Glad Rising
France class demonstration, 16X16, oil and acrylic on textured canvas

My blue-shuttered window in France overlooks a 17th-century church and rolling hills. The quiet at night and at dusk in this tiny village is profound. Sometimes there are footsteps below my window that come closer and then move on, echoing on the stone walls. With two full workshops lined up, some students who are visiting Le Vieux Couvent for the first time, and a huge painting agenda ahead (not to mention shopping and eating), there is still room to stop and breathe. It’s the thing I forget to do most of all when I am home. There is a blanket of serenity that wraps its arms around you when you walk through the green gate and step into Corinne’s gardens.

When students arrive here for the first time, I feel a bit like Willy Wonka, leading his charges into the chocolate factory for the first time—watching joy rising on their faces and seeing a bit of wonder there, too. I am reminded of what Lorraine, a friend from Australia, told me last year when she saw my eyes land on the flower stall in the open-air market here.

Run. Run toward your happiness. Life is so sweet, but so very short. Hold onto all the love and joy you can, today. In the past brief time, I have lost my mother, my aunt who was like a sister to me, and my young heart pug, Annie. I will keep breathing, moving forward, continuing to create—all of the intermediate therapies that get us over the hard bits—until we can laugh again and feel wonder and joy again.

Finding space in your heart to bloom and grow again

The chocolate factory in France!

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