They tell us that life is a "journey", not a "destination", right? That we are supposed to step out of our comfort zone and experience every opportunity that presents itself, right?
With that in mind, this past weekend, I helped an old friend with an art show, and I also attended a mass.
At this point, some of you are asking "So what?". Some of you are laughing your asses off. And the rest of you think I am lying. If you are in the first category, you obviously don't know me very well. If you fall into the last two categories, you know me well enough to know I can't draw a recognizable stick man, and you know I am spiritual person, but not a religious one.
I love art, I appreciate it, and often times I crave it. I just can't produce it. But I have a close friend who can. And even though I have watched her paint for many years, I often find myself wondering how creating something this beautiful could be humanly possible. See....I told you I was spiritual.
I want to be a part of this art world so badly that I do the other things I know how to do, just to sit on the perimeter of greatness. I write for her, I do research for her, I frame for her, I design displays for her....but at the end of the day, I am still just an observer of her gift.
There was one magical moment, perhaps my only brush with creativity, when I was trying to prove I really couldn't draw a stick person. My friend the artist, suppressing a laugh while totally disbelieving this was the best I could do, took my hand and attempted to guide me. But sadly, there was some invisible barrier between her gift and my bumbling attempt at stick art that prevented any improvement. Whatever belief I ever had in osmosis vanished into the Santa Fe desert sunset. So, like a humble servant in the house of an aristocrat, I accept my station in the art world with grace.
My friend the artist is a Catholic, probably the most devout Catholic I have ever known. Because she had spent the past eight months helping to restore the walls and alter and atop 50-foot high scaffolding painting on the ceiling of a beautiful old cathedral, an invitation to view her work was attached to attending mass. Surprising even me, I was excited at the prospect of doing both.
After his death, Carl Sagen's wife said that each day, he searched for proof of the existence of God. I like to think that is what I am doing too, and I want to be open to the prospect when it presents itself. So, I went to mass with my friend, with the ulterior motive of admiring her artistry.
The cathedral was beautiful and I loved the formality and the pageantry of the service. I have a feeling that my extended contemplation of my friend's work on the ceiling was mistaken for some sort of heavenly communication.
I sat in my seat like a lone outcast as the rest of the congregation participated in communion. My friend had told me before the service I could go down and instead of partaking of the wine and wafer, ask for a blessing instead. But I declined........I had some reservations that involved hypocrisy. So I sat alone, my penance for my religious quandary.
But as I sat there and watched these people, I was moved. I was touched by their devotion and sincerity and their total lack of inhibition for their faith.
And it occurred to me that this step out of my comfort zone had opened up a new path on my journey......
