My mom and I on the beach on her 60th birthday.  Taken October 20, 2005 near Venice Beach.

It is funny to me how quickly I begin to feel completely out of the loop when I stay away from my computer for a few days.  Between getting a last minute show for my collages in Santa Monica on Monday, my mom visiting all week from the east coast for her 60th birthday and this lingering cough, my time and ability to keep up with emails, my website and other online journals was very limited this week.  I took my mom to the airport this morning, then almost immediately hit the road for Solvang, where I spent a quiet afternoon with my laptop.  I have an ad for my site coming out on November 1st, so I am trying to get a number of updates done before then.  Today was the day I finally got a chance to sit down and list what those updates might be and get started.

Everyone’s comments on my recent posts have been like manna – they feed me in so many ways, giving me more to ponder and consider, and more positive energy to appreciate and enjoy.  With this cough taking its very sweet time to go completely away, I have felt pretty drained by the end of each day, more so than usual.  Being able to read such lovely comments at the end of a hectic week is a tremendous, lovely gift.

I feel as if I am just beginning to feel a wave rise beneath me – a wave I will be able to ride and enjoy if I am willing to take whatever opportunities appear before me and go for it.  I learned to surf soon after I moved to California more than ten years ago.  Everyone told me that when I saw a wave coming, I had to paddle hard and then pop up on my board when I felt the wave push me.  "How will I know when I’m in the right spot in the wave to pop up?", I asked.  "Don’t worry, you’ll know," they said.

It’s true – you just know.  You feel it beneath you, and it usually hits at that precise moment when you feel like your arms are about to fall off from paddling as hard as you can to meet the wave in that perfect spot.  It is at that moment when you then have to dig a little bit deeper and push yourself up on that board in one perfect motion, so you go from paddling on your stomach to standing on the board, riding the wave.  It is the greatest feeling when you nail it; it was during those moments that I could never stop myself from smiling.

I’m not riding my wave yet with this new path I’m on as an artist, but I do feel it moving towards me, and I’m paddling as hard as I can.  Even if I wipe out, I know it will be a fun ride, and it hasn’t even really begun yet.