the lesson of the ant

(Yes...3 posts today...read slow...it may be a while before the next one.) last week, on the phone with the gallery owner where my March show will be, as i bemoaned the fact that my collage work had more suck-wattage per square inch, and with all respect she must be blind or an incredibly compassionate idiot to schedule a show with my work in it, yes, while on the phone with below-zero temperatures outside, in the dead of winter, i turned to look at my ipod for some reason and saw it: an ant. an ANT. and i stopped my ugly-cry, snot-dripping rant/mea maxima culpa and said, "What The Hell...an ANT. in my studio." this must be a sign. so i grabbed my Animal Spirit Guides book to tremulously look up Ant, figuring it must be a sign that seeing an ant tells you to trust your instinct, put down the art materials and go work in a factory somewhere hitting the same nail with the same hammer all day every day, thus leaving choices and options and creativity to those better equipped to deal with a difficult life. all that. but no...it says (and i quote): "It's time to get to work on that project that you've been thinking about and see it through to completion. seek support from your closest friends and family rather than isolating yourself. trust that you'll succeed in accomplishing your dreams. (Can I get a witness) (my interjection in parenthesis). be patient with yourself, those around you, and with any work projects with which you're involved." Jesus, Mary and the Jetsons...holy moly. so i wiped the snot off my face, hung up on Sweet Caroleena, and went back to the studio, reinvigorated, and trusting that God would not allow me to humiliate myself in such a public way. again. although my daily life is pretty much for the amusement of Someone, i had confidence from this ant that this would not be an occasion to fuck with me. fast forward a week. it is today. i am up to my armpits in alligators, all snapping at my confidence today...i am wishing for a hole to open in the earth on the exact spot where i stand so i can just sink into the lava and be done done done with the torment of thinking i can pull this show off. and...a little ant creeps up to my Vat Orange wash on my paper palette and maybe is going to drink a little. NO! i say. and try to save him from certain death. he is my last hope, is how critically close to that place where one minute you're painting, the next you're talking to ants and toasters and putting tinfoil over your windows. and i rush into the bathroom and get a dixie cup of water. trying to think quick - i need to divert him, yet not drown him. i put a drop of clean water on the worktable and scooch him toward it. he sticks his little nose thing in it, drinks a little, cleans his legs and antennae, then starts walking away...leaving a little trail of vat Orange behind him. a reminder. and after all we have been through, i may have accidentally NOT ON PURPOSE i swear, accidentally knocked him onto the floor after he crawled off the table and onto my shirt. i don't know for sure, i was moving fast and painting and schmutzing this about. but he disappeared. so i wonder if he'll take back all that encouragement? like, he'll be all "what the hell?? i came here to help, and you take what you need from me and slam me 20 stories to the ground?" perhaps i'm reading into this a little too much.