In Austin visiting my family for winter break and my oldest full sister just showed up from LA last night. She must have Tex-Mex so we (family & friends) go to Chuys to eat. My sister and I order margaritas on the rocks, no salt. Before I’m done drinking mine she has already ordered her second one, this time it’s frozen with salt. I finish my drink and we’re so deep in conversation that I forget to stop the waiter and ask for another one, so I just reach over the table and take my sister’s half full margarita. She orders another one. While I’m drinking the stolen rita, I realize how at home I feel. How many times have I stolen food, drinks and cute clothes from my sisters? I can’t even remember…
Back home from the restaurant, I can’t stop thinking about this lifestyle that I want to write about. How do you put it in words? How do I accurately describe the adventures I’ve been on while trekking down my “long road to freedom”? –I love that line! It’s the title of Nelson Mandela’s autobiography, one of my favorite books ever!
I think about the art I’ve painted and the story behind it all, aware that the art standing by itself isn’t the whole picture. It must be accompanied by the moments in between paintings as well. They are what art is built on, those hidden secrets of the soul that are so challenging to express! So I’m dreaming of this challenge like a hungry dog dreams of steak.
I ask myself, how will I accomplish this great goal? My wiser self answers, “Stay in the present moment”. I understand.