Poor pup has to hang out on the bear. Nothing more to do when there’s art being created. Oh well.

I can feel my energy slowly coming back. I am re-entering the art making – not just the art dreaming. And it feels good to me, if not my pup.

Meantime, I was thinking about why I had such a time being still, not “performing”, not making my art. And the image which kept coming to mind was this incident that happened when I was in fourth grade. That year. I was not at school. I was home – doing what I love to do: riding. I was on my pony, Sugarlump, who had once been a circus pony so her back was wide enough for a person to stand on, facing forward. She was solid, trustworthy. I rode her for years of my childhood. But on this day, I was going over a jump. I don’t recall why, but I fell forward onto her neck with my left arm askew and in between. In that instant came pain. Pain that would not go away.

My father’s words: “People in our family do not break bones.” He put one of his white cloth napkins around my arm and I wore it to school for 2 days. The pain was unremitting. Finally on day 3, my mother took me in and the x-ray showed a broken arm. Only then did I cry.

There are times when pain isn’t real. Then there are times when it is. And it’s taken me some time to learn that – yes, sometimes – pay attention.

And isn’t it just such a blessing when it passes? Don’t you want everyone to feel that kind of lift, but skip the pain? Why not?

Let the art do that, right? No pain. Just lift.