"The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious.
It is the source of all true art and all science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed."
Adventure is out there! Even if it's just a tiny one.
I need to figure out where I'm going for the rest of my life. I have no plan, no real goals, I've just been kind of wandering for a bit. I can't totally go far away and do exactly what I would want at this point because of my parents' aging and struggling with illness and my grandchildren are growing and we need to build relationship.
On the other hand … I just want to go to Europe.
|Sudden snow squall forces me to stop driving|
Brunswick, Maine. Bowdoin College. As I drive northeast along the coast it starts out sunny … then suddenly a huge squall came in. Snow, sleet, heavy wind. I arrive in Brunswick and it is ridiculous. So heavy one can barely see the other cars. I pull over to the side of the street, check Weather Channel on my SmartPhone, and it reveals that the storm is moving along exactly in my pre-planned route. I try to make a logical decision: I might as well turn around and head back south. By the time I looked up again the sky was clearing to a bright cobalt blue. Still, no sense trying to catch up to and follow that intense squall.
At Bowdoin, I drive around the campus three times before I finally find a parking place. I had become frustrated and was about to give up but thought: “just once more and if I don't find a place I will leave.” I nearly immediately find a parking spot directly in front of the art museum. (Why do I forget to send out requests to the Universe?) I lock the car. I'm heading in ...
|Käthe Kollwitz aquatint|
I am reading "Madam X" by Deborah Davis. It is a study of John Singer Sargent and his rise to artistic fame especially through his relationship and amazing portrait of Amélie Guatreau. It is a richly woven book with details of the artist’s growth and life and the reputation-destroying scandal caused by the avant garde painting. It causes me to remember, yet again, that I do yearn to be an ex-pat, or to simply to live elsewhere ... somewhere ... anywhere else … that is unique for me (but most earnestly in France or Europe).
My petite adventure of the day, to Brunswick and back, well … it is not truly much of an adventure. Just riding and giving myself a chance to think, without focusing, to allow a stream of consciousness to take over. It does help me so much. Later in the afternoon, after more driving, I pull over to read a bit more of the book about John Singer Sargent and Madame X.
I am at Pine
Point, watching the Atlantic waves wash the beach. The tiny white dots of seagulls are scattered on the
sand. The sky is a pale blue with a dissolving three-quarter moon looking
wistfully down upon the water. The ocean is a deep terra-vert tone edged in a
ruffle of pale lace as it hits the shore. The tide is out and the exposed earth
is a light raw umber with the most fascinating pattern of sky-reflecting
rivulets tracing patterns from the higher sand to where they greet the sea
below. The sun is beginning to set behind me. It casts a pale light on the dry
and faded amber-toned sea grass. Weathered fence posts and linking sea ropes
border the beach and the path that leads from the parking lot toward it. I have
opted not to go down and run on the shore – although it is a momentary
aspiration -- the March wind has picked up force and the temperature has
The insipid existence of my recent days had left me empty and depressed. I have not truly gained a new process today in trying to make a decision about what to do with my life, nor how to follow any plans I try to make, nor even to start to make them; but I know deep down inside me that something has been decided. It is not easy to take the first steps to move on any such a resolution, but my time does NOT stretch interminably in front of me, my upcoming active years dwindle, so I know it must basically be NOW for action to be taken.