The earth existed for a long time before humans arrived, and it will continue long after we are gone. Earth doesn’t need us. It doesn’t need us to observe it, to interpret it, and it certainly doesn’t need us to modify it.  I think the planet will sigh in relief when we are gone. Having said that, we didn’t come into to universe. We came out of it, like a wave rises out of the ocean.  We are part of it.  We are one stitch, one loop of thread in the fabric of the cosmos.

It kind of takes the pressure off to realize that we’re not necessary. We will leave our scars on the planet, but the jungles will grow up to obliterate our developments.  Maybe the ice caps will form again. Maybe this will become an ocean planet whose former continents are submerged. Maybe something huge will collide with this place,  vaporizing it and starting over again.  We tend to think of that as destruction, but it’s actually more like creation!  It’s not sad if there’s no one to feel the sadness. It’s just the way things unfold in a dynamic universe.

We can’t destroy it. We can only destroy ourselves. 

When I moved into this house 16 days ago, I was a mess.  I’d had stress and anxiety for a solid year.  My left knee had given out, making walking, and particularly going up and down stairs difficult and painful. My back was sore. I was overthinking everything. 

Moving is one of the most difficult things to do, especially in winter, during a snowstorm and freezing cold. 

My fingers and heels were dry and cracked.

While packing up the house, I had a crew waterproofing the basement. 

I bought a house with no basement. That was a definite selling point for me. It has a sauna, which I have used 14 of the last 16 evenings. I’ve been moisturizing my skin, drinking lots of water and trying to eat better. My hands and feet, my back and knee are better. 

I have a few more boxes to unpack, but I’ve taken this month to move in before starting my new job. 

I miss my friends in my former town, but I’m really enjoying being here!  

I can find my way around, and lots of things are within walking distance. 

There are still unknowns, but that’s what makes this an adventure!

Over the past year, I feel like I’ve been falling apart.  A year ago, my basement started flooding.  I paid $25,000 to waterproof it, and I didn’t even get to see the end result.  I went through the stress of selling my house and moving out while the basement work was being done.  I heard somewhere that when a caterpillar is in the cocoon, at some point it turns to liquid.  Talk about falling apart.  Tonight marks two weeks in my new house.  I’m rebuilding, but that swirling liquid I’ve become brings experiences from my past to the surface.  I was sick for a couple of days here, and the one day I spent in bed, dozing on and off throughout an entire day, my mom visited me in dreams, and I had a long conversation with her.  In my waking moments, I had to figure out where I was, and remember that my mom was no longer living.  Everything is oozing around me, and I feel like I’ve been on vacation.  The fact is that everything has changed.  I won’t return to my home of 30 years.  This is my home now, and I’m healing.  I’m recouperating.  One of those layers of liquid is when I used to move around…. In my 20’s…  I used to leave a place and go someplace else, never putting down roots.  I had deep roots by the time I left my old house.  I said many times that I wouldn’t leave there until they carried my dead body out.  I didn’t realize that there were still adventures awaiting me.  Life holds surprises.  My plans and expectations slip through my fingers, and after anguishing over many decisions, I find myself here in a new town, a new house, facing new adventures.  I find myself blinking in the sunlight, and I might not even realize I’m drying my big beautiful new wings in the sun.

Some of you may have noticed that I moved from Grand Marais to Virginia, MN.

I bought a cute little house with commercial zoning with the thought of opening a gallery some day.

The past year has been difficult for me, and the time was right for me to make a change.

I feel like I am on vacation, but this is home now. 

My cats and I are settling in. Every day I unpack more boxes, and run more errands.

I will always love Grand Marais. I was in my former house for 30 years, and I thought I would be there for the rest of my life. In some ways, this move seems like it happened all of a sudden, but I know it’s been coming for a while.

My brother found this drawing at my dad’s house. I must have done it when I was about 10 years old.

2 @ 24”x48”

I stretched and primed this canvas yesterday morning and painted most of it yesterday. Before I went to bed last night I painted some more, and then got it to this stage this morning. 

I just wanted to paint. I’ve been in a somewhat dry spell over these past seven months, too concerned about a problem that seems to be resolving now.  I hope it is resolving, anyway. 

I’d almost forgotten the joy I get from painting. Painting is very different than thinking about painting. Thinking makes it a chore.  The activity of painting is so present and personal. No one tells me I shouldn’t use that color, or I should wash my brush. No one tells me what I can’t do or that I’m doing it wrong. I don’t care about that anyway, except that it annoys me when people do that. 

I love to sell paintings, but I don’t think about that when I’m working on one.

It’s hard to say what I do think about, because either the thought and the action are the same, or the thought is just a soundtrack that accompanies the brushstrokes.

I wanted to share the image in progress, because art is communication. It is language. It says things I can not say with words. 

I’ve had feedback since posting the image, and this makes it a dialogue. A conversation that only adds to the joy. The process just keeps getting better.