Motek walked by with his human companion, a woman I’ve referenced in several previous posts - the one who loved my song, Salaam/Shalom that I sang for the Iranian family before they moved, who stood opposite me as I sang it as it was still in its birthing phase.
Motek is a fluffy dog with yellow-white fur and he’s rather old. Motek means “Sweetheart,” or “Honey” in Hebrew.
Today Motek’s mom observed, “You are like a pixie. You remind me of an angel.” She observed the chalk I wrote on the sidewalk. “Love is the answer,” she called to me as she went on her way, limping a bit.
She may have even walked walked by the house up the street that has the sign that says, “Save Gaza,” in whose driveway I chalked, “Salaam. Shalom. Peace.”
I also intersected with my neighbor Callie on her bike, bringing her young child home from school. We talked about sparkly backpacks. Her daughter said they got it at Target. Her mom corrected her that they got it from Pottery Barn. “Black Rock probably owns them both,” I said cynically. But I made a promise to myself back in college to never become a cynic. So I brightened the comment with reminding us that we can all be unicorns, taking in life and farting out rainbow gas that births stars.
How do we hold space for all of it? Tenderly.
I also walked passed my neighbor who is flying the peace flag for me currently, as he was preparing his canoe to take out on the water. “I’m getting ready to go to my happy place,” he told me when I asked how he was doing. I have felt ultra fatigued the last few days and all I could say when he asked how I am was, “sleepy.” Still, after a walk around the block, when I saw his canoe astride his vehicle, I found the energy to ask if he had ever painted on the water. No, he told, me, but that would be lovely. He imagined painting on a floating dock. I asked if he was planning on showing us his work any time soon, as I know he is painting again. Years ago I gave him some canvases when I knew he was an artist who had stopped painting and had wanted to start again but didn’t quite to know to get from starting the engine to pressing the gas pedal. Later, a client of his gave him a paint by numbers canvas, which he started with, and then, a year later, he informed me he’d started painting a bird on one of the small canvases I’d given him and had mapped out birds for each one. “No,” he said with a smile, to my question as to whether I might see his work of late sometime soon. I rejoined, “What about when you move - when you retire or you and your wife travel around the world or whatever…then can we see what you’ve done all these years?”
“Yes.” I laughed and said, “Okay, before y’all move, we’ll have a party and you can show your work.” He nodded and smiled, and asked, “What about you?”
“I have actually done a new piece. It’s pretty minimalist. I’ll show it to you sometime if you want.”
Art