There is a mystical moment for me in every painting, when I see my efforts begin to coalesce like a new universe out of the nothingness of color and strokes. Sometimes, it is difficult for me to hang in there until that moment, but I always know it is coming, can feel it welling up. Epiphany happens. It is exciting. It keeps me working. Simple images, these creatures, and they have a certain majesty. They know who they are, and what to do. That in itself makes them superior to me. My authentic self is still in the process of discovery. And, every day, I cast about for the next right thing to do or say. Some things are a given. I will watch my soap opera every weekday, except when some blasted tennis match or Olympic games preempt it. I will eat three meals, take a bath every other day (the old earthsuit cannot tolerate every day anymore, and gee, I don't sweat very often, anyway), feed the dogs, check my email. All important tasks. Beyond that, everything else is a surprise. And that is what retirement is, a perpetual surprise. No one is expecting me to show up anywhere on a regular basis. Of course, there was school, when I was a geriatric student. But, in all honesty, the teachers never expected any of us to show up. They dropped out like flys. I guess I am the only one that hopes I will show up every day. Well, that works for me.
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