Beauty of The Moment

It's been eleven years since I picked up pencil, pastels, brushes and got to "work" again. When I rendered a black Chevrolet Caprice, rolling down the highway, I didn't know the way my "third eye" would be opened at the moment. It was a painting done to celebrate my father's 75th birthday and to remind him to dream. It reminded me to dream "alive," to be awakened to the creativity that lives in me.

There's a funny thing that happens when you aren't responsive to such strong energy: it turns on you, twists in your gut and in your mind. Not allowing that creative energy to flow bottles up your own energy and manifests all sorts of "dis-ease…"

But the summer fo 2009, I let it free and it set me free! That summer, I woke early, spent time either drawing, painting or planning to do so. I must have produced at least 10 noteworthy pieces in a two month period. I was always riding on the wings of the clouds, floating over oceans and enjoying every minute of my days.

By nature, I am melancholy; it's easy to see the shadows and clouds, maybe even expect to see them when they aren't there. So mid ways through summer, when that "sense" came on me and told me that my flight would not be long, I responded "I know; just give me a minute to enjoy the sense of beauty." And it lasted a little while longer. In those minutes, I could see colors as I have never been able to see them, to imagine and render "
birds of a feather," see "through the eye of the beholder" and take heart in "the birth of…" just a few of the concepts and sensations that ran through me, for just a minute.

Eleven years ago, it was as if I left earth for a brief moment, to sit at the feet of God, to see beauty as only could be seen from the throne of God. Certainly, over the years, between testing software, preaching and teaching and shoveling snow and the many other tasks that can occupy my days, I enjoyed my minutes. But over time, I not only crashed back to earth, half expecting at some point, the only thing I would have to look forward, is retirement. But as the moments so many years ago come to mind, I am certain, even in this moment of writing, my wings flutter and spread, if only for a second.