Call Me Ishmael

Pencil Portrait of Herman Melville

Pencil Portrait of Herman Melville

But these are all landsmen; of weeks pent up in lath and plaster–tied to counters, nailed to benches, clinched to desks.  How then is this?  Are the green fields gone?  What do they here?

Herman Melville, Moby Dick

I sailed out of summer school this morning at 8:37, free until the new term begins in 4 1/2 days.  I was one of those “clinched to desks” in recent weeks, at least during the first part of each working day.  I knew from my waking moment that today would be special.  As breakfast was cooking, I reached for my copy of Moby Dick which I began reading numerous times over the past twenty years, convinced that this summer would be different.  We’ll see.  The opening pages are captivating to me–I love Melville’s way of turning sentences.  Even before sitting down to eat, I “saw” that vast ocean as a metaphor of my unbridled freedom until Monday, and began making plans of injecting Quality into this break.

As I sit over my morning coffee (I brewed it, but didn’t have time to drink it during final exams, grading, etc.) and resume my reading of Melville, I’ll reflect with a spirit of gratitude on the gift that this day has already brought.  Maybe I’ll even make some new artwork this afternoon (the Melville drawing is from 1990)–we’ll see!

Thanks for reading.

I paint in order to remember.

I journal when I feel alone.

I blog to remind myself that I am not alone.

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