Back in the saddle
So-to-speak. On week two for the community havoc of After-Math-ew recovery phase. Most questions still revolve around “are you dry?” or “are you in your house?” If your answer is “no”… then your life has a realm of complication and intervention that warrants a long pause ready for a bit of genuine listening. There’s no room for that brief shrug-you-off kind of listening, rather it’s the how-can-I-really-help-you sort of listening. The necessary attentive pause, the kind of listening that frays your nerves after a few days. Then the creeping-in of a craving for normalcy. That back-to-basics- my-life-your-life thing that lets us all just plug along with casual indifference. The pearly oyster that’s your neighborhood–that place which usually recharges you, gives you inspiration, fuels your stories about life, wets your color palette at the easel, gets your blank canvas busy– is wounded, the whole thing fractured on the fringe. The subsequent floating anxiety, the new onset of itchy hives after the city official knocks at your door to do a damage assessment for FEMA and primary residences. You’ve had a few days to think about it. A few days to count your blessings, sit in your dry living room with your floors that aren’t peeling and mourn the loss of others and pray for the less fortunate. Because the less fortunate are just a few streets east of you. Stay tuned. I’m painting stuff when I can make the time. I post images at Twitter and Instagram. These are notes from the easel. Stop in HotShot Bakery n’ Cafe for Cupcake Happy Hour. You’ll need it.