Sunday, January 13, 2008


And this is one of those days; I walk around the studio and into the gallery, looking at all the work, and I just don’t know. What am I doing and why am I doing it?

There is no firm ground on which to stand. Just when I think I have found the place, it shifts beneath my feet throwing me off balance. My head tells me...this is the way it is, this is the journey, and the destination is secondary. I know this, and yet. There is always an “and yet”; the heart simply cannot keep up with the head, or is it the other way around? The heart being one or two steps ahead?

I have completed 2 new paintings, and neither has any enthusiasm that shows. Another is in progress, and I am excited about the prospects, and yet...the nagging question...why am I doing this.

Often, writing about something will lead me to an understanding, if not an answer. But I don’t know if that will be the case this morning. I hope so. I really want to find that that center, that place where everything comes together, that spiritual sweet spot.

I cannot stop thinking about David, my parents, Cathy, and all of the gentle people I knew, and all that I never knew. Some have gone before their time, others in their time, and thinking about them makes me sad. I thought I wanted to be happy today, to paint freely with loud music bouncing around the studio. But perhaps I really want to be sad; maybe this is one of those days when we feel the need to quietly wrap ourselves in a soft blanket of melancholy and remember the ones we loved and lost. This doesn’t seem like such a bad idea, maybe we have to do this periodically to keep our balance in life.

I Think I will listen to Jerry Orbach, Luciano Pavarotti, Johnny Cash, and john Denver, celebrating their lives, even as I mourn for David, my parents, and Cathy.

Sometimes you just don’t know where writing in a journal will lead you.


Jean Levert Hood said...

William, listen to your music, honor your grief....Tomorrow will lead the journey.

Linda said...

Sorry it's been a sad day for you. I've had one of those weeks, too -- just returned from a quick off-the-clock visit to work this evening where I visited an old patient who has probably breathed his last breath by now. He's the third this week -- and they were all three extra special to me for different reasons. I think it's okay to sit and cry sometimes, and be quiet, and listen to Chopin Nocturnes and eat apple pie even if you are on a diet. And somewhere during all that we find our footing again and go on with what we're supposed to be doing.

On another note, I keep trying to find an e-mail address for you to tell you about Moleskines, but haven't had any luck. You can e-mail me at
doodahlin at yahoo (of course that is supposed to be punctuation) dot com :-)

Lesley Rigby said...

William, I have only just read your blog for the first time today having read Patience's blog this morning. I feel your sorrow for David and the injustice of it all. Bush has opened a "Can of Worms" because of his hideous pride and so many families are being devastated as a result. It isn't surprising you are finding it hard to find enthusiasm for anything today - who in their right mind could? I think it is also knowing that the world is never going to recover from the mess it is in during our lifetime, if ever. The world is depressed - what has that evil man done under the guise of "Looking for weapons of mass destruction"?

dog face girls said...


I'm sending you a Big Hug.