I'm reading my son's art history book from his senior year at Harvard; The Story of Art. It's a slim book by E.H. Gomrich. After many years of enjoying and making art I revel in in his ability to effortlessly, beautifully and seamlessly pulls together the arc of creativity over 10,000 years. If the lines are bold - likely Italian masters. If the surface is miraculously detailed - northern and likely Flemish. He is an old soul and his threads are carefully crafted from a life of observation and inspection. I read this and pour over the color plates and feel a spiritual rush; all things are explained. All things make sense.
And this is how I see my life evolving. Art, science, teaching, curiosity, passion, advocacy, creative restlessness are coming to this place at this time. I get to choose. I get to make the decision about what to do next. In the past I've given this choice away. However painful the responsibility may feel - and the pain is palpable - the ability to choose feels safer than delegation.
A long time ago, someone pointed out that the pain I was experiencing was the result of a mis-match in my values with the organization around me. This seemed a frivolous detail. Now I understand it is the central issue.
If this appears to be an oblique rant - apologies to the dear reader. If there is any up-side to aging, and worn out knees, the inability to drink wine easily, forgetfulness are a few of the multiplying downsides, it is the ability to see the whole. And I wonder if that is the real religion, seeing the whole when we spend so much of our lives in a state of self-made disconnectedness.