It's funny how things happen in life. The day that I created that treatment plan was a good day for me, in many regards. For starters, I was able to drive myself to my appointment. Not only does it take a good day for that to happen, it takes a number of consecutive good days for me to feel confident enough to venture behind the wheel of a car. This day I had the confidence and so I set out alone. The appointment went well. I knew we would be working on the plan so I had put some thought into it ahead of time. The effort paid off and I felt really good about where I was headed.
On my drive home I realized that I would be passing by my favorite art supply store. I can't remember the last time I went to this store alone. It's been a long time. Plus, moving off the beaten path meant possibly getting confused and losing my way. The exit approached and I took it. I just took it. I had no idea why, I had no plan for any projects and definitely nothing in the works, but it just felt right. I walked up to the door and read, "ALL CANVASES 50% OFF"! I walked in, randomly selected seven canvases, paid for them, and walked back out to my car. As I drove home on that sunny day I had the most wonderful feeling of anticipation, of potential, of possibility.
Oh, I would be remiss if I didn't end up in my head at some point in this note to you. I promise not to stay there long. But as I sat looking at the above photo, trying to think of how to caption it, I just kept hearing the words "blank slate". Drawing from the education recesses of my mind, I tried to remember the theory behind the words. "Blank slate" or "Tabula rasa" is one of those phrases you never forget. Now, almost thirty years later, I wonder a little deeper. Tabula rasa is the epistemological theory (theory about how we attain knowledge) that maintains that people are born without any mental "content" and that their knowledge comes from the perception of their experience. So, in essence, at birth our minds are a blank slate and our sensory experiences become our rules for processing data, or our knowledge. Hum....
I think that bulbs and canvases and I have a little bit in common. That's what I believe this part of the journey is about. Allowing myself permission to be that blank slate in order to experience that which I so long to know - the emptiness of letting go. The release of not holding on. The experience of peace on a sensory level that can only be known by having been there before, physically. And this can only happen by repeatedly putting myself in a place where this is possible. Not somewhere up in my head. Not in a book. Not in words on a computer screen, but in experience.
I can't help but wonder what will end up on those canvases. Just like I wondered about those two small bulbs in that small brown paper bag. Just like I wonder about me. I think that Camus was right, as I find him in most cases to be.
"In the depth of winter I finally learned that there lay within me an invincible summer."
Oh, and Anna is doing fantastic! A few bumps in the road, a little more pain than any of us had anticipated, but she is recovering well and back at working her two jobs. She continues to wow us all.
Oliver healed up just like new! After clearing him with the vet, we decided that it might be best if we find a home where Oliver could get a little more one on one. So we found a simply fantastic no-kill shelter called Caring for Cats and Oliver has officially been named Olivia and is awaiting adoption. We are very excited to think of the wonderful life this beautiful kitty will have.
Life truly does amaze me.