Introducing my painting:
"My Mountain. (Houston, TX.)"

4.18.2008

When the towers fell on 9/11 I was watching as the newscaster interviewed someone who lived in NYC.  As he talked about his traumatic experiences, he began explaining what the buildings meant to him.  About how they were this subtly integral part of his daily life.  And now, without them, he felt a strange sense of mourning.  He described them as his "mountains".  Something he thought would always be there.  Something so familiar that he gazed upon as he walked through the beautiful in-between moments of his everyday life.  Now all he could see every time he looked up was a shockingly empty space.

For some reason this has always stayed with me.  It's sort of silly that that is the interview that I remember most from all of that, but there is something so true about it.  There are so many mountains that we encounter every single day that we think are immoveable and unchangeable. Whether it be the beauty of the place you live- the buildings, the flowers, the trees,  or the joy of encountering the people you love and talk to everyday- these are our mountains.   And somehow it's rather easy to get to the point that we don't even see them anymore- forging ahead busy and blind. It's easy to take things for granted until the day that your mountain moves and all you can think about is how much you would love to have it back for just one more day.  May we all remember that mountains move.

Every good and perfect gift is from above, 
coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, 
who does not change like shifting shadows. 
-The Bible, James 1:17

See this painting in progress here.

Detail of the painting.