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| Boston from across the Charles River |
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| Beacon Hill |
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| Cambridge |
1976 – I was 37 years
old and the country was celebrating its Bicentennial. Amy was 11 years old,
Beth 7, and Sara 5. My medical
practice of 5 years, which had been a source of unbridled pleasure and
satisfaction, was beginning to lose its luster, as my mental, emotional, and
spiritual wellbeing began to gradually decline. Unknown to me at the time, this was the beginning of a
journey that would take me to places I never could have imagined.
State law required all
physicians to complete a number of continuing medical educations hours (CME) in
accredited courses every two years, and I was registered in an Oncology review
course at the Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston. I arrived at the conference hall for
the 9 a.m. session, and was confronted by an all too familiar CME environment:
a large hall with tables set up in rows facing the lectern and a large screen,
and smaller tables on the sides of the hall with coffee, tea, and water. Each registrant was given a syllabus
with a daily schedule lectures and an outline of each presentation, along with
a pad of paper and one or more very sharp pencils. The lights were dimmed, the first slide projected on the
screen, and the speaker began to read…directly from the slide, the same slide
that is in the syllabus. It takes
less than 10 minutes for the sleep inducing boredom to set in; this is the last
place on earth I wanted to be on that day, and after 30 excruciating minutes I
got up and walked out, and did not return for the remainder of the 3-day
course.
I walked back to the
hotel to get my canvas shoulder bag with my faithful Parker 45 fountain pen and
sketchbooks, and set out to explore the city. And explore it is exactly what I did, walking through every
section and neighborhood of Boston over the next 2 days. On the third day, I took the train
across the Charles River and experienced Cambridge and the Harvard campus. I loved every minute of every day;
quite remarkable for someone who was not fond of traveling and sight seeing,
and dining alone. It was more than
just the visual delights of the city’s e urban landscape that captivated me; I
was experiencing an incredible sense of being centered within myself. Everything was as it should be in my
small world. I was doing what I
was intended to do.
Those three days in
Boston 36 years ago were to mark the beginning of an incredible journey, taking
me through the most intense years of my life. Four years later I would make the decision to leave my
practice and pursue a life as an artist.
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