Getting lost is getting found

First to update the air is fixed. AHHHHHH!

I just got off the phone with a friend only because our ears were hurting. Our conversations revolved around art. Which everyone who knows me knows I like getting 'lost' in that conversation and will leave the yawners behind in my dust. lol. It is my 'bliss'. "It" meaning art has been the ONLY consistant thing in my life. So many times it's been pushed aside, buried deep, and insulted It's always found a way to seep out. Whether it'd be in words, great food, gardening, drawing, glasswork, photography or just plain ideas 'It' finds a release. If 'It' isn't released It consumes.

There are those amongst my family and friends that keep telling themselves they don't have any talent. They can't draw, paint, or create like I do. No you can't! Just in the same way I can't draw, paint or create like YOU do. We all have our talents, we really know what they are; we've just chosen to ignore them or martyr them to those we entrust with our love, conditionally, or have placed aside for one reason or another. As with everything else, the old saying goes, it takes practice to make it perfect. So no one will be perfect from the beginning, where would they have to go from there? Though something may seem only temporary, when it touches someone else's soul it's lived eternally.

I love getting 'lost' in museums and art. That is my sanctuary, that is where I find spirit, that is where even a mere rough sketch touches me with the humility that the great ones were human just like me. It is where they tell me to keep creating, keep learning, and be 'found' in my true nature of spirit. Just keep doing it. So I hope that when you find yourself losing time in something you do, you enjoy getting found.

Sounds of Summer

My air conditioning was out when I got home from work yesterday so I turned it off and called the landlord. Well supposedly they tried to call me during this horrendous storm that rolled right over my apartment this afternoon. It shook the rafters where my bedroom is. The only reason I know that they called is I called my landlord to let them know they hadn't shown all day. He called me right back; they claimed my phone went straight to voice mail. Well I have no messages; but either way I should see them tomorrow morning at 8:30. Just in time to leave for work. Lucky me.

I will say last night wasn't bad. The crickets were singing and there was a light breeze. During the heat of the day I found myself prostrate infront of a fan. The storm offered a wonderful, but short lived relief. My boss was reminding me there was a few emails she couldn't get to because she was busy...I told her I'd be in tomorrow...just late.

The ice machine and water dispenser in my refrigerator has become my best friend; as visions of my mother draping a wet towel around her neck zipped in my mind. No I've not done that...yet. But the early evening is upon us and hopefully a breeze will start along with the evening songs.

Summer writings

Prelude to summer
The crickets sing lullabyes
Whirring in a fan


Into the night sky
How many wishes are caught
In a million stars


Grass

It;s green sings a song
With the cadence of the bugs
Between the soft blades


Waiting
In the vestibule of summer
Where memories swirl
in kaleidoscope patterns
Caught on a breeze
In a flowers scent...the cicadas song
and the warmth of the sun
Where movement creates ripples
In the reflective pool.


Dance upon my soul
With lyrics so soft and true
The kissing moonbeams


Never assume it
Love needs constant attention
Now call your mother

Crumbs..

I woke up this morning thinking of my mother. I do miss her often, and occasionally dream of her. On her birthdays I'll light a candle and for Mada's birthday in 04 - during the moments in exile - I visited my mothers grave which I hadn't been to since her death

I recalled this morning the crumbs I threw to my mother in the lack of appreciation of the life she gave me. Hardley acknowledging her birthday, mothers day, etc; she accepted the crumbs I gave her as the best way I knew how to love her.

There are lots of moments; and I believe with the 2x4 of this insight, there will be more then one in the recognizing the things she would've loved to have shared should she be alive. Alas but I will settle for her spirit and celebrate it with the love I do have for her.

I remember a long time ago I dreamt we went antiquing in what used to be her brothers house that had been turned into an antique store. We had a wonderful day walking to the store down Big Brook Road in the golden sun of the summer afternoon of Indian Lake New York. In the store we loved this really ostentasious antique wrought iron lamp with a burgundy jaquard print red long fringed lamp shade. We joked about how it looked like it belonged in a bordello but loved it for our own reasons the same. So one day when I see that funky lamp in a store I will purchase it; and use it to read by and have long conversations with her. Also telling her how much I love her.

Love...unconditionally

Many times I've personally questioned of the validity of God, as has everyone. All around I see those questions taking shape in many ways; some more profound in the angst of their creation then others. Every day I see new directions we all go in order to find the answer that appeases our mortal soul. No, I've not found 'the answer' though I'll constantly express the need to learn more to understand more. I have learned a valuable lesson on asking for patience or tolerance.

