Wandering around SF MOMA yesterday all alone and then with a good friend was good for my frame of mind. Seeing groups of small children engaging with art made me feel hopeful. And the constant motion of figures ebbing and flowing through galleries was like a never ending dance, giving scale and meaning to monumental paintings.
To escape the real world, I took myself to see "Frank Stella: A Retrospective," at the de Young Museum last week. I remembered exactly where I was in my college library thumbing through "ArtForum" magazine when I first saw Stella's paintings which were catching everyone's eye at the time. Knocked my socks off. New rules. No rules. It was the 60s. Anything was possible. It was inspiring then. And it is inspiring now. It was just the blast of light I needed to give this dark time a little perspective. Never give up Hope.
Being in touch. With family and friends, and making contact with everyone I encounter. Embraced by my community, small kindnesses greet me at unexpected times. A faint rainbow flickered on the horizon last week during a light rain. I am holding on to hope. And beauty. And goodness.