Anam Cara

The title is Gaelic for soul friend. Those who surpass the boundries of time to be together. I'm blessed to have several; MJ, Terri, and Dori as the core. (TerryM you're one too).

MJ, Terri and I went kayaking Saturday morning. I was browbeat into it and had NO way out. With the love and understanding of true friends I thoroughly enjoyed it. Man I want a kayak, and paddle now! It was sooo peaceful. I actually saw the beauty in saw palmettos and palm trees. To me it looked like a Thomas Cole (Hudson Valley School of art in the turn of the last century) painting. It wasn't hard to do either. Well, despite fighting current on the way back was a bit trickier but so worth it.

While we were out there MJ commented on how some people are just dazed and amazed how we've been close friends for such a long time when she brings us up in conversation. Not to mention that not one of us is from this area but we all moved here (still one missing TerryM), to be close to each other. We've become our 'chosen families'. Terri, said quite plainly 'it was fate'.

Thank you girls for shoving me through another door. I look forward to more adventures.

Baby Taylor's Photos

Is this a sweet little baby girl or what?! Look at those baby blues and auburn hair. Wonder where she gets those?! Oh I could kiss her fingers, toes, chin, elbows and that sweet little nose.

These are great photos my daughter put on her blog, for which I'm grateful.

Oh Taylor you're so loved.

All my love,

Nana

Mada's freedom flight

Upon this day at 8:05pm 3 years ago Mada left this world as we know it. Today I still weep, though the tears aren't as fat,I still miss her. Selfish? Maybe. Though I can now celebrate as I smile between the tears as I imagine her running as she never had, talking as she never could and giggle as I used to think that I bet she wouldn't shut up for weeks. I'm sure my mother got an earful.

What were your memories dear one? Do you still dance with Ashley in the field of flowers in your pretty dresses? I know you look around I found your gifts of feathers. Though there was more then a time or two I had to look for the cat with a smile on it's face. Never saw it. Cher's songs have seemed to become the 'code', for I can now smile and turn up the song as her songs come on. They just don't play as often. I still get weepy when I hear Evanesence's song "My Immortal", but not like last year when it tore me to the soul.

I started a poetry journal I've titled "Lucid Moments" as they seemed to be. Quite a few are written for you little girl. Here are a few of my favorites:

Death whispers its song
Upon my daughters sweet soul
And the desert blooms

I mourn so deeply
I'd rather lay with your bones
And sleep for all time

On gossamer wings
My heart breaks a thousand times
As she flies away

Among the living
I find I can laugh again
With a different slant

Her smile is so sweet
The most beautiful blue eyes
She is now a dream


Will you paint the stars at night?
Of my summers evn' sky
As your spirit soars
So does my heart mourn
I look to find you all around
Right before my eyes
Shining brightly
As stars against a midnight sky
So before we say good night
Will you paint my stars at night?


Well my darling daughter good night. I love you so much. But you already know that don't you?

Mom

Dawn

The most resonate
Sound I heard in the stillness
Was Spirit waking

Summer's Waning

Oh Summer has slipped her guard down
And Fall
Kissed the day with his brilliant hues
But only for a moment
When Summer's attention came back around
Her vanities praised in the cadence summer song
As she ever so faintly releases her grip on the world
And we can breathe a little more each day

SeaFoam

Here it is, the window. A picture of a wave. What do you think?

Stories

As I travelled the internet highway I came across this excerpt titled“The Big Story” from The Feeling Buddha by David Brazier. The author begins this way: “What story are you living? What kind of story is it? Is it a story you’ll feel glad to have lived? Will you, when old, look back over the years without regret? Many people feel as though their lives haven’t really begun yet. They are waiting for the right conditions to begin. Others feel as though it is all over already. Some feel a sense of purpose, but many feel that their lives are disjointed, inconsequential or seriously compromised.”
Brazier goes on to say that in each life there is a big story and a little story. The little story is the story of the ego, what we call in our “Self-Mastery” class the small “s” self. I think of it as the self that knows itself in terms of limitations, strivings, attachments, appearances, gains, losses, and wounds—the facts of our life rather than the truth. The big story is about the capital “S” Self and our divine identity, innate wholeness, sense of purpose, meaning, and contribution to life.
The little story of Jesus, Brazier offers, is that he was a carpenter’s son who never managed to get himself either a [supposed] wife or a proper job and finished up by being executed for a minor offense. The big story of Jesus is, as we know, entirely something else. Notice how the little story diminishes and dismisses while the big story expands and acknowledges.
The question for us to answer is which story are we personally living? Which one do we tell about ourselves? Do we think our lives are not so great? That’s how we sell out. We can each put our lives in the service of a big story that is wholesome and good.