A friend told me recently; " When we pray for patience-we get more testing to learn the lesson. Now, that has been a tough one for me. Now my thoughts and prayers center on accepting (ouch, help) that it is as God would have it be for now." Thank you for your words dear friend. That certainly sheds a whole new light into that old perspective.

What I have come to understand, most profoundly expressed through my dearly departed daughter Mada, is the truth of unconditional love. The purity. In the dramas we create in our lives who could achieve such high focus on this truth but her. In her deep faith the base ingredient for EVERYONE is love. No matter what. How we stand by that is our individual choice.

To Dance in the Light of the Sun

Its rays
Caressing
Absorbing
the air
like a sponge
Bursting radiance
Through each pore
love

May we all find our peace in love...unconditionally

Ode to the change of seasons

Summer in all it's glory is here as of yesterday with the dawn of Summer Solstice. The longest day of the year. Here's a view of the Greek myth story of the seasons read by the 1st person:

(FORWARD NOTE: Unfortunately I did not create this but found it on the web, as much as I'd love to have the credit I cannot claim it. Thank you)

I smiled at my mother and we walked arm in arm through the field to a small house. There my mother served me dinner and we talked about everything. After dinner she brushed my hair and braided it with such care and tenderness. As we lay in the straw-made bed, she stroked my brow until I fell asleep. The next morning, when I awoke, my mother made me a feast for breakfast. Personally, I am not a big breakfast person, but it was not my body so why not pig out. When I thought I would pop out of my clothes, I stopped eating. We decided that I would go play and that she would go run some errands. She said that Zeus wanted to see her. I headed off to the fields and played with butterflies and rabbits that lived there. I was enjoying myself when the ground started to shake. I knew exactly what was going on. I screamed, “Earthquake!” and fell to the ground. About that time the earth opened up, a chariot with black horses galloped near me, and the driver, with a cunning smile, grabbed me around the waist and held me close to his body. As quick as he appeared, we were gone. I watched as the hole closed and the sun and flowers became only a memory. Now I was in darkness. We rode as I watched the lava and fire shoot up around us. The hands of the less fortunate reached up at us as their cries echoed. I was very frightened by all that I saw. I made a mental note that there was no way I was going to hell when I returned to my world. This image would be stuck in my mind forever. The chariot finally stopped and the driver let me go. I stepped back from him and stared. His body was muscular and he wore a crown upon his head. His eyes were cold and hard. He spoke to me saying, “I am Hades, King of the Underworld and brother of Zeus. I have brought you here to be my wife, my queen. You will spend all your days as my companion. You will love me as I already love you.” Was he serious? I had heard of a quick engagement, but this was way too quick for me. I told him that I wanted my mother and begged him to send me home. He denied my request and grabbed me by the wrist. I cringed in pain and he let me go, apologizing for causing me pain. He asked me to follow him and I obliged. We entered a room filled with food. I was extremely hungry, but I refused to eat what he provided. He ate right in front of me. That was a little rude. So that night he tried to fool around. I was not about to mess around with him, so I told him no, that I was not ready. I was shocked when he relented, but grateful at the same time. The days passed and I explored my new home. I was beginning to think that I would never leave. Each day I refused to eat and each night I refused his advances. Just when I thought all hope was lost, Hermes showed up and told my husband that I was to return to my mother in the world above. Boy, was I happy because I could finally eat!! I learned from Hermes that my mother had caused total desolation of the Earth in protest. She would not relent until I was returned to her. Before I left my husband offered me a pomegranate. At first I refused, but he would not let me leave till I did. I ate only a little before leaving with swift Hermes. The sun hurt my eyes when I reached the surface. When they adjusted I saw my mother. We ran to each other with tears in our eyes. We embraced. Then she asked me the strangest question. She wanted to know if I had eaten anything while I was with Hades. I told her no at first, but then revealed that I had eaten some of a pomegranate. She closed her eyes and told me that I was bound to Hades because I had eaten some of the pomegranate. So, for six months I am happy and cheerful with my mother and the land blossoms and is plentiful. For the other six months I am with Hades in hell watching the lava boil over the souls of the forgotten. I was so disappointed at the news, but I tried to make the best of my days with my mother. I would go and play in the fields each day and she would keep me under a watchfull eye. One day I was running through the fields chasing after a little butterfly with wings of gold when I tripped and fell. Screaming, I closed my eyes. When I landed I realized how hard the ground felt. I opened my eyes and found nothing, but my desolate cave full of enchanting mysteries

Tired of Speaking Sweetly

Love wants to reach out and manhandle us,
Break all our teacup talk of God.

If you had the courage and
Could give the Beloved His choice, some nights,
He would just drag you around the room
By your hair,
Ripping from your grip all those toys in the world
That bring you NO joy.

