A year ago today I was holed up in Utah, ruminating on the professional arc that had brought me there and then, sifting through personal matters at the tail end of a sabbatical. Today–my forty-ninth birthday–I find myself in an improved position. Not in a material sense. But I've been more productive, more focused in the 12 months just past.
Last December 16th I wrote:
I have gone back to drawing the world. So today I’ll draw some rocks in a blank book. Later maybe I’ll paint the rocks in gouache. Or maybe I won’t. We’ll see. But at this late date, two years shy of a half-century, the act of showing up, of looking and listening, has been revealed to me as a wonderment. I expect to enjoy what comes next. I don’t know what it will be, of course. But I do know what it’ll be built out of. This. Now. Here.My blogging has fallen off considerably, for good reasons I'll articulate soon. Tasks, plus a little tumult as well. But I like where I sit tonight, and I look forward to next year with a strong sense of anticipation. More soon.
Image: D.B. Dowd, Grinnell, Iowa, sketchbook gouache painting of two trees on a very cold day in February 2009.