I'm currently working on a piece or representation of myself. The 'canvas' is a printers box. Rather large with little squares. A couple are broken off, but that's part of the 'character' (as so many of you know that's what I see when I see dents and dings). In each box are pieces of me. Memories collected throughout my life, some good some not, but it is what it is. We all have them; the little sides to us. The facets. Those are what create the diamond. I was going over this with my nearest and dearest friend and she said how I'm like a chameleon, constantly changing. I can only imagine it would be for the better. As the past is what it is and no one can undo or redo it.
With that statement I am brought to mind of my children. It is wonderful that my grand daughter is 2 months old today. Unfortunately the lastest picture I have is of 2 weeks, and no communication hence. I walked through the Dollar store today and listened to country music remembering VIVIDLY a time when I moved to be near them. With absolutely nothing but faith. I accepted the conditional relations that were offered thinking those were the best that could be given or that was deserved. Later I woke up. I love my children no matter what. Will always do so. In the meantime I've learned to love myself because how can I expect pure love to be in my life if I can't reflect it? The story continues...
Namaste

Creative Stirrings

A friend of mine told me not too long ago I was in a 'well'. Her advice was to come up for air now and again, and share the findings. Those of you who know me, know the silences are my soul stirring. Sometimes restlessness surfaces but it's a time for creation to evolve.

It's my mind chatter
It needs focus and purpose
Now it's up to me

In that haiku the meaning falls between the words in its essence.

It was a really good shoe

Good morning ya'll. Yesterday, as most of you know, I had a showing of my photographs at a new used bookstore in town. It was the opening of the place. There were great crowds for a summer night, thank you all who was able to make it. Those who couldn't I felt your loving spirit.

I still consider it a success though I didn't sell anything. Got a lot of good feedback and I think there'll be future sales and if not well pick out your favorites you MAY get them for Christmas. lol. Either way it was great. OH! and my name was in the paper. No, not on the police blog, and not in the obits (thank God), but in the Compass section under the art walk area. That was worth the price of a sell out even if my wallet would argue.

Until we meet again.

Being...inspired (an afterthought)

It was with trepidation and fear of the unknown that I wrote. I thought deeply of Picasso in what has been portrayed of his angst and life. To never have broken the boundries of his own fears but never getting out because of his vision. It is a reminder that time waits for no one; whether they have the vision of the future in their heads or their hands. As I learn more I lean on another strong person; Frieda, for explanation of grace into the art. She fell, but authenticly, richly, and truely.

A Midsummer's Night....

It is with relief
Revealed in a sigh
As Mercury's flight
Turns back right

Twas Like a dream
Upon a midsummer's night
As lovers took upon their flight
So the sacred's shadow flowed
Within Puck's michievous glow

To set forth with thy mind
Conversations of many kind
Answered none
But questions abound
Followed by more
if the answer was thought to be found

By Oberon's folly
He set by night
A lovers tryst
Corrected by dawns light

Upon the morn my mind awakes
Within a new path
Of Creativity's flight.

Shoulda, Coulda, Woulda

Living life. External confirmation vs internal acceptance conscious responsibility for one's own emotional reactions.

Instead of "he/she made me...(fill in the dots), I remind myself "I chose to..." no need to justify it; it is what it is...a choice. Whether it feels like a choice or not, that is what it is

In the movie "The Devil Wears Prada", Ann Hathorn's character is given the choice (presented as otherwise), to take a trip to Paris in place of the one who had been planning and counting on it. Though it wasn't presented as a choice, with Meryl Streep's character telling her she's going to Paris but she had to tell the other girl that she wouldn't be. Not much of a choice is it? It was one of those 'or quit' choice but a choice just the same. The situation became one that covers up that grey area of integrity then steps over the line. That point comes to light later in the movie in the car after a dinner in Paris. I recommend seeing it.

Eleanor Roosevelt said (and I'm sure I'm para phrasing), "no one can make you feel bad without your consent".

So when I feel ashamed, stupid or guiltly it's usually me making it external. I was treated... instead I need to change that to I chose to accept that behavior....

A lesson my sister wrote about 'it's easy'. Until one becomes comfortable with trying or doing something new it will leave it's own effect on us that we give it. I know that if something is easy to someone else and not to me, I could be making it more detailed then it either needs to be OR my detailedness will take it further in the expression of what I'm doing.

New Do

Bad Girl Gang

Well here it is. Susan you posted it first, thank you. I don't have a scanner so I had to wait until I could get a copy via email or blog.

Be....(fill in the blank)

Once I chose the word inspiring. Of course this thought provoking word provoked thought, and dictionary.com fed live.

in·spire ( P ) Pronunciation Key (n-spr)v. in·spired, in·spir·ing, in·spires v. tr.
To affect, guide, or arouse by divine influence.
To fill with enlivening or exalting emotion: hymns that inspire the congregation; an artist who was inspired by Impressionism.
To stimulate to action; motivate: a sales force that was inspired by the prospect of a bonus.
To affect or touch: The falling leaves inspired her with sadness.
To draw forth; elicit or arouse: a teacher who inspired admiration and respect.
To be the cause or source of; bring about: an invention that inspired many imitations.
To draw in (air) by inhaling.
Archaic.
To breathe on.
To breathe life into. v. intr.
To stimulate energies, ideals, or reverence: a leader who inspires by example.
To inhale.

"Pink Floyd legend Syd Barrett dies" was a headline just the other day. What has he have to do with the word 'inspiring'. Well, he was an origional member of the band. The hit song "Shine On You Crazy Diamond" was about him, according to this article. His unique take on perspective of life, and not always legally, has left several notables in the music industry have him as they're brilliant light of inspiration.

Are there merits to being 'inspiring'? Are there disadvantages? What or who's to say 100 years from now the notable musicians of today who were inspired by this person would be considered a nobody, whilst he who inspired became the master. Monet, Manet, Degas, Cassatt, Picasso, Pissero are just those (and for those who don't know they are the salt of the Impressionist artist), are a prime source of the word. They who suffered starvation, social miscast, exaggerations of emotions and famlial differences; but greatness was not to be deterred. They went on continuing what their spirit made them; their bliss, and in the meantime changed the art world whether it liked it or not.

Did they regret it? I don't think they had a choice. Was it worth it to be 'it'? Well we'll never know from them personally, however their takes of choices made in their living years may have kept them yearning; but their divine inpiration lives on. After all when something beautiful has touched a soul it then lives on eternally.

Personally I'm not sure I want the dual edge of 'being inspiring'. Dual? Yes, by being an example of what not to be or do, however, and the 'masters' proved it again and again, Frank Lloyd Wright being one, you can't have one without the other. But then again, is there really an option?

Sultry days of summer

The apex of summer, July 4th, has come and gone with it's usual celebration and hoo raa's. Vacations are underway or have passed for others. This to me a time of "winter". Up in the Northern states the "winter" involves snow and freezing cold that chases people indoors for several months. Here in La Florida it's the "summer" that becomes "winter" as the heat is so strong it chases people indoors for several months.

This time for me is of contemplation. It gets reflected in my drawings and writings. I'll read good novels as that is what one does over the summer, and also get a book or two from a deep thinker or two like the Dali Lama or Wayne Dwyer. They have a way to put the perspective back into the daily routine. Finding the miracle in the day. Even if it's to stop and "smell the roses" it's a wonder to look at the differences in the color of the sky the shapes of clouds. I suppose someone has to do it since we're all too busy to. Funny I've come to look forward to certain natural occurances. Like when I walk from parking my car to work in between is a yard to the convent. Every year it gets sprinkled with dandelions (daisy lions as my oldest would say), but it's so beautiful. It's like the sun leaving it's golden coins on the ground to frame a beautiful old building. The capturing an image in a puddle still is the most fun. So while the dog days are here enjoy the breath of fresh air before that summer storm, hold your hand out of the car window to "make rainbows" while taking that drive, and relish the colors of the sky whether it'd be sunrise or sunset and don't forget to look at the stars at night. I wonder how many wishes are caught up there? Do you think you could see yours?

Happy July 4th

Happy 46th Birthday Susan!!!

Here it is another 4th of July. This is the time I used to spend with my children. I miss them. While Susan, Jackie and I were sitting in a bench in the sun on St. George Street a feather whirly gigged it's way to my feet from the top of a tree. I put it in my pocket, smiled and thought "I love you too Mada".

We had a good time. Got an old fashioned photo of us 'bad girls' with big guns. It turned out really funny. It'll show up on the blog later when it gets downloaded. In the meantime there is us in our hats.

It's been a good walk down Jackie's memories with our mom and dad that Susan and I never knew. She shared a lot of slides which shed some lights on our parental units and our dad's parents. I've got a few to have put on a cd, so we'll see when I get them. Well the line for the computer is getting long as my sisters are perfecting the act of 'hovering'. lol. only kidding.

