Friday, January 30, 2009

What DO I want to do?

Someone asked me last night, what I want to do with the time that's left.
I don't want to work. I don't mean that I want to be a lazy bones and sit here waiting to perish, but rather, I don't want to have to spend my time doing something that doesn't give me joy.

I want to paint again - I want to travel - I want to create. Ironically, all of these things take money and energy - things of which I do not have. I do not have the energy to trekk the rainforests of the Amazon, I do not have the money to quit my jobs (all of them) and paint. Guilt and worry creep in again. For my wife - not for me. I have nothing to leave her but a mortgage and a broken heart. I was never insurable and am technically worth nothing. I joke about selling my paintings now before they become inflated with value (which often happens once an artist dies). More and more it's sounding like an excellent marketing strategy not merely a joke. Anything to cover her costs of school while I am ill, costing her.

The traveling I want to do is not very exotic. I've always wanted to travel to far off places like Thailand, Israel, India etc. but I have this feeling that I'll get there one day. I don't label it reincarnation or the lot. There just isn't a sense of urgency for the exotic anymore. The only 2 places I still crave before the end draws near are Newfoundland and the everglades in Florida. Why those simple, plain locations? I've traveled to every province in this country but Nfld. I want to take my Western girl to the most Eastern part of the country. That and I heard it's full of rocks: I love rocks. They are wonderful to paint. There's so much colour depending on the light.

The second destination, the everglades is because I love Florida. Not because of it's plastic playgrounds and tacky fair, but because of it's untamed 'wilderness'. I keep it close to my heart as one of my spiritual places. I want to show my wife the elegance of the manatee. I want to show her another side of plastic-world. I want to show her why I connected with the wild moss strewn strees, the swampy alligator-filled drain pipes and the HighwayMen art. I want to show her what was at the other end of the phone when we chatted during nights' fall that summer semester in 2003.