I have not been the same since the eclipse last week. I stayed inside, though as I was working I kept looking out the window to see if there was any change in the light. There wasn’t much in New York, but you could feel the atmosphere changing. It wasn’t until I saw the photos and videos—specifically the ones where the moon completely covered the sun and there was a halo of light around the darkness, and then a light popped out…like a diamond ring, and something about that popped out at me too. Something went DING! So, in short, I’ve been playing out the DONG! part of the “ring” “tone”—this whole past week, hearing the 2nd part of the bell, ever since. The sound when the dinger comes back for the dong.

In this upswing, upsurge of energy we’re experiencing, everything seems magnified—because it is, actually. Positive as well as negative emotions come through in greater intensity, “flooding” the system in some cases…

But, since I am currently writing, i.e., my “current” is a highly focused stream of consciousness, (has been more or less for the past 20 years) I’ve learned the lesson of moderation. But, I’ve needed outside help, and thankfully it’s there on YouTube in the sounds of the sea and my favorite horn player. (Right now I’m staring at this screen, but listening to the screen on my right playing “Gentle ocean waves” while the tides roll in on a sandy beach in Wales…)

And what popped out at me most recently was this photo from 1980 when my “sitter” turned the tables on me. I was the portrait artist—he was the sitter. I was the one in charge of doing his picture. It was me giving the commands. Me holding the brush in one hand, the palette in the other, duplicating his form and presence. And how I gloried in it, this former actress who for years had been bossed around by her Directors—move here, now there, now say your line this way, and on and on… “Can you give it more *?#%!*” and so on and so forth, and I was happy to oblige because it was for the good of the ‘show.’ For the pleasure of the audience. And we were there to please/confront/explain/suggest/tease/titillate/entertain – and everything else you expect when you come to a ‘show.’ But I’d switched. Instead of being on the stage, I was behind the easel—watching you/them/the models/the sitters. And what a relief it was. “Don’t look at Me, let me look at You now…” And they did. And so, here I am/was, wearing a green tee-shirt with the word Freedom and in the middle was/is a cross. I’m not religious, and I’m not sure how I came by that shirt, but I know I liked Freedom blazing across the front. And if it came with a cross—Fine. I thought I was free now. In charge, and all that…

So along comes this man, this sitter, this man who also happened to be my teacher and gave a lot of talks sitting in one of those canvas Director’s chairs. And he had commissioned me to paint his portrait. When I said, “Can you bring your director’s chair? I’d like to paint you sitting in your chair,” it was no sooner said than done. Ah-ha! thought I. I’ve got the Director sitting in his director’s chair—in My studio, under My crystalline gaze. And I got on with my work, painting and painting away, when suddenly he pulls out his camera and starts clicking the shutter.

I ignored him and went on with my work. Men and their cameras! (&%#*$?+)

A few weeks later he gave me this 8×10 glossy. And all I could think of was Wow. Legs apart, feet firmly planted on the Floor, palette thrust in front of me, arm hidden behind the canvas, and me not looking to please him. Me, with focused passion and total commitment. What a gift he gave me. But then, his name was Gavin. I gave in to his giving. And he showed me this side of myself. Oh, Men and their cameras…and what they shoot… I can see it more clearly now, now that I’ve developed my own two lenses. With the help of my glasses. (“Four-eyes,” they used to call me –when they weren’t calling me “bug-eyes” or “pop-eyes.”)

Well, I’m glad I stuck around long enough to see the light pop out of the dark moon on a bright sunny day across the Americas.