stuffing my eyes full of pretty

The hours when the mind is absorbed by beauty are the only hours we live.

  - Richard Jefferies, The Life in the Fields, 1884

That's a quote I scribbled in my Moleskine last week, a quote prominently displayed on the wall of the Cult of Beauty exhibition at the Palace of Legion of Honor in San Francisco.  The timing of seeing that show with its reverence for capital-B Beauty couldn't have been better for me.  How wonderful that in Week 4 of my convalescence, I was witness to so much gorgeousness, gorgeousness I would surely have missed had I been on my regular schedule, too busy with regular chores to take a time out for a saunter through a museum.  The orange in the painting above when you see it in real life, with nothing between you and the canvas, is truly not to be believed -- the most remarkable marigold hue.  I stood in front of it a long time, in awe.

Someone commented the other day that I am having the Best Ever Convalescence.  I've been to the museum three times now -- two weeks ago to the genial JP Gaultier exhibition at the deYoung (on until August 19th, for heaven's sake, go see it), last week The Cult of Beauty at the Legion (ended Sunday, unfortunately), and today the Academy of Sciences.  And I'm scheduled for the Academy next Tuesday, too, during blissful members-only hours, when tourists and toddlers are at a blessed minimum.  And next week's visit will be followed by a stop at Paxton Gate where I will most assuredly be further dazzled (and buy myself a present).

While it is true indeed that I'm having loads of fun, I think what's more important to me still is what I'm learning and re-learning on this break, essential lessons about myself  that I hope never to forget again, the biggest of which is that:

I need to stuff my eyes with pretty on a regular basis.

I am so much happier, so excited, so wildly entertained at museums -- I NEED this exposure to other people's art, the marvels that people and nature are capable of.  Going to museums has the most fortunate effect of juicing up my own creativity and

dialing my inpiration up to 11.  

While it's true that yes, I do get an eyeful of pretty just by walking out my door -- hell, I get that eyefulwithout even leaving the house, truly, since I've tried to surround myself with pretty in my home -- still, there's something invaluable, something I've truly been missing, about going to museums, about sharing in the experience of public viewing.  Two weeks ago it was JP Gaultier who dazzled me.  Last week it was the Victorian Avant-Garde. Today it was frogs and baby ostriches and the gorgeous little aquarium displays that were just these lovely assembled tableaux of coral, shrimp + fish.  And the birds in the Rainforest today were just remarkable.  We stood and saw more tanagers of more insane color combinations than I'd ever seen then before.  Completely and utterly remarkable.

I'd lost touch with that, really, since having this particular j-o-b, and due to the one before, both of which took control of my time in a way which exceeds the 40-hour mark, which exceeds the bounds of what's reasonable and right for me.

And now I know it, and I can't go back to how things were before.

No, from here out, it's got to stay this way.  I have no choice but to go back to the j-o-b for as long as it takes me to figure out my exit strategy, how to make my living my staying put at home, working our farmlet, tending our bees, cultivating my words.  Until that time, though, it's up to me to ensure that the j-o-b remains tucked into a neat portion of my life and doesn't bleed out, doesn't extend its grabby tentacles beyond its sphere.  I've got to keep it in its place.

And I need to go to the museum minimum once a month.  There are so many to choose from that it shouldn't be hard to sustain that commitment to myself, to ensuring that I have regular opportunities to fill my eyes with beauty, with the product of other people's magic and keep my own artistic dial pegged at 11 as much as possible.  With all these riches that surround us, surely there's no excuse good enough to miss out -- no reason whatsoever why I shouldn't regularly be stuffing my eyes full of pretty.