|Palimpsest art by Marie-Therese Wisniowski.|
My ruminant tendencies are heightened in the middle of some nights. They may be prompted by dreams or, more likely, result from a sudden awakening that leaves me vulnerable to previously unrealized possibilities. I have sanded and scraped away bits of 28 years in two marriages, the first begun when I was 18, and even through gesso and acrylic washes, decades of becoming, I find those younger selves waiting, looking to me for enlightenment. In a palimpsest, what had been recorded is not quite here, not quite gone. I observe with eyes either more knowing or more kind. The boys/men benefit from these gauzy revisits, as though some of what has been eroded is a hardness of heart in response to pain. There is greater forgiveness for all that I could not have known, appreciation for being not only still here, but softened rather than steeled. Blame and fault grow more faint on the page. Where the words can't be decoded, they appear as dots and blotches. Love's great speckled egg.