Upon opening one's eyes.

From bed this morning, I noticed the painting on the wall. Like never before. More fully. I was drawn into the scene. A couple walking a dog. Along a beach. In Skagen. In the north of Denmark. By a Norwegian-Danish artist of the late 19th century, Peder Severin Kroyer. Anyway, I was captivated. Mesmerized. Kroyer has been dead since 1909. But he was talking to me. Telling me that life is wonderful. Of course, I've known it for quite a while. But it was nice to hear Kroyer tell me. Personally. That he, too, appreciated life. To paint. To leave a legacy. His many paintings. That continue to speak. His words. His thoughts. He was living his now. And he captured now. So that his now would live forever. My Italian true love visited Skagen several years ago. Walked the same beach that Kroyer walked. And bought a print of the painting. Because she liked it. It spoke to her, too. And she's framed the print. Nicely. In the same light color reflected from the midnight sun bouncing off the water. I told her of the effect that painting was having on me. A romantic idealist. And that her choice of the painting told me a lot about her. About the art that she appreciates. And how I have become aware that I am in love. With her. With life. With the painting. And that it has made me more aware of the Skagen art colony that thrived from 1870 to the early 1900s. Because the artists fell in love. With a place. With the unusal soft and dazzling lighting along the far northern Danish coast. I first glimpsed the painting when conversing with my friend on Skype (an audio/video hook-up) three years ago. It hung on a wall behind a sofa in her study. And I've been looking at the painting for three weeks in the bedroom. Without fully seeing it. Until this morning. Amazing. What happens. When one opens his eyes. And truly sees. --Jim Broede