Fri, February 11, 2011 10:27:01 AM Re: Seizing the day From: Tova Gabrielle <[email protected]>
Dear Robert,
Today's letter really hit the spot. Yesterday my housemate was reading a book about a gay couple that made an agreement to stay in touch after the first of them died. One of them committed suicide. At some point the survivor saw a golden light in front and above him that told him this: life is worth the struggle whether or not it is an easy or a difficult life, it's all worth it.
I have never been able to figure out how to be in the working world. It makes me crazy, like high school. Something is wrong not just with that social complication out there but with my ability to be part of it. Nonetheless, I was driving to work today (still trying) and I felt the big blue bliss that is ever the backdrop to all this effort. It was cerelean blue and it was always there.
Life is like a canvas. Nine out of ten are warm ups.
Thank you for your help with these fertile insights.
Tova
From: Robert Genn Twice-Weekly Letter <[email protected]>
To: [email protected]
Sent: Tue, January 25, 2011 12:02:46 AM
Subject: Seizing the day
Seizing the day
January 25, 2011
Dear tova,
Out over the dark sea, near the horizon, whales move steadily northward. People silently gather on the rough black lava and red dirt at Makahuena Point. Cameras ready, braced against the wind and crashing surf, they await the sunrise. These are not sun worshippers or members of some peculiar cult. They are neighbors, tourists, morning joggers, loners, and honeymoon couples up before dawn to witness an event.
It's not just that we are given our day--it's what we do with it. Have you ever noticed that some folks keep busy from dawn 'til dusk plugging away at things that need doing? In many ways this is the artist's mode--a permanent state of repairing. Others among us are dawdling dreamers who rather bump into things as they go. Most of us, creative or not, are somewhere in between. "Keep busy," I like to tell artists, "while you're waiting for something to happen."
I figure there've been 10,950 sunrises since we first started coming to this part of Hawaii. And just as the sun climbs inexorably in the sky, happiness and fortune rise and fall with what's to be done with a single day. To make good things happen, a bit of self-organization may be necessary. To-do lists, card files, day-timers, delivery calendars, alarm watches, radio regularity, interspersed exercise, even inspirational fridge magnets. As always, having the materials ready to go is Job One. If you're thinking about going out and buying a certain brush, you can be delayed in your progress for weeks, months or years.
As the sliver of light blossoms into its full orange mango, I wonder how I might squeeze every drop from its potential. The now sunlit shore-people are in mild celebration. Like nailing the trade winds to coconut palms, some are trying to catch the meaning with their point-and-shoots.
A long-haired, surfboarder-type guy is journaling in a dog-eared Moleskine. "Are you going to paint again today?" he asks. I tell him I am. "Some dudes just do it, natural like," he says. Walking back toward my second cup of coffee I'm wondering about that. "Seize the day," I tell myself. I can smell the paint.
Best regards,
Robert
PS: "No one expects the days to be gods." (Ralph Waldo Emerson)
Esoterica: Our friend's home on Kauai is where I wrote my first book, "In Praise of Painting." It's now out of print and a bit of a collector's item. Back in 1979 I sort of knew what I wanted to say but I had to motivate myself. Short on self-esteem and unsure I could get started or even complete, I put my ideas on file cards and tacked them to insulation boards. Like one of those mind webs the experts recommend, I spent days just moving things around. Then the cards began to make sense and take over. The sun began to shine on my project. The writing began to flow.
Dear Robert,
Today's letter really hit the spot. Yesterday my housemate was reading a book about a gay couple that made an agreement to stay in touch after the first of them died. One of them committed suicide. At some point the survivor saw a golden light in front and above him that told him this: life is worth the struggle whether or not it is an easy or a difficult life, it's all worth it.
I have never been able to figure out how to be in the working world. It makes me crazy, like high school. Something is wrong not just with that social complication out there but with my ability to be part of it. Nonetheless, I was driving to work today (still trying) and I felt the big blue bliss that is ever the backdrop to all this effort. It was cerelean blue and it was always there.
Life is like a canvas. Nine out of ten are warm ups.
Thank you for your help with these fertile insights.
Tova
From: Robert Genn Twice-Weekly Letter <[email protected]>
To: [email protected]
Sent: Tue, January 25, 2011 12:02:46 AM
Subject: Seizing the day
Seizing the day
January 25, 2011
Dear tova,
Out over the dark sea, near the horizon, whales move steadily northward. People silently gather on the rough black lava and red dirt at Makahuena Point. Cameras ready, braced against the wind and crashing surf, they await the sunrise. These are not sun worshippers or members of some peculiar cult. They are neighbors, tourists, morning joggers, loners, and honeymoon couples up before dawn to witness an event.
It's not just that we are given our day--it's what we do with it. Have you ever noticed that some folks keep busy from dawn 'til dusk plugging away at things that need doing? In many ways this is the artist's mode--a permanent state of repairing. Others among us are dawdling dreamers who rather bump into things as they go. Most of us, creative or not, are somewhere in between. "Keep busy," I like to tell artists, "while you're waiting for something to happen."
I figure there've been 10,950 sunrises since we first started coming to this part of Hawaii. And just as the sun climbs inexorably in the sky, happiness and fortune rise and fall with what's to be done with a single day. To make good things happen, a bit of self-organization may be necessary. To-do lists, card files, day-timers, delivery calendars, alarm watches, radio regularity, interspersed exercise, even inspirational fridge magnets. As always, having the materials ready to go is Job One. If you're thinking about going out and buying a certain brush, you can be delayed in your progress for weeks, months or years.
As the sliver of light blossoms into its full orange mango, I wonder how I might squeeze every drop from its potential. The now sunlit shore-people are in mild celebration. Like nailing the trade winds to coconut palms, some are trying to catch the meaning with their point-and-shoots.
A long-haired, surfboarder-type guy is journaling in a dog-eared Moleskine. "Are you going to paint again today?" he asks. I tell him I am. "Some dudes just do it, natural like," he says. Walking back toward my second cup of coffee I'm wondering about that. "Seize the day," I tell myself. I can smell the paint.
Best regards,
Robert
PS: "No one expects the days to be gods." (Ralph Waldo Emerson)
Esoterica: Our friend's home on Kauai is where I wrote my first book, "In Praise of Painting." It's now out of print and a bit of a collector's item. Back in 1979 I sort of knew what I wanted to say but I had to motivate myself. Short on self-esteem and unsure I could get started or even complete, I put my ideas on file cards and tacked them to insulation boards. Like one of those mind webs the experts recommend, I spent days just moving things around. Then the cards began to make sense and take over. The sun began to shine on my project. The writing began to flow.
