For Maria, being an artist is not something she does for a living, or one thing she does. The key to knowing her for me is understanding that being an artist is really who whole being, her identity. In an odd way, when she is not doing her art, she does not really exist.

It has been two or three weeks since Maria could be in her studio making her art. The Open House is rewarding and exciting, but it is also draining and exhausting, we both are spent when it is over. It sucks up our energy for the better part of a month altogether, planning things,moving things around, greeting and talking with people, this year the new work of selling things online.

It hits Maria harder than me, she organizes the art show, chooses the artists, handles the money, takes her studio apart and puts ti back together. Handling the money, paying the artists, keeping track of the sales, paying the taxes, accounting for each penny is demanding, and she is also deeply involved in planning for her trip to India early next year, it is not that far off.

Yesterday, we both realized we were suffering from psychic fatigue,  we ran off to Brattleboro for a night and it was a sweet trip, we love traveling together. It was also short, just a few hours, really.  But at times she was distant, she seemed uneasy. We came back today, and Maria began to unravel, she just got disoriented and upset.

I could feel that we were disconnected, as she gets when she has lost her identity, is not sure who she is, returns to another, more painful and loveless state. It was not a conflict, I do not take it personally, it had little to do with me.

We both knew what she needed to do. We fed the animals, and she said “I  have to get into the studio, I have to make something or I will go mad. I am going mad.” I know this drill, I’ve seen it before, Maria can’t go too long without creating, it simply unhinges her. I guess I’m the same way. I love our brief vacations, but if I am not writing, I am not really alive in my mind.  A major part of me just doesn’t really exist.

I let her alone for a few hours and then went to the studio to see how she was doing. The candles were lit, she was listening to Krishna Das chanting, her sewing machine and materials had been moved back  into the studio, it was operational again, if not completely put together.

Maria was on the floor, in the back, cutting materials. “A quilt?,” I asked. “Yes,” she said, beaming, “I’m starting a quilt.”

it felt so good, so right. We connected again, I sometimes think the most beautiful part of being in love is reconnecting. Life often pulls us apart a bit, it is natural, inevitable. Maria is an artist, all day every day.

I saw Maria’s bright smile, and she got up and came over to me. We danced to Krishna Das, I felt our souls touching one another again. She was back. She had returned to herself. She had returned to me.

I came back into the house to plan dinner. She would be working late tonight.