People walk in and out of our lives,
each of them carrying with them
a message. We learn about them,
but more about ourselves, in the
way we accept that message;
words that may not even be
relevant at that time.
Then, years or days later, the
thoughts come back to us as
insight and inspiration.
Take a little more time with people
as you meet them and learn a little
bit more. Everybody can teach you
something. I know I’m still learning.
                                                                           j.g.l.

Mondays are just young Fridays

I’ve been thinking about painting, a lot.
  I used to paint. I used to paint a lot. At
one time I might have even considered
a career in commercial art, then a camera
had its way with me and I chose to follow
another path.
  Still I painted. I painted once in a while
or occasionally, but not enough to really
see if I could paint as well as I thought,
or as well as I wanted.
  I even told myself that painting was what
I would do when life slowed down a bit,
or when I retired from doing whatever it
is I was doing.
  I would paint when I had more time.
  In the past I painted with watercolours
and acrylics mainly. I dabbled in oils, but
oil painting is for serious artists. Now, I
know the technique (classes helped) and
understand the time it takes to work with
oils, but not having the time I never
ventured further.
  I’ve even described myself as a latent oil
painter. Lately, I’ve had difficulty allowing
the thoughts to remain latent.
  A character I have been working with is
a painter, a fine artist, an oil painter at
that (I said earlier that oils were for the
serious). I’ve been seriously editing (even
rewriting) the manuscript, and in doing so
find myself again fascinated by how she
paints, how she sees, and even how she
approaches her art. I remember writing
the original scenes and was then, as I am
now, inspired.
  I even thought, at one point of the
process, of working on a painting as I
was writing, to further get the feel of the
paint and the rhythm of the brushstroke.
  I stopped myself, knowing, or feeling, I
did not have the time. I knew it would
take away what I was really working on.
  But still, especially now, I want to paint.
  I probably should paint. I think I need
to feel something else, I have ideas and
thoughts I need to let out. I even have
some sketches.
  But do I have the time?
  I have more editing to do, I have more
writing to do, I have commitments, and
deadlines, and I’m not sure I have the
time or space to indulge this feeling or
this fantasy.
  Or maybe that is just an excuse?
  Don’t we all have things we want to do,
but never make an earnest effort to find
the time? Instead we find excuses.
  What’s your excuse for not doing what
you want, or think, you should be doing?
                                                                 j.g.l.