My long-time friend Ruth Anne Wood is a Renaissance Woman. I initially met her in 1986 when she was a teen. My husband and her mother were friends and Catherine had brought her old-soul daughter to the home of another creative soul-friend named Ute Arnold. Ute’s gatherings included pot luck food, music, deep conversation, and poetry readings. We began referring to this precocious being as “Ruth the Poet,” because she was so inspired and inspiring in that realm. I have had the joy of witnessing her creative evolution as she is a coach, speaker, world traveler, teacher, and artist. Oh, and she is also a massage therapist who eases away stress and stiffness from my soon- to- be- 61-year-old body.
As my birthday was approaching (it is 10/13), she decided to put her talents to use as she “finger painted on white canvas acrylic paint and took pictures of the phase of the evolving painting and posted the progress in the comment section of Facebook along the way.” I watched over a period of days how it evolved into the work of he(art) that you see above.
When she presented it to me today, I was delighted to have a closer look at the elements portrayed and what they meant to me.
Lady Liberty: welcoming, a beacon of hope in the midst of darkness and despair, the first thing people see when entering the NY harbor (including my Russian immigrant forebears).
Mary Poppins: nurturing, colorful, magical, other-worldly, with a sense of order surrounding her whimsy.
Wonder Woman: (although this image looks more like a ‘wild woman, dancing and flinging her head back as she flings her Lasso of Truth in the air) powerful, standing her ground, not intimidated, a world changer, defending the voiceless and disenfranchised.
The Kayaker: I know Ruth is often guided by intuition, but as I was telling her today, this image was more than serendipitous. Maybe 10 years ago, on the 4th of July weekend, I had been visiting a friend in Long Island to edit her book. This woman was also a tri-athlete and a fitness trainer and at least 10 years younger. She asked if I wanted to go kayaking with her on the bay. I was game for it. Climbing into my little vessel, I followed her out into the middle, huffing and puffing since, Type A+ personality that I embodied back then, I thought I had to keep up with her. Asthma got the upper hand as I kept paddling. She looked over at me and wagged her finger, reminding me that it was not a competition and I should slow my pace. I reluctantly agreed and brought the kayak to a full stop. I caught my breath and sat back to enjoy the beautiful early July day turning my face to the sun. At that moment, as if by unseen hands, the kayak turned over and I was dumped into the water. One of the oars and one of my water shoes floated away as I came up sputtering. I didn’t panic since I could swim; having been on a swim team from ages 11-18 and then became a lifeguard who coached a swim team for three years after that. I was more embarrassed than anything else. We laughed, as she collected the wayward oar and shoe and then said, “Okay, let’s get you back in the boat.” I attempted to do it solo and she insisted on assisting. My response was that I would hold on to the overturned kayak and kick my way back, rather than risk dumping her over. She replied, “It’s a quarter-mile to shore. We’re going to do this.” And after a few attempts, we did. I rested, enjoyed dinner and was able to absorb the message that I need not push excessively and that Spirit has a great sense of humor.
On the way home, I had a Wonder Woman encounter as I was about to get onto the George Washington Bridge. I saw a car sideswipe an armored truck, which caused it to skid to the side and jump up onto a railing that hovered over a 50 foot or more drop to the street below. Horrified, I held out my hand and shouted with all my might “NO!” At that moment, I watched, astonished as the truck balanced on two wheels and then landed safely on the side of the road. The three men climbed out and one reached for the gun in its holster. “Whoa”, I called out and reminded him that they were safe and he need not draw his gun. My heart was already racing, without that to step it up. At that moment, I was certain that perhaps the same unseen hand that was in the water with me earlier had brought them from the edge of the precipice.
May I see this painting as a reminder of all I am and all I can evolve to be.
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Have you read the original anthology that was the catalyst for The Good Men Project? Buy here: The Good Men Project: Real Stories from the Front Lines of Modern Manhood
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Talk to you soon.
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