As you can see early today I began the oil painting of Moon. I struggled with my self talk. My vision of modern verses traditional in both the atmosphere and clothing in the painting and my painting style battled. I worked through it. I forgot breakfast. I forgot Max who kindly let me be. My mind shifted from Brackman, to Dori and Dan. To Herman, Sarah and Judith. I moved through defending what I wanted to do before a list of imagined arguments from invisible teachers. I selected instinctively, weaving in the words, the movements, the lessons melding them with me. Ahh that scent of oil in the studio! This inexplicable feeling of all is right with the world; contentment. Merely fleeting till I step up to the easel again to address the elements, with a smile on my face.