From this fine Brainpickings article, When Things Fall Apart: Tibetan Buddhist Nun and Teacher Pema Chödrön on Transformation Through Difficult Times
To stay with that shakiness — to stay with a broken heart, with a rumbling stomach, with the feeling of hopelessness and wanting to get revenge — that is the path of true awakening. Sticking with that uncertainty, getting the knack of relaxing in the midst of chaos, learning not to panic — this is the spiritual path. Getting the knack of catching ourselves, of gently and compassionately catching ourselves, is the path of the warrior. We catch ourselves one zillion times as once again, whether we like it or not, we harden into resentment, bitterness, righteous indignation — harden in any way, even into a sense of relief, a sense of inspiration.
If you’re painting en plein air, your brushes should not be grass green. Ask me how I came upon this notion! I’m tempted to dip the ends of all my brushes in safety yellow or blaze orange just for ease of finding. And no, I didn’t find the brush I dropped and I spent too much time looking. If it turns up in the corner of a bag or something it will be a freakin’ miracle.
I’d headed over to The Clark for a 9 AM curator-led gallery walk of the Picasso print exhibit. That was very interesting and informative. I’ll go back some other early morning to go through again and look at everything with some new ideas. Afterwards, I enjoyed the rest of my coffee and headed up toward the back hill. It was hard to pick a view – there were great clouds in all directions. I took my roll-up stool with me because it poured last night. That was a good decision, unlike the green-handled brush. At least it wasn’t one of my new brushes – I’d still be there looking.
Not quite done, but mostly.
There was a promo code for Blick the other night, the stuff itself couldn’t be discounted any further (I always choose stuff like that!) but there was free shipping. That gave me a $3.00 fedex option so I took it. Talk about immediate gratification.
Only did a few washes with the brushes but man they hold HUGE amounts of water as promised and so beautiful in the hand. The larger one (not the largest to be had, by any means) is a size 6.
I have a weird childhood memory of going on a picnic with the Frezon grandparents and, no doubt, Aunt Marie and that we were in dark woods and at, not a stream, but a spillway. And over the years I’ve told myself that it was along the Black River which is up in Rensselaer County.
Today I didn’t explore all of Black River Road (although I did later go down, and by down I mean steeply down and often at right angle turns a road called Toad Point Road (aka County 88) which magically dumped me onto rte 22) but I did drive up to Cherry Plains State Park and voila, there was a spillway. It wasn’t so dark although if we walked into a bit of woods I think it would have been dark enough to remember.