Aboard a transatlantic return flight I peer between the seats at a fellow passenger's computer screen. It asks, are you sure you want to quit? Take it out of context and this becomes a question that I carry with me every year to Hungary.
It is a place where I decided years ago to be a painter. Not to become a painter, but to explore being who I already am, which is to say someone who walks out to the field and orchard behind the house, who can sense an abundance that speaks of the closeness to nature, what and all we should ever want. It is a tree that blends into the earth.
If I didn't paint I would farm like my neighbors. They live and mix with the land and animals in a way that is dynamic and that breaks thru the surface. They dig into nature and cook from it. My son and daughter eat wild strawberries (szamoca) along their path. The windows to the house are closed during the day and open wide at night.
Quit what? Anything that does not make me free, anybody that is too small. Pursuing what does not matter. Enough, let this conversation be over for now.