This will be a short one as my little overburdened red laptop is groaning and moaning and not cooperating with my increasingly impressive typing speed.
This writing every day has gotten me back into my better habits. Some of these include:
Writing. (Obviously)
Observing the little things, like the fact that eccentric Irishman Tom, colorful character of the neighborhood of Plaka, was walking around with a Santa Claus on top of his head. No, not a hat, a little Santa Clause, spread eagle across Tom's tall brow. It was a nice reminder to pay attention. Sometimes life offers out these "what doesn't belong in the picture" moments, and they will lift your mood.
Walking with the intention of finding things. Would you believe in the last few days I have found on the sidwalks perfectly good paper clips, old photographs, orange and white ribbon, and a pretty leaf? And to think, every one who passed by has just stepped over these treasures!
And most importantly, drawing and painting again.
I don't want to say to much, but after eighty more days of writing, I believe the next big challenge will be posting a picture a day.
My muses have been paying attention. They're rewarding me by whispering little ideas in my ear, little things to keep me motivated.
Tonight, a new moon, I went to Aereopagus Hill to say my pleases and my thank yous for all of the little lessons life has handed me the last few weeks. I said please because there is something big I am asking for; again, I'm not saying anything yet. I'm sorry but I've become terribly superstitious...I don't even count my chicks until they have become big fat hens.
Walking down Aeropagitou street, a long wide stretch of cobblestone lined with neoclassical mansions to the left and the rock of the Acropolis to the right, I was reminded that we are entering Athens finest hour of the year, this late spring, early summer, when people begin staying outside until the small hours of the day and the lights are glowing warmly against the night sky. It's a beautiful city after dark... and I've never felt unsafe even when wandering aimlessly in the rabbit warren streets.
But this night I was not wandering. I know this path so well, and it struck me as a gift to have this city for a home where I can claim familiarity with one of the treasures of civilization, an icon of our achievements as critters, because really we're not so different than the dogs lounging on the rocks or the cats perched on the fences. We did, however, (at least a select few of our ancestors ancestors ancestors) recognize this place as special and create this striking structure that now stands above the twittering, twinkling lights of the city below.
And on this glorious structure (or at least on this rock where the gods tried gods and men tried men) there was a guitar player singing to a small cluster of kids, thoroughly enjoying his playing and singing along. I sat just close enough to enjoy and did exactly what I told you, said Thank you. Said "Please." I tried to be specific without being greedy. I believe someone is going to hear me and I will tell you when it turns up in my life.
I don't think it will be long, but it will come at just the right moment.
