Stitches are removed, and we had fun yesterday. Before we set out, we had a plan.....but we know from years of 'driving around,' that those plans rarely turn out as we plan them.
My faithful readers will remember my posts about graffiti and its origins. One of yesterday's stops was a campground we used to stay at. In order to get to it, one must cross a railroad track. As we were on our way out back to the highway, we heard a train whistle its warning. What happened next was nothing less than one of my self-proclaimed mini miracles. Yup, a parade of graffiti-decorated train cars paraded right in front of us. In my excitement, I managed to capture a few photos.
Well, after a bit of keyboard research, I found CINEL's story......Cinel is the graffiti artist's name, and he is based out of Vancouver, Canada, and has painted in a few other countries. Shown below are train cars that Cinel has painted......can you find the one that we saw yesterday?
This is the perfect example of the joy of learning. Yesterday morning I never saw, nor had I heard of a graffiti artist Cinel. Today I know about him, saw his actual work in a moving art gallery and if ever I see a train car with that name, I'll know the artist and where he's from.
Oh, there's more to yesterday, but will make the most of it by sharing one increment each day. Along with the passion for writing, comes the need for topics to write about.
Reading, writing, researching and repurposing are my life passions. Without them, I'd go raving crazy. All things have their disadvantages, tho. Reading, writing, researching and repurposing are all I want to do. At this juncture, everything else is a frickin' chore that creates a sense of guilt in me. House work is no less painful than dipping me in boiling tar and feathering me.
The years keep on teaching me to be true to me. I'm pretty sure I've given most of myself away over the years, and now it's time to tend to what is left. With each loss, we lose a part of ourselves. It's not only when someone passes away, it's the pain we feel when someone shuts us out. That has happened to me for the last time. From now on my gates are closed. I find the essence of my existence in learning. It is how I refill my life goblet and fill the breaks in my heart.
On my desktop is a shortcut to The Writings of Michael Montaigne (1533-1592). It's where I go when I need mental support. Montaigne didn't write structured and grand narratives, but rather his personal thoughts and experiences in a conversational style. Montaigne was a skeptic and questioned everything. He preferred concrete examples and experiences over abstract knowledge intended to be accepted unquestioningly.
It's a dreamy spring day where we live, and the fresh air wafting into our Venny unit feels heavenly. It definitely gets us motivated to get a few new things and discard a few old things. Guess it's all part of the spring fling!