Friday, January 3, 2014

It Isn't All Sunshine . . .

I wonder if there's a song by that name? It seems to fit where I'm at right now. I felt so positive on January 1st, but I've come down with a wicked head and chest cold and cough, and have spent the last two days climbing in and out of bed, unable to do much besides blowing my nose and heating up my Kitambaa Cosie (my version of a "magic bag") along with drinking lots of fluids and using up lots of kleenex. I know, I know. This is a "first world problem", and yes, I'm the same person who has written to you very recently about widows in Uganda needing the money to rent land so that they're able to eat, and about Recheal starting her own shelter and clinic for those affected by HIV. But this is also part of my life. My best laid plans get swept aside by illness, family commitments, or just plain practical errands that can't be put off any longer. It occurs to me that sometimes we need to hear that other people share these woes and are similarly thwarted in their efforts to "live the creative life". Today I read the post from Robert Genn, author of the Painter's Keys who posts a newsletter on the web twice weekly. He's a man who is full of a world of wisdom, but today he was writing from the bed in his bedroom, as he learns to live with pancreatic cancer, and to realize that his life as an artist is going to end sooner than he might have hoped. But it's what he wrote about that really touched me. He described the view from his window in loving detail, and reflected on his life lived making art. So I have something to learn here. Instead of moaning and groaning, it might have been smarter for me to head to the local coffee shop, and then armed with a wonderful latte (and my kleenex), and then to have driven down to the beach to enjoy the sunrise. It came up in glorious colour at 8:30 a.m. today, but I was so busy feeling crummy that I missed the opportunity to see a part of that world described so eloquently by Robert Genn. But as I wrote on New Year's, the important thing is to pick myself up when I fall or when I miss these golden moments, and to carry on trying to do better tomorrow. So there are no photos today - just mumblings and ramblings as I share the shadow side of my creative life. I will talk to you all again soon.


  1. All moaning aside, I know that you know that spending two days in bed nursing that cold is going to shorten its duration and get you back to your creative life sooner, right? and that there is some weird thing that happens after a time of stress that makes us more susceptible to coming down with that cold? (implying that we should be grateful for reduced stress now??) and that sharing your germs at a coffee shop would be more generous than you should be? I know you know this! Feel sorry for yourself, sure, but don't kick yourself for staying in bed. You are allowed to heal! Now give yourself permission and get your half-full cup back in view.

    There, did that help?

  2. Wise words, Lee. Still it's good to be reminded. Many thanks.