Yesterday three different people sent pictures to me of my artwork in their homes. I can honestly say this is nothing short of thrilling. Truly. I will most likely never visit the home in Germany that has the original painting of my clock radio and coffee cup. Nor will I step foot into the house in Ireland where my painting of Gregory Peck hangs. But in a small way, I am there. I am next to the cause that you represent. Next to your son’s image, who has passed. In your daughter’s bedroom where she practices her dance.
We have the saying, “no strings attached” – meaning, I guess, a gift, a connection without obligation. This is good. We should always give without expectations of getting something in return. But I’m thinking how nice it would be if we could, in this spirit, still make the attachments, the connections. Still become a part of other peoples’ lives, with the tiniest of unassuming strings. Strings that reached out in compassion, interest, the pure joy of association, connection. And maybe those tiny strings could weave a web of empathy. Supporting us in the most difficult times. Raising us together in our times of celebration.
Today, I link each letter, each word, each sentence, with the hope they form the smallest (but strongest) of unassuming strings, and somehow, we attach.