June 28, 2010

Eyes Wide Open

I’m sitting on a roof deck overlooking the tailored grounds of a Twelfth Century pillared building, lit by a street lamp below me. Roses and geraniums adorn it’s entry, leading into one of numerous art museums in Winterthur, Switzerland. At 1:27 am, it is closed. It is not because of jet lag that sleep eludes me. That has come and gone. After days of cycling through the Alps, I’ve adjusted to the time switch (which is now 2:00 am, according to the magical gong of Swiss church bells). This body exhaustion-brain wired state of insomnia reflects the strongest of my PD symptoms. Travel tends to feed into it even more. But I’m not willing to give up exploring the land, culture, food of different places. No, PD takes too much as it is, I’m handing over the old bell tower that was our inn the night we rode into Sedrum, […]
May 21, 2010


Additions to my gratitude list: – crickets at night – gum – charcoal pencils – fiddlehead ferns – the sparkle of last night’s raindrops in early morning sun – the clusters of four-petaled white-flowered weeds sprouting up in my yard, and how they’re always surrounded by others, never just one out there alone.
May 1, 2010

The Art of Yoga

If, a year ago, someone told me that I’d be spending my Wednesday mornings sketching nudes, I’d have pleaded to mow the lawn instead. Maybe take out the trash. I’ve never been a student behind an easel, never even stood at an easel for that matter. The mention of a charcoal pencil sent my mind into a chatter fest of excuses not to draw or, heavens, paint. I remember I trembled. And worried. How could I possibly produce something that wouldn’t be clumsy and inept? When my first symptoms of PD grew too strong to hide, I became that frightened student again, wishing for another diagnosis the way I’d preferred to have done chores. Again, I trembled and felt clumsy and inept. Four years later, something magical has happened. I picked up a paintbrush and it felt good. I now grin the entire time at an art store replenishing yellow […]