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May 02, 2006
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People often ask me how I can face working with terminally ill kids.
"Don't you get totally depressed?" They say.
"How do you cope with the sadness? I couldn't do it."
Yes, I do get sad sometimes.
And when I'm sad, I close my eyes and travel inward, down a gravel road, throught the fall foliage and across a small stream until I see the house.
My inner house.
With smoke trailing from the chimney.
With the smell of my favorite choclate cake wafting through the open window.
With the door always open.
It's a special place deep inside me where my late gradfather and granmother live.
Where I always find my late dad, sipping tea, in an over stuffed chair, ready to have a good chat.
Where the kids I know - who have passed away - play under the big oak trees, pain free and blissful.
My inner house is not far. Just a few deep breaths away.
This is the place I visit when I need comfort.
When I need nurturing.
When I need peace.
How long do I stay?
Not long.
I leave when I hear 'self pity' creeping around in the basement looking for an opportune time to come up drag me down there for a visit.
Posted by trevor at May 2, 2006 10:03 AM
Comments
Trevor, I love the work you've done recently with the painted photography... stunning and beautiful!
Posted by: MG at May 2, 2006 10:59 AM
Really like this! I would be by the water with a book.
Posted by: Anne at May 2, 2006 01:52 PM
Even all caps and lots of exclamation points can't approach my WOW! reaction to this painting. Totally gorgeous!
Posted by: Nita at May 2, 2006 04:49 PM
Like a Klimt´s Castle. A lovely home for your soul.
Posted by: Gilda at May 3, 2006 05:04 PM