to fix it or buy a new one. The entire family lives on about two dollars a day—yet if you were to arrive at their home they would welcome you to sit and serve you tea with the utmost kindness.

The last several times I have spoken with Hagag about money and college for Amira, he has sounded unhappy. “Edleah needs eye surgery. The doctor said it is very important.”

I have a new friend, Hazem, who is Egyptian and speaks fluent English. He has a daughter attending college in the USA. We have not met personally, but were introduced through someone I know in Santa Fe. I needed someone who speaks Arabic to talk more in depth with Hagag. Hazem has now personally met Hagag and the family. He reports that Hagag insists that the most pressing emergency is saving the mother’s eyesight.

Edleah and the youngest child, Bilal   (December 2017)

Look how much clearer Bilal's eyes are . . .

I have prayed about what to do. The surgery is a little more expensive than the year of college. But I also learned that college is not as expensive as thought. Public institutions are quite cheap. It is the room and board that adds up—but that can be alleviated by sharing.

At this point, it is me saying inshallah . . .

Deep To My Soul

I am glad I had my paints, camera and pen along with me. Oh, and my laptop. Two pair of shoes was enough. So was two pair of pants, four shirts, socks and underwear. I used the umbrella in Venice a few times. Never wore the shorts and decided to leave them in Egypt.

Everything fit in a medium size suitcase and carry-on with wheels. I never needed anything more and came home without a pair of shoes I gave away, and also left shorts, and shirts behind. The special item I brought back is the Jellabiya, (man’s gown) that was made for me in Egypt.

Oh, the four paintings I sent from Italy and two from Egypt arrived safely by courier. No equipment damaged, over 1,800 photos safely stored, and some foreign money in my pocket for souvenir.
The damage that occurred was in my body when I took a flu medication in Luxor and it wreaked havoc on my urinary system which is already slowing down because it is over six decades old. I had to come home sooner than expected. That was the biggest of the problems that arrived. All part of THE DREAM.

Friendships and bonds deepened. With my brother Wade and his family in Washington DC, with Cristiana in Venice, Italy, Fred the hotelier in Paris, and my Egyptian brothers, Hagag and Abu’l Ezz in Luxor, Egypt along with their families.

 

Perhaps I left a footprint behind in the places I sojourned. A memory that I was there.  My friends remember me, and cried when I left them. They went deep to my soul as well.

Brotherly Love

Abu'l Ezz, myself and Hagag

The homes of my Egyptian brothers are made of humble materials: mostly earth and some wood. Even the floors are dirt, so when one of the family sweep, they are sweeping clean the bare earth. Doors and windows almost always are open. Animals come in and out—pigeons that peck crumbs and are cared for, and cats. Cows, rabbits, ducks, turkeys and chickens—all part of the household. Flies too. One was on Abu’l Ezz’s nose when I took a family portrait. I noticed a dark spot on his face. He was stoically bearing a fly on the bridge of his nose between his eyes while keeping still for the picture. It was easy to remove in photoshop.

I enjoy being, “part of the family.” At times I have thought while sitting with my friends, that I have never been more comfortable. Nothing is elegant or fancy. No cars, and the barest of furnishngs. Children come and go, pigeons flutter around and walk at my feet, I hear the cow and eat delicious cheese from it's milk. I am always offered tea. My refrigerator stays well stocked because I am asked to eat with the families so often and they send food home with me.

Abu'l Ezz and Family

One evening I arrived at Ezz’s place for dinner and he insisted I take off my shoes to rest myself on the divan and stretch out. Then he noticed how dusty they had become so he called his youngest daughter Amira to come and clean them. She did so with good nature.

When I go shopping with Hagag he never accepts commission for food or cloth. That would raise the price. I pay Egyptian prices and have saved a lot letting him go ahead of me. How could I make money off of you, he asks, you are my brother! 

Hagag and his Family

When I go somewhere, one of my brothers is with me as guardian and helpmate. Hagag even walks me home, to be sure there are no hassles. When I am with Ezz, he sends his son to fetch the Mercedes to give me a ride home. It is an inside joke . . . but I am just fine with laying back in the cool night air and letting the boy drive the donkey ahead.

With the coming of winter, air goes from hot to cool more rapidly and many people are sick with a cold or cough. It happened to me. Hagag insisted I go to a doctor. So I went. Both Ezz and Hagag went with me at night and stayed by my side.

They are taking me on a boating for Christmas. It is not their holiday. Both are Muslim, but care so much for me that they want me to celebrate the big American holiday. The true gift they bring me is brotherly love.

A Three-In-One Day

There are days that I call three-in-one days. They usually occur while I am traveling. Events are so fantastic and magical that they embed in my psyche indelibly and deeply, filling my being in such a satisfying way that I swear I have lived three days in the span of one. Yesterday was like that.

