Switching canoes mid-river is entirely possible... but you have to be in balance, you have to shift your weight very carefully and you have to be fully focused on the tasks at hand. Let those boats rock... those boats will rock,those boats will rock, that's just what boats do... they rock when you standup in them... so, let them rock, but be very, very careful....I am swtiching canoes while juggling viewpoints, life equations and perceptions all at once. Can't change what IS, these are the circumstances. I have some dear life-long friends who are trying to wish me well. some shine a light on the bank I just left, some shine a light on the bank I am headed for. Both are distractions, but I am trying to be kind. They have no idea, neither of them, how delicate these manuevers I am trying to survive are , nor how important it is that I make it to where I am going. Seems like I have made stuff like I am now doing look easy, in the past... but now, it is very, very, very different. Now it is extremely dangerous... there are waves in these waters, crockodiles everywhere, and lost cuases rise up out of the mirky water beckoning me to give them another chance. Distractions galore... and all this is leaning me in ways that you wouldn't believe... the folks on both shores think I am showing off... they think this is a staged daredevil event... they roar with approval, and I do what I can to try to hear the small voices among their clamour who are trying to tell me what is really going on... It's a dangerous process and you do not want to live this life, like the one I am in the middle of trying to shift to the new canoe..... it's a livehshoo... a live shoo.... and the time/clock is ticking, ticking, ticking... I am severely limited regarding my availability to this computer, this center, these processes. I have to juggle the whole arrangement of things with deft hands. I get the same ole intuitions and I follow through on the ones that seem supported, I also notice a few folks running like hell, while a few others walk closer. The newcomers seem to be bright, brilliant and ready.. My work goes on... those old days seem to be fading, yet I put out th ecall for help, hoping someone throws in a rope, so I can pull myself across, once the new conaoe stops shaking. It's gotten easier to paint. Everyso often a wise goddess gives me a show, as if to say that she senses I need empowerment... so she dances in the distance. How does this look? sometimes it's as simple as the non-verbal communion I expereinced in the parking lot of my favorite nature retreat. She watched me, and I studied her watching me, while she packed her bike, and I packed my gear and my bike. Just the two of us, while she massaged her athletic legs with moisturizer... I thought, "wow... she feels completely safe with me here" and I felt definitely empowred. How did she know that would mean so much? There we were, and both of us busy with our packing... she could have stood anywhere else, I know I would have... yet she faced me... 20 feet away, peeled off her sweater, massaged her tired muscles after her mountain bike ride, and I maintained my sense of feeling respected, of feeling honored, of helping her feel safe... I packed my bike on my roof.. I packed my watercolor gear in my art truck... and everyso often, I 'd see her study me... and she kept being full and in here power. I did not say a thing... neither did she... I kept busy... so did she... then as I rolled away, I wondered... "did she recognize me from my local Cable acees tv show?" ... had she seen me around town?... How did she know I was so ready to protect her? How did she know that her safety there was my main concern? How did she know that I was so grateful she could be herself in those ways, right there, knowing that I was nearby? I was studying her, studying me... and my shaky canoe was getting steady. ..... and I was damn grateful, because that level of respect and honor and trust in my presence filled my soul... it was exactly what I needed to know... and I am still breathing that integrity reflected in. How rare it is that women feel this safe... I choose to believe she had seen my show over these past 10 years. I choose to believe she was letting me know that she was grateful for my work and knew that my respect for her beauty was guaranteed..... And I was thinking fondly that I had finally crossed a bridge, in a way... that I could see the beuaty in her at her age... I was noticing that she was beuatiful , yet she wasn't your avearage young hotty. she was a mature professional woman. I love the idea that she was feeling empowered knwoing that I saw beauty in her, at her age... I was sensing that she might be one of those professional women who wonders where all the real, honorable men are... and I was wondering if she was thinking I could have shared coffee with her, if I had only asked. And I was noticing that it wasn't even in my process... why? Because, I didn't want her to take any conversation from me in the wrong way... so, I didn't offer how beautiful the day was, or why I was feeling so happy about the watercolor I had just started out on the hill that day... I wanted her to bring up a conversation, and if she did, I would have responded, but as far as I was concerned, the safety there was primarily for her, and the power to speak was in her , and I did not want to intrude.. so I kept busy... I packed my gear and left, while waving a respectful goodbye... I love it when I get shown this kind of beauty while I move through this alienated town. I love it when the girls takes a cell phone picture and smiles while she drives by... thanking me for the art truck. For now, my life is all about making it across this river... I have no time to really visit with anyone... all eyes are on the distant bank. 3edYcv