Love sometimes gets tired of speaking sweetly
And wants to rip to shreds
All your erroneous notions of truth

That make you fight within yourself, dear one,
And with others,

Causing the world to weep
On too many fine days.

God wants to manhandle us,
Lock us inside of a tiny room with Himself
And practice His dropkick.

The Beloved sometimes wants
To do us a great favor:

Hold us upside down
And shake all the nonsense out

But when we hear
He is in such a "playful drunken mood."

Most everyone I know
Quickly packs their bags and hightails it
Out of town


A poem written by Hafiz, a great Sufi master (c.1320-1389), a most beloved poet of Persia. Classic words reach through the centuries to our hearts today. Couldn't have said it better myself.

Taylor has graced our world!

Taylor Marie Holiday

Isn't she pretty?

Perceptions

Ones realities
As an image from with in
Is all perception 8-10-05

It is what we choose to let ourselves see or be blinded with. It is with those choices that we affect those we think we love, those we know we love and those we think we hate and those we don't know.

Boiled in drama
In our lives if we so choose
Steeped to a fine tea 8-11-05

I've been placed in a road to decide should I go into someone elses' dramas or tea so to speak to see the light that was created as a destiny. I know if I were to go in alone anything and every move I make would not only be scrutinized but twisted. I know in my heart dna is there. Those wishes we share are there and the ripple of the heavy stone that's been thrown will continue. Has the actual patterns been broken? Or have they just been given a different route with a similarly painful outcome? Only time will tell. I will end this with 2 haiku's I created on the 15th of June 2006.

Histrionic release
Recapitulating
Another lesson

or in other words:

Excessive drama
Handing down seeds of doubt
Another lesson

I had to look up words which of course became truth. Unfortunately.
Histrionics means excessivly dramatic while recapitulating means to appear to repeat the evolutionary stages of the species during the embryonic developement of the individual organism. It is within these words choices have been made. I prefer my tea sweet, not bitter.

Signs 101

"One could open a book to any page, or look at a person's hand; one could turn a card, or watch the flight of birds...whatever the thing observed, one could find a connection with his experience of the moment. Actually it wasn't that those things, in themselves, revealed anything at all; it was just that people, looking at what was occurring around them, could find a means of penetration to the Soul of the World."
Page 101 of The Alchemist

Almost symbolic in the placement in the book. Signs 101.

"No matter what he does, every person on earth plays a central role in the history of the world and he doesn't even know it." page 159/159 The Alchemist

Baby Boo is born...

Taylor Marie Holiday has graced us with her presence Monday June 12th, 2006 at 12:45pm. She came into this world weighing 5 pounds 13 ounzes and is 18 inches long with lots of hair. According to her mother she has long toes. Little Monkey Toes. As soon as pictures are forthcoming one will be posted. I will be going to meet the young thing next Wednesday so for 2 weeks. I had a large profound liturgy in mind to write but couldn't top the miracle of birth. Love to all in the celebration of a new life.

Nancy

Finding honesty....

A call for honesty can only be but a lie. For honesty is but an individuals perception borne on their individual thoughts compounding into a truth known only unto them. So in all fairness I cannot give what is to be perceived to be anything other then a frank opinion. 6/12/05

It's been a year and along with that insight of honesty I asked for understanding of truth. As serendipity would have it I stumbled upon a word; verisimilitude. It means to have the appearance of truth. Much like our politicians do. Sad but ironicly true. I was also given the opportunity of opening my heart. I did and learned. And carry that pearl with the love it was presented to me. Here's the beginning of my understanding;

Versmilitude
Wears truth like a mask
Does the truth become a lie
When details are omitted?
When does it turn 'white'?
When the omission is to 'save' the feelings of the other?
It all washes out in the end
And those honest, ommited truths known only to one seep in
Wrecking havoc
Understanding dawns
Integrity gets lost
Amongst the chaos in the emotional battlegrounds
That turned an imagined reality into dust
Creating a desert
Yet again.

How beautiful the desert does bloom. Though the seasons and dunes change the desert never does. It stands in it's integrity.

A little something on integrity. It means:

Steadfast adherence to a strict moral or ethical code.
The state of being unimpaired; soundness.
The quality or condition of being whole or undivided; completeness.

It is pure. There is no preconditioning, reconditioning, or euphamism to replace it. It is. As long as one can act from that intention they are strong.

Where all souls meet....

Dive into one's soul
Where the still waters run deep
Past the broken dreams
Where soul and stars meet
Where time is but a shadow
And you yourself meet (seek)
Through the promises
Even those we didn't keep
Past the rich landscape
That made us today
Deeper into the unknown
Where the soul still weeps
Throughout life and death
Our tapestry we weave
To (a place) where all souls meet

Ki....

