I was out painting on location
When a man walked up to me from behind
After a few pleasantries 
He declared that nothing we ever paint is original anymore
I turned around to look at him
To digest the words he just spewed into the air
And a sudden wave of sadness washed over my being

It is true what he had just said
I see and filter the world through my eyes, my heart, my intellect and then my soul
To get to a painting that is all uniquely mine
But yet somewhere in that filter, it's been influenced
By all the great work of Masters that have gone before me
I can never ever be called totally unique
Unlike the likes of Monet and Van Gogh
Who plowed through so many adversities and hurdles
To trailblazed a painting style that had never before done in their time

I had gone to Provence to visit the places 
Where Van Gogh had weaved his way through 
Came back and was in a painting session two weeks later
And not thinking about Van Gogh at all
I painted a picture of a vase with flowers out of my head
A passerby looked at my finished piece and declared he sees a Van Gogh in it

I somehow felt pleased 
That a Great Master's ghost had permeated 
And stayed within me
To manifest himself through the end of my brush...

But I still hope to carve a path that's all my own......

I remember being able to dance so fluidly to this song
My feet couldn't help tap in syn to the beat 
It was effortless to make up steps for the rhythm
My arms waved joyfully above the heat

Here I am playing that same song
But it's like I have never heard it before
My feet do not know where to go 
My arms hang strangely stiff 

That's when I realise it's because
We haven't sat together for a while
And it was you who had put that airy magic in my feet
And crazy joy in my arms......

I have to find this airiness, this magic, this crazines, this joy
This pulsating drumbeat and jiving step
For myself and by myself in my own life
Only then will I again
Be able to feel the musical notes and dance 
In syn with the Universe's rhythmic beat..... 
 

I was beside the waters
Working out this painting
With music blaring through the open doors of my car beside me

A man walked up behind me with his cutie of a dog
A little chi hua hua already full grown at 6 months old
Little but feisty, I asked if I may take a photo of it
SURE, he smiled and I asked if he would himself like to be in the pic with his canine kid
NO, I'M TOO OLD was his reply

When he left, a wave of sadness came over me
This man was grey in his hair but he was nowhere near seventy even
I would have guessed
He had a kindly smile and a youthful gait
And yet he thought himself not worthy to have his picture taken with his beloved friend
And if one thinks one is old and unworthy at such an age 
That is a long time to be feeling this way
Before one hits the grave

I felt sad and my eyes welled up
What do I have to look forward to for I sure don't want to feel this way 
For the latter half of my precious gift of a life

It must be possible to live outside time 
And not be defined by the number calculated from the date on your birth cert.
The fountain of youth must be found in one's mind
It is not about growing older but growing towards something and somewhere:
Growing towards the essence of one's true core 
And being one with the soul where it feels at home

I must not project to a younger person that it is terrible to be getting older
For what hope do I give that youth if I say to her
There's something unpleasant to look forward to 
While she's hurtling along life with great enthusiasm and wonder
That it will all end 
And she''ll only have a limited time to look glorious
And to achieve everything her heart desires!!??

One tends to be forgetful as one progresses in life they say
Yah..you may as well forget what your chronological age is.... lol!