It began before dawn when I am typically asleep. I woke, made breakfast and coffee, then walked in the dark along the dirt road on the west bank of the Nile River in Luxor. In a few minutes I arrived at my Egyptian brother Hegag’s home. It was quiet and a light shone from within. The doors are never closed so I stepped to the passage. Edleah, Hegag’s wife came forward from the back and motioned me to sit inside. Hegag soon appeared and we sat drinking hibiscus tea. Edleah’s brother, Adil, came with a car. We set out driving in twilight.

I was in the back seat, noticing the earthen homes, sugar cane fields, and morning haze—vapors from the canals by the fields. We reached a rundown paved road and took off as the sun rose behind us. It came up glowing orange behind distant blue mountains.

People appeared along the way, beginning their daily tasks . . . turbaned men in Jellabiya, the loose gown that flows down to the feet, and women in hijab’s and scarves covering their head.

We were going to Isna, where a big Saturday souk for trading animals occurs. The ride would have taken less than an hour, but speed humps to slow down traffic caused Adil to brake often. It took about an hour and half. At Isna we had to ask directions. Hegag said the location changes week to week. We knew we arrived when we could go no further because of the crowd.

 

Hegag and I set out walking with Adil staying behind. Within a minute we were in a crush of men and animals. I had my camera in hand and was so dazzled by the scene I began snapping photos left and right. Hegag kept close watch over me, keeping me from being trampled by buffalo, camel or cow, and making sure I was free, but tethered to him.

Big masculine energy abounded with carousing, exclamations, excitement, joking, shouting, and fraternity. I knew I was the only “different” one, and thought a couple times this was no place for wimps. But SPIRIT was holding sway and I pointed my camera and shot. Sometimes, a man or boy wanted his picture taken next to a friend or holding a beast. Occasionally I would hear “hello”, or “welcome”. I gave a lot of thumbs up and pressed flesh with the guys.

We took a break for tea and falafel lunch with pita bread, then we dove in one more time. I wondered about the complete absence of women. Hegag said it was not their job to buy and sell animals. “If a woman’s husband dies, and she needs to sell an animal, she gets a neighbor, or relative to help.”
He showed me where animals were being butchered and I walked in bloody mud while the butcher posed with his long blades in front of hanging carcasses.

As we began the drive back, I told Hegag, OK, the long drive was worth it.

I joked with Adil about all the humps home.

Late afternoon my other Egyptian brother, Abu’l Ezz met me by the Nile and off we went in his motorboat to cruise at sunset. “This is your boat! Any time!” he said, grinning. “Are you happy?’ I said yes, and he replied, “Then I am very very, very, happy!” Indeed I felt happy—languidly floating on my favorite river in the world, chasing after felluca, the traditional Nile River sailboats. Ezz would align us for just the right pictures. I especially enjoyed seeing the felluca with the sun going down behind them.

When the sun set and Ezz took me back to the river bank outside my flat, he asked me to come to dinner the next day, after another boating at sunset. I look forward to being in his earth home with his children and served a tasty Egyptian supper prepared by Saida, the best cook in Luxor.

When I reached my flat, I made dinner. Walking back to Hegag’s home for tea I thought . . . OK this has been one of those three days in one.

Foreigner Gives Way To Friend

I had wanted to be entertained with some laughter before bed, so planned to watch the opening dialogue of The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon. The TV opened on the Public Broadcasting Channel, where I sometimes go to watch the news. The documentary Vietnam, by Ken Burns was playing on PBS. Immediately the film mesmerized me. Although thinking, "no jokes here, not funny," I could not turn away.
There are ten segments to the 18 hour broadcast.

On Dec. 1, 1969, my senior year in high school in Washington DC, the United States held its first military draft lottery of the war. It gave young men a random number corresponding to birthdays—366 per year. Those with lower numbers were called first and told to report to induction centers where they could be ordered into active duty and possibly sent to fight in Vietnam . When the draft started I was too young, but by 1971 I received a draft number 105.

In 1970, when I finished high school I wore my hair long, occasionally smoked pot and considered myself a hippie. I opposed the war in Vietnam. In 1971, my first year at University, I became a member of the Baha'i Faith. The teachings required members to obey their government, but in case of war to serve as a non-combatant, such as medic. The summer of 1972 at an enlistment center in DC, I registered as contentious objector. Thankfully, the war wound down and ended shortly after. I felt a clean conscience, knowing I would not evade duty even though the war repelled me.

The period of war gave rise to stark divisions in America. I knew almost nothing of Vietnam or its people. The slogan "Make love not war" was a common counter-culture refrain on the street. I was against the military/industrial complex.

