When You Can't Walk Away

Years ago on a river rafting trip, I was standing next to a raging ice box dressed in a wet suit arguing, yes arguing, with a good friend of mine. I was an art student then and completely submerged in the world of creating art. Everything I experienced traveled an imagined canvas wonderland. People who knew me, knew this. For whatever reason I blurted out, "If I went blind I'd quit art." This sent my friend Myron into a total fit. "You can't quit art!" "If I'm blind, I'm totally quitting. Of course I am." "No, you can still paint." "How? No, I'll quit." We went back and forth. He argued with all his heart that an artist is an artist and you can't walk away from that no matter what. I argued that I wouldn't be able to see shit. Our other good friend Christine tried so hard to play a part in the argument, but she was too busy laughing her ass off. Remember, we were wearing wet suits. Everyone else on the trip was getting excited to climb into boats and we were fighting over my hypothetical blindness.

I think there are some things you can't quit no matter what. As much as I loved painting and drawing, I walked away. I'll return one day, but I don't hurt all the way through because I'm not working a new composition and daydreaming about colors. Okay, so I still do both of those things in my head, but creating stories, that I don't want to play any hypothetical games with. I make no money at this gig. I'm terrible at managing . . . every freaking thing, But I'll figure it out. I have to because I have to. That's what Myron thought painting was to me. And now I see he was right.

For December and on, I'm reading and writing (and holiday treat eating). I'm thinking of you all that are close to my heart and wishing I had more time in the day. I miss chatting and visiting blogs. And I'll be back to do those things. I wish you all a safe and happy holiday season. If you need me, I'm still here. Drop an email.