April 2013

I’m climbing a mountain tomorrow, and amidst the flurry of packing and preparing, I am here, writing and space clearing.

Why do we climb mountains?

A quote from the baul of 2005:

You cannot stay at the summit forever; you have to come down again. So why bother in the first place?

Just this: What is above knows what is below, but what is below doesn’t know what is above.

One climbs, one sees. One descends, one sees no longer, but one has seen.

– Rene Daumal

Most of us climb the mountains of practical things on a day-to-day basis. We trek the worries of money, time, health and appetites.  But I think the mountains that we are ultimately faced with — and those we should be bothering with– are the mountains of relationships.   People. The most inexhaustible anything in this world.

In the course of painting and drawing everyday, I’ve been moving consciously towards finding beauty in everything– and it’s wonderful — but I find the beauty in people most inexhaustible.

People as our daily mountains.  Who are the mountains that haunt you, that give you peace, that leave you inspired and humbled?

I’ve heard the word assault used to refer to climbing a mountain, and I feel it’s misplaced.  As opposed to carrying out this task in violence, I say do it with love.  Hike it, prepare for it, do a pitstop, then ascend again, but gently, and lovingly.  To climb is automatically thought of as difficult, and beautifully so, don’t you think?

And to have this lovingliness in approaching people everyday…wow.

If we truly ask and seek, though, we will know as true that the highest and most overbearing mountain is the one inside us… and maybe this is the one that needs our love most of all.

Spent last Tuesday at the beach, on my second plein air painting session. Was a hot and humid day but I was just happy to finally understand (or begin to understand) why so many artists brave the elements of painting outdoors.

Standing on a hill facing this cliff gave me a surge of energy that one only feels in the open sea… wind blowing from all directions, waves flapping on the distant shore, and me, from my little gazebo — thankful for the midday shade– imagining the splishsplash music on those rocks across, with the white foam dancing on top and the fishes underneath joining in the merrymaking. Imagined there was a happy midday party going on, and I was a quiet observer, maybe out of place and imposing…but then again, maybe not.

Painting brings me so much joy, and on days like this, I remember why I have so much to be thankful for.

Scene 1 was down by the beach itself, with sand and saltwater all over me. Was a raw enough experience to paint on the sand, with my legs as my easel, and with passing clouds as shade.

Can’t wait to have more of these.

Thank you to my painting group, L’arc en Ciel, for the warm welcome and friendship.