In 2008 I traveled to Vietnam and spent almost a month, going overland from Saigon (now called Ho Chi Minh City) in the south to the northern capital of Hanoi. I made some close friends and felt warmth among the people, despite being American. ( See my blog post : Beauty and Adventure ).

The next year I went back. ( Mister, What Are You Looking For? )

The documentary brings up many emotions for me. Having been to Vietnam and come to love its people, I can't imagine warring with them.






Mankind is one family. Foreigner gives way to friend when we seek to understand and put aside differences in favor of the stronger bonds of unity.

An Empath

My two cousins in Dallas, Texas cut people open and chop out bones. They are orthopedic surgeons.

I could learn to be a doctor and perhaps do surgery, but I would have to overcome my sympathetic nervous system. I am a sensitive type—an artist, and also an empath. “The trademark of an empath is feeling and absorbing other people’s emotions and/or physical symptoms because of their high sensitivities. These people filter the world through their intuition and have a difficult time intellectualizing their feelings.” (From Psychology Today, Ten Traits of Empathetic People) I would “feel” some pain when cutting someone open, let alone cutting out their hip joint and tossing it in the trash. No matter that person is under anesthesia and asleep.

I could never be a bully because I sympathize with the other. I feel human anger, jealousy, fear and it hurts. I often will bend over backward for someone else at my own expense and have been taken advantage of by self-centered and unfeeling people. During times of peace and joy with another, I can feel elated. I replenish easily in nature, in wild fields, under open skies, among birds and beasts, by water.

I quickly tire of being in a crowd because I absorb too much. When I was young, if in a crowd or at a long meeting, I would often feel an urgency to use the bathroom—an escape mechanism. During eighth grade, the class elected me their president and I declined. 

Now, as I pass mid-life, I find I can travel alone for months, even a year or longer.

Too much togetherness can be difficult for me—I have been married three times. Perhaps I fear being engulfed and losing my identity and do not give myself easily to being a unit. Maybe I am not “domestic.”
Once when my mother visited me from her home far away, we were standing together in my yard and a terrible migraine came upon me, although I never get headaches. Mom always was tough—I felt I absorbed tension from a deep layer of being.
When my oldest daughter was seventeen, there came a time when I was waking at night with a feeling of dread, as if something was wrong but I could not discern what. Soon after, we discovered she had advanced cancer and would probably not survive. The cancer started in her hip bone, and for two years until the day she died I felt pain in my hip.

Usually I am healthy and without pains, but occasionally something will flare up for a short while. Yesterday I felt uneasy around lunch time—a bit nauseous and unsteady. I wondered at the unusual indisposition, but the discomfort passed as I focused on my artwork and gallery. Soon after, my dear friend and comrade talked with me and texted describing the sudden onset of her “stomach being on fire” and having digestion symptoms that necessitated medication. "Probably too much Thanksgiving leftover sweets," she said. "I am not used to the richness!"

Oh, and did I tell you that I often begin thinking of someone moments before they call me on the phone?

Feeling The Rapture

I have been an artist for thirty years now. It has been my work, and I have not had to take other jobs to support myself. Thousands of my paintings are in homes across the land. Even now, I think of this and almost have to pinch myself to see if I am not dreaming. 

Steven, painting a still-life

When I paint and show the work, I am sharing what I love, and the product. Lately, I have been giving lessons in painting. While teaching, I am sharing what I love and my knowledge of the practice.

Whether painting or teaching, I say a prayer beforehand for the highest outcome. 

Today I taught. We gathered at the beautiful estate of one of the students and finished work from a previous session, making a still-life painting of a vase with sunflowers on a table with fruit. We worked outside on a covered patio. During earlier classes we made landscape paintings using only a palette knife to apply the oil colors to a panel. This time, I wanted to teach something different. We first drew a sketch and made an underpainting of our subject, then this week we finished by applying color—all with brushes.

All of us, being creative.

Only one student has had instruction before my class. All of us are over sixty years old and so I am heartened that my students are willing to learn and try something new and difficult. Everyone made beautiful work and felt a thrill in doing so. Each person's painting revealed their uniqueness and special way of seeing and experiencing the world.

Working in sync.

After class, someone shared a quote that he had recently read: “People say that what we're all seeking is a meaning for life. I don't think that's what we're really seeking. I think what we're seeking is an experience of being alive, so that our life experiences on the purely physical plane will have resonances within our own innermost being and reality, so that we actually feel the rapture of being alive.” - Joseph Campbell (American, March 26, 1904 – October 30, 1987)

Part of feeling the rapture is being in the activity of pure creation while in the world of nature.