16x20" oil on canvas NFS
If you’ve been a follower of my blog over the last few years, you may
have surmised that my feet are not at all planted firmly on solid
ground. Admittedly and happily, I am not at all convinced that what we
see is exactly what we are. And given the recent quantum physics theories of time being an illusion and form becoming solid only when our
eyes rest on it, I’m feeling pretty confident that when we all wake up,
“life” will have been a sometimes joyful, sometimes terrifying
self-imposed dream.
With that planted firmly in mind, it is my
pleasure to announce that the portrait above was painted as a Christmas
gift for a dog. A dog I’ve never met, at least not in person. Her name
is Tweedles. Tweedles has a blog:
http://tweedles-georgie.blogspot.com/. I am a follower of her blog.
Admittedly, spending every single waking and sleeping moment with our
two pug pups, Blu and Raz Berry (who both have a crush on Tweedles by
the way), has had a profound effect on me. I am, as Oliva Newton John
warbled to John Travolta in Grease, hopelessly devoted. I enjoy just
watching them exist. That said, I believe even if I didn’t have the
pleasure and joy of being a pug pet parent, I would still be head over
heels in love with Tweedles.
Maybe it’s the wide eyed innocence
of her poems along with her belief that we are all—including the
critters, trees, air and oceans of the world—entitled to love,
compassion, care and respect. Maybe it’s knowing that whenever I
visit Tweedles blog I will come away with a smile, even if news of one
of her close friends crossing the rainbow bridge is the topic of her
post that day. She has a way of putting everything into
perspective, of conveying that even though she’s sad sometimes, in the
end, everything is and always will be fine, no matter what appears to be
going on in the outside world. And, it ain’t just moi! Miss Tweedles
gets more comments left by admirers than I could ever hope to, so
clearly, I’m not alone in my admiration.
To be sure though,
himself is a tad wary. He’s fully aware of my cosmic muffin tendencies
but reading a pup authored blog and writing emails to a dog—even if she
is a pug— has earned me more than a few raised eyebrows and curious
glances. He was even prompted to ask recently, somewhat tongue-in-cheek
one hopes, if I was indeed aware that, in reality, I was communicating
with a person and not a dog. He does get points however, for following
that rather cheeky comment with:
“That’s one of the reasons I love you. You have the ability to write emails to a dog and fully believe you’re communicating with
her!”
Ummm, thanks...I think! I was a bit startled by his
statement and when I replied, “Of course I do!” I wasn’t lying. I mean I
know that Tweedles mom writes the poems but for some reason it’s easy
for me to make the leap of faith that indeed, those words spring
directly from the eternally innocent mind of Tweedles herself! Mom only
types them in for her. Again, in my defense, spending each and every day
with the boys might well be a contributing factor in my ability to
overlook any human complicity in Tweedles communications, there is a
definite freedom in interacting with another species. There's a certain
fearlessness I don’t experience when interacting with homo sapiens. Not
even himself!
When getting to know humans through emails I always
break out into a sweat while typing. There’s the ego-based need to
appear clever, cool, interesting, intriguing. The worry that I’ve
revealed too much (that ship's pretty much sailed hasn't it), or said something amiss. In an effort to be cute have I
clumsily scoffed at some deeply held belief? Even now I somewhat
anxiously await a reply from a colleague hoping I haven’t revealed a
truth that put them off.
This never happens with Tweedles. I can
tell her how much I love her, how happy her posts make me and how
adorable she looks in her pumpkin hat without fear of rejection or
judgment.
I can read her poems and feel hope for the future. I can even
believe that she is indeed the author of said poems without any fear of
reproach or ridicule.
But then, maybe it’s just me. I am a bit
left of center and a tad idealistic. I never did understand why Rodney
King’s plea of “Why can’t we all just get along?” became a world weary
punch line for cynics and sitcoms.
Imagine for just a second what life
would be like if we could. Miss Tweedles does...with every single post.
Yeah, I know. You’re
due back on planet earth. Thanks for stopping by and I hope you all have a wonderful weekend.
