Changes

I spent the morning looking at Jess's new work, one tiny detail of which is here. He was incredibly productive during those months in Washington: about fifty oils, hundreds of watercolors, possibly a thousand drawings. "I felt like I was doing what I came here to do," he said.

I remembered what a poet told me, back when I was an undergraduate English major. "Whatever you do, if you want to write, don't teach. Be a butcher if you have to, but don't teach. Teaching will eat up all your creativity, suck you dry, chew up your soul, and spit you out."  I wasn't qualified to be a butcher. So I taught. And I found that what the poet told me was true. I also found that teaching is an art. But it's very difficult to practice two arts at the same time. I'm glad Jess had six months of freedom from teaching. I hope he finds a way to go on doing what he came to do.

I left Jess to go have coffee with Jude, with hardly a pause in the conversation. Jude is asking herself how she can teach fewer art classes and make more art, how she can change her life and meet more of her deepest needs. To start with, she got a haircut. (For her old look, see December.) She says she's now busy reviewing her "requirements"--that list of things she thinks she cannot live without. She's trying to see if she can eliminate some of those requirements and give herself more freedom for the work she loves to do. I love the lift in her shoulders, the dignity in her hope.

I love having friends who ask themselves the same questions I've asked myself throughout most of my life. The territory is so familiar.