The Struggle is Real

     I'm struggling to paint and draw this weekend. I tried to work on my acrylic piece yesterday and hated what I'd accomplished, so set it aside. Tried to sketch a little in my daily journal today and just couldn't produce more than a doodle of the three snail mail letters I have sitting here waiting to be answered. I just don't have it in me this weekend. 

    Yes, I am finally divorced after a year and a half of waiting. The weight of the past twenty years, rather than at last washing away instead somehow feels like it's crushing me. Then Thich Nhat Hahn passed away early Saturday morning and I feel like I just can't get air into my lungs. So I've decided I'm going to take some time to just be and cry. A little. Or a lot.

    I've watched a couple of the ceremonial videos from Plum Village in Vietnam as they prepare to lay Thay's body to rest. The Full Moon Temple packed with monastics chanting, paying their respects, beautiful deep pink orchids framing Thay's photo on the altar, flanked with tall slender sticks of sandalwood incense. The ceremonies will continue over the coming week and if you want to catch any of the footage, the schedule is posted on the Plum Village website.

    So, I think I've missed drawing more than anything else these past years and discovered the book "Draw Your Day" by Samantha Dion Baker one recent morning while browsing in Barnes and Noble. The colorful illustrations making beautiful art out of simple every day life drew me in. And I'm sure once I get out from under this cloud of woe I'll feel a little more artistically inclined. Just not today. Today I'll be content to watch Schitt's Creek buried under my blankets, listening to Tucker snore from the foot of the bed.

Tomorrow is another whole day to dream and play.


Dear Thay, 

May you be reborn into the Pure Land.
Namaste.

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