Twenty years ago when a friend was suddenly killed in a car accident, a colleague of my then-employer said quite simply…life hangs by a thread. At that exact moment I was both stunned and comforted by that simple sentence. And fortunately or not I have not thought of it much since then. I have lost other friends, all to cancer where the thread is long while unraveling.
Until this week…I was reminded that life hangs by a thread when my husband was re-admitted to the hospital hemorrhaging from the medication given to him last week to manage the emboli. I was reminded when instead of being the regular blood donor he was the recipient of four pints. I was reminded when the ER doc said I better call my daughter. I was reminded when he was moved to the trauma unit. I was reminded when he was moved to ICU and I have been reminded every long hour of these 3 days .
Synchronistically I had mailed postcards of the exhibits where my work is to be seen this summer/fall. So many wondered how I found time. A recuperating husband (pre-hemorrhage) is a great label sticker. It was all about timing.
So I was surprised more than anything when the egos of artists began to surface as a result of my mailing. Here I am in the life hangs by a thread moment and am being bombarded with ‘poor me’ messages from art peers. If ever there was such a clear delineation between yin and yang, ego and spirit I don’t know what it is.
He just called and he is being released this morning. As I hit the freeway one more time I hope to integrate into my daily gratitude the wisdom of life hangs by a thread . As I sit currently with a foot in both worlds I get it.
My art is my passion and gives my life meaning. The ego of art is a waste of our precious time and valuable energy.