In the dolphins play
The bloom of a purple rose
She said goodbye

Happy birthday darling girl. I know the darkness that shrouds those of us in this moment as though it was yesterday. Sometimes it still feels like it. Thank you for sharing your divine spirit with us and even leaving a little bit behind. Your love will be remembered.

Love Aunt Nancy

Mirror...mirror

How many faces
Reflected the past
Reminding me
Of what has gone
Like living ghosts
Saying goodbye
To what was
As not longer is
Or will be
Pieces that are gone
Habits that have been tried
Bringing me here
Today
4/7/06

Often I am reminded of the depths of reflections. Those that we chose as friends are but a reflection of us in some way. Those that anger us reflect a negative side of us that we don't like. That's what I've heard. So now when I find myself reacting in a negative manner I look within to see where that came from. See where that past hurt was and heal it. Acknowledge it and move on. On the flip side I'm learning to acknowledge and accept the gift of richness some compliment me with: "you're the smartest person I know", "you're a wise woman". Those are truths these people have in them reflecting through me.
Is this part of the circle in the power of words? What you say to a person reflects you and them? Your thoughts and feedback is welcome. Namaste

The Power of Conversation

Words do not label things already there. Words are like the knife of a carver; They free the idea, the thing, from the general formlessness of the outside. As a man speaks, not only is hs language in a state of birth, but also the very thing about which he is talking.

Inuit Wisdom. (a general term for a group of culturally similar indigenous peoples inhabiting the Arctic coasts of Siberia, Alaska, the Northwest Territories, Nunavut, Quebec, Labrador and Greenland (see Eskimo)
page 205 in The Soul of Money

The power of one's word or thoughts provokes the energies into creating one's next minute, next hour, next year. Faith in those dimensions can inhibit or empower.

"I told you that was never going to work" is faith inhibiting.

"I knew you could do that" is empowering.

It isn't that simple? Why not? Doesn't even Jesus speak about the faith of a child.

One's thought is but a pebble, which creates ripples. Thought provoking, or is it provoking thought? Just the two words changed creates different dynamics.

Ones realities
As an image from within
Is all perception

Reflections:

The following has been taken from the Prologue of The Alchemist.

The alchemist knew the legend of Narcissus, a youth wo knelt daily beside a lake to comtemplate his own beauty. He was so fascinated by himself that, one morning, he fell into the lake and drowned. At the spot where he fell, a flower was born, which was called the narcissus.

But this was not how the author of the book, the alchemist had picked up, had ended the story.

He said that when Narcissus died, the goddesses of the forest appeared and found the lake, which had been fresh water, transformed into a lake of salty tears.

"Why do you weep?" the goddesses asked.

"I weep for Narcissuss," the lake replied.

"Ah, it is no surprise that you weep for Narcissus," they said, "for though we always pursued him in the forest, you alone could contemplate his beauty close at hand."

"But...was Narcissus beautiful?" the lake asked.

"Who better then you to know that?" the goddesses said in wonder. "After all, it was by your banks that he knelt each day to contemplate himself!"

The lake was silent for some time. Finally, it said;

"I weep for Narcissus, but I never noticed that Narcissus was beautiful. I weep because, each time he knelt beside my banks, I could see, in the depths of his eyes, my own beauty reflected."

"What a lovely story." the alchemist thought.

And that's only the beginning. This book is a jewel on perception. We all look at things differently as I've been complimented and accused of; for which I'm grateful. What world are we creating in our eyes? What are we reflecting back out into the world? With this short one I'll leave with a haiku:

Our imperfections
Like the snowflake in winter
Shines through each of us

Isn't she exquisite?!

A toast to the groom.

It's already been a year. Unfortunately I don't have many photos as MJ can't find the cd. hint hint. The one of the girls dancing is a good one as it was a year ago today Brianne celebrated her anniversary and a year ago tomorrow Brittany celebrates her anniversary. My how our children have grown. (Brittany rather in a literal sense as well; since she's about to have a baby girl). I'm so looking forward to it. Will go back to the philosophical discussions tomorrow. Love to all. Nance

The power of a single word

I've been informed by my neice Savannah today this blog needs to be updated. Ok. So here it is. A new entry, a new day. Now I do expect to get an email with hers so we can keep track on her. (hint hint)

I shared a meal with a friend today and we spoke of many things. Changes in paradigm's, spirituality, metephysics, attitudes, strong people we admire, dreams and realities (most certainly those two don't always meet). She commented on how a lot of my art pieces are single names: Water, Americana, Night, Day, etc...(yes eventually pictures of these will appear; maybe even miraculously), but the power in a word can say so much and create so much in one's mind. Food for thought. Oh and the above picture; that's Americana