Serendipity

"A child her wayward pencil drew 

On margins of her book;

Garlands of flower, dancing elves,

Bud, butterfly, and brook,

Lessons undone, and plum forgot,

Seeking with hand and heart

The teacher whom she learned to love

Before she knew t'was Art."

- Louisa May Alcott

Isn't that a most wonderful poem?  It describes me as a child so well.  I doodled on everything in sight, yet didn't realize my inner self at all.  The leaning was always there, but the ability to see it as more was not there until much later. 

I'm often asked "why" or "how" I got started in painting.  It's so hard to describe something that's been with you all your life, in every dusty corner, yet waiting patiently for you to follow the steady drumbeat to a real conclusion.  How can you describe your most inner impulses that seemingly come out of obscurity?   

Today serendipity and good fortune landed at my feet. . .I smiled at all that inner obscurity and "timeless knowing" and felt doubly sure that anything done with passion is done well, leaving me to reflect on my art making as giving my life a known destiny.