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From the time I had the
mental capacity to do so I could always imagine my future. I could see myself in medical school or
imagine what my lfe would be like as an intern and resident. I imagined my first medical practice
years before It came to be, and when Patience and I decided to move to the
country my mind was filled with notions and images of country living. I was living in Paducah months before I
was living in Paducah. What ever
it was to be, I could envision the next chapter in my life or the next stage of
the journey…until now.
Over the past several
years the future has been quietly slipping away from me. I can no longer clearly imagine what I
want, or what I expect the future holds for me. For the first time I have no long term plan to lean on
beyond my current studio projects.
It has occurred to me that my future is in the canvas on the easel or
the watercolor in progress on my drawing table, or perhaps the essay on ageing that I have been struggling
with for the past several months.
I will occasionally get caught up in a gust of enthusiasm over a new
project and reclaim at least some vision of what may lie ahead for me, but it
is never sustainable. I’m being
forced to do something I have never been able to do very well…live in the
moment.
It is all a bit
disconcerting.
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