May 8, 2000

     No more dreams since i wrote about them the other day.  Maybe Master's idea was exactly the right thing to do (and now i can hear Him crowing all ready, when He reads this.  He likes being right).  Anyway, i managed to get more of the essay written for my daughter, although it feels like i am pulling my teeth out in the attempt.  And i did make a doctor's appointment, just to satisfy the superstitious part of me.  Well, and to find out why i keep getting pains in my side.  

     i've discovered that i like art galleries.  Love them actually.  A lot.  Especially when Master buys me a painting as an early birthday gift!  A few months ago, He had directed me to the website of a gallery that He likes and while there i discovered an artist who's work just takes my breath away.  i downloaded an image of a painting of his and set it up as the background for my desktop.  The artist's name is Phil Irish and his new exhibit is being held at the Michael Gibson Gallery.  

     Anyway, once i found out that the artist was going to be having a show, i asked Master if we could set some time aside to go.  He suggested we make it to the opening night, and so this past Friday, off we went.  

     i've gotten bolder about how i handle being in a gallery.  The first few times i visited one i held back, afraid to appear uncultured or gauche.  Now i feel like a little bird, flitting from one painting to another, looking for the *one*.  The one that will make me stop and stare.  Let me feel it.  Let me taste it and see passion in its essence.  i watch other people linger over every painting, discussing each one with a friend or partner, before moving on to the next.  i'm not like that at all. If the art doesn't touch something in me, i move on right away.  In fact i don't even wait for Master now.  He saunters off in His own direction and only occasionally will find Himself being tugged by His sleeve to come see some recent discovery of mine.  

     And tucked away in the back of the gallery was "the one".  The discovery.  It is tinier than all the rest of the paintings, and is actually very similar to the one named Treacherous Beauty.  i was drawn to it like a moth to light.  It spoke to something inside me that was irresistible.  i felt if i touched it's rippling waves, my fingers would be as wet as the water it portrays.  Do i sound like i fell in love?  i did.

     Master was as taken with the painting as me.  That was a bonus.  But more important was the fact that i did the choosing of this painting.  i got brave, i set aside my insecurities and i made a choice.  Without being prodded.  Without being asked and expected to answer.  i alone, did something very good for my self esteem.  

     i feel really good about that.    

     shadoe