I was cleaning out a drawer in my office There it was under a pile of sketchbooks. A notebook, a ledger I used for many years. Just lists of names, dates and progress on portraits, pageful after pageful. There must have been thousands. The whole notebook full seemed like an artifact of a life I no longer had. Before Dad and Grandma got sick and I was left to myself back in the woods.
I roll it up as best I can and light a match.
I stuff it in the wood stove with a couple of sticks.
It warms me.
I sell seven paintings.
I have let go of my security blanket.
As many times in my life I make a decision and the weight lifts off me, even when I don’t feel it there at all to begin with.
Leap, the net will appear.