I was doing my absolute best. My hands were clutching my rosary slung around my neck. From an observational point of view, I probably looked like someone choking themselves to death….
But, there I was…in a restaurant…for the first time in six years.
We’re all aware of my agoraphobia. I no longer need to leave Honeychurch. Like a hermetic monk, I rarely leave the property. Everything is delivered. Even my groceries. So, there is no need to leave.
Two weeks ago things went strange for me. I can’t explain it, but Phillip had a very good assessment of what was happening. “You are a freakin’ genius who can touch anything and make it just amazing…You seem to have forgotten how to do that.”
I haven’t made my own money in a while. I’ve not been selling, I should say. I haven’t been promoting the artist that is “Gregory Patrick.” No, I’ve spent my time helping my husband with his insane work schedule. I’ve been decorating the house, doing laundry, washing dishes, planting Widow’s Thrill up along the fence, working with the landlord to put in new windows, here to meet the deliveries, here to be available for anything and everything under the sun…except for myself.
I haven’t taken time for myself. Yes, I’ve been sketching, knitting, writing…but not doing anything with it. I no longer had interest in my own work, which is a really crappy place to be if you’re an artist. So I got depressed and called my mom.
As moms do, she agreed to come down for the weekend to help me work some things out. She had the most interesting condition, though. “Son, if I come down to visit, will you go have a coffee with me someplace, to get you out of the house?”
Of course.
But, I had someplace else in mind. When she arrived, I asked if we could have lunch at Saigon Noodle just up the block, there on the corner. I’m away from home, but I know my home is only a few feet away. But, there was an even deeper reason for my wanting to go there.
It was the first time I had sat at a table in public in six years. Again, I was clutching my rosary tight, staring at the window, talking to my mother….
The owner of the restaurant came by to check on us, perhaps wondering what this little bald man was doing holding a rosary so tight, so nervous about being in his establishment. So, I told him. “This is the first time I’ve eaten out in six years.”
“Why so long?”
“The reasons aren’t important. What is important is that the whole experience has been wonderful. The food and service have been amazing. Thank you, so much.”
“What made you want to come here?”
“She did. I knew I’d be safe.” And to that I turned to point at their wonderous artwork of the Blessed Mother on the wall.
“Well, of course! She is our Mother!” To that I could only smile and nod….and know that I was where I should be, with my mother, and that all in life would be fine.
So I don’t post pictures of myself anymore. I take pictures of my work. (Which is more important). If you want to see how gorgeous or gruesome I am, look for it in my work….look for it either in my writing, my temper, but for God’s sake, I will not let you see it on my face. For that was the day being pretty and youthful and bright was supposed to end.
I quickly stood, grabbed my keys, tucked my wallet in my back pocket and bolted. It was almost immediate. I locked up the front door and didn’t look back. “Go! Go look for beauty,” exclaimed the little voice.
I’ve also been doing a lot of sketching and illustrating. It’s spring and each year my heart and soul find a new artistry to pursue. Last year it was embroidery, this year it seems to be colored pencil on paper. I truly love it. I can’t wait for that moment when I wake, dash to my desk and start scribbling, regardless of what time of day or night it is. I am profoundly involved in this and cannot wait to see where it goes. Yes, I can do greeting cards, mugs, the list goes on. But, I’m still in the process of finding the right company to match my work. And as of now, I’ve done nearly 100 individual sketches. So, the possibilities are endless, but for now, I’m not going to rush. I’ll take my time and find the right place for my art. I don’t have a shop for all of that yet, but I’m working on it. It isn’t as easy as I thought it would be 🙂
Phillip has been spending a tremendous amount of time at the restaurant. With his promotion came a lot of responsibility….and with that, a lot of confidence in himself that he has been missing. He’s not captain of the ship yet, but you can tell he wants to get his hands on that steer. I’m proud of him. We don’t get to see each other as much, but we do make a point of spending time when he comes home at about 3am. We’ll have a toddy, dunked with a couple of Hobnobs, watch a little Taskmaster, then head to bed.
And then there is Honeychurch. I’ve been spending beautiful time in the sunlight. The windows have been cracked wide, all doors opened. Fresh air and sunlight have been abundant. So, I’ve been scouring every little nook and cranny off this old lady’s wrinkles, washing her up, polishing her up, dressing her up, decorating her and making her worth the beauty that she is. I have painted almost every wall, bleached every cabinet, wiped every base board. I needed to….
There are other little projects I’m working on here and there. (I’m sketching the bottom of a vintage cribbage board set in this picture!) I find something that inspires, that keeps the joy alive, then I gravitate, despite whatever else may be happening in the world. I gravitate towards joy….and everything else falls into place. (Thank you, God).
It was a Siouxsie and the Banshees T-shirt. Now, I’ve wanted this shirt for a while, couldn’t afford it, so I put it on my amazon wish list. Someone bought it a month ago….but, it never arrived. Did a porch pirate take my beloved Siouxsie???
But, no matter how many people were here, I spent my birthday with two of the people who mean most to me. My mother here, and my sister in spirit.
In the meantime, I’ve had too much time on my hands. Too much free time doesn’t work so well in my head. A collection of my crazies have come to nest….
My mother was sweet and sincere grabbing a few things off my wish list, but then this appeared in the mail. My granny’s hand was on my shoulder as I pulled it out of the box. There are so many things that these hands do that recall my grandmother. She never taught me to knit, to crochet, to sew, or how to drink tea. These things came natural to me because her spirit and love of artistry runs through my fingers. The minute I pulled the tea pot out of the box I exclaimed, “Oh, Phillip! It’s a tea pot from my mother!!!”
And the monks replied, “We accept them. We love them. Thanks be to God.” And suddenly, a roar of applause from their new brothers. You could feel that wave of love wash over everyone. No severity, only brevity. Quick and sudden. This is the first step in being a monk: accepting love before you can give it. You cannot give love to others if you won’t allow yourself to be loved first. 
“Could everything just slow down for a minute? I mean, come on! These last 50 years have just flown by! And I’m terrified! Yes, I will admit that I am positively terrified….The show is almost over, isn’t it, sweetheart? At some point the show has to end….and I’m terrified of that.”
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