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Friday, May 9, 2014

"Voyage"


I used to get in a lot of trouble for losing shoes when I was little.  Mom insisted that I put them on, and I ditched them as soon as she was out of sight.  Sometimes I remembered where I put them.  Sometimes I didn't.  They usually showed up again eventually.  Or not. 

It's a lot like people.  Sometimes I forget someone has died.  I reach for the phone, sometimes even dialing, and then I realize that person isn't going to pick up the phone on the other end.  Sometimes I think my missing people are in the same layer of reality as my missing shoes, existing in an afterlife with bad phone reception.

I think they're still out there though.  The people for sure, and maybe the shoes too.  When people die they go on a long voyage and forget to send postcards.  Sometimes I see them in my dreams.  People go on their journey, but they're still here too.  I don't know the laws of physics in the afterlife; I just know what I know, or feel what I feel.

Sometimes I think a bit of an anonymous poem... "People come into our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime"... or sometimes I think "We're born alone, we die alone".  Depends on my general frame of mind.

It comes down to the fact that we have to make our own lives.  Nobody else can do it for us.  Sometimes we have people who help us on our personal journeys.  Sometimes we get to have those people in our lives for a little bit or a lot, but it still comes down to our life, our problems.

We want to feel we're important, that our lives mean something.  We want to feel that we're important to someone else, and maybe to a bigger reality, but it still comes down to the fact that nobody else can live our lives for us or tell us what is best for living our own destinies.  The people who matter to us are gifts that make the journey worthwhile.

I can still remember the red canvas shoes I had that were splashed with river mud.  They were missing for a week or two, and then all of a sudden, there they were on that flat slab of gray shale under the tall grasses.  I often feel like my missing people are going to show up like that too.  I just don't know which rock I left them on.

None of this was stuff I meant to write.  It just came out, and I figure why not?  Let it occupy electrons on the web.  Let me spend some time thinking about the people I've loved and lost, and feel gratitude in their memories.

This art is a re-post.  I've got a migraine today and can't see well enough to paint today.  You can see the original story of canoeing with Dad HERE.  What better way to think myself out of a headache than remembering dip... drip... of a paddle on a predawn summer morning?

16 comments:

  1. I don't know why I don't remember this art. It's so great! Maybe I will in another life. Good luck with the migraine thing, Linda. Love the sentiments in the words here... :)

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  2. Such a beautiful painting Linda...there are so many memories woven into it. Your prose today is perfect and very thought provoking. ...one thing is certain. .life is very precious. Get better soon. Sending a hug xx

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  3. well said! and love the painting

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  4. Linda, this is the third time that I try to upload a comment. I hope this time it will work. I love your painting, showing care in theme and colouruse. I also agree about our beloved ones who have crossed the river Styx. One possibility you didn't ponder, that they, our passed beloved ones, took your shoes with them.

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    1. I don't know why it was so hard to comment, but I appreciate your effort. Thanks! Now I've got to wonder about why my loved ones steal shoes? :)

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  5. Never saw the first edition of your painting so glad you published the second on your blog again. It's so serene and peaceful. You definitely are expressing a pleasant time canoeing with your dad.

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  6. Thanks everybody! Maybe I'll dig around in some of my long past posts and show some of them again since it's been so long since I posted them the first time. Headache is somewhat better, but still feeling kind of delicate. I hope everyone else has a spectacular weekend, and Happy Mother's Day to all the mothers out there!

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  7. A friend reminded me once (when I was in a less-than congenial mood about someone else) that "we need to honor those we have journeyed with." Although I wasn't very happy to hear that at the time, I see the wisdom of it in retrospect... We learn something with or from everyone who passes through our short lives, even if their moment-hour-day-season-years with us are not enjoyable. And the shared experiences that *are* enjoyable are especially precious. Your painting captures that perfectly! It seems your heart and mind work brilliantly even when your vision is being ziggy... :-)

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  8. I've also been told that we should thank the people who make our lives miserable because they teach us valuable lessons. Can't say I'm really evolved enough for that kind of gratitude but I guess I understand the concept. I'm happier to express gratitude to the nice people like you Susan. Thanks for sharing the journey!

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  9. The art is perfect for voyage. I left my favorite pair of flip flops on an island in Belize. Lost people are harder to forget though.

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  10. Words of wisdom, Linda. We can only live our lives ourselves - even if others may help on the way or give us guidance. And I like the thought that those people we lose out of sight for one reason or another - are still out on some rock or somewhere else. I hope your headache will soon pass. Wish you all the best.

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  11. The linked post about canoeing with your father is beautiful. I'm sorry you lost him early.

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  12. Thanks everybody! Here's to hoping for headache-free days for all!

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  13. I found myself pondering over your statement, "No one else can live our lives for us;" actually, the entire paragraph.

    And also, you've got me thinking about death, which is hard not to think of these days as I get older and know people my own age who have passed away. I like your take on where they are and relating it to your missing shoes.

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    1. I read your post from the link. It is great for a Father's Day tribute; though we don't have to wait for a day to remember and love our Dads, do, we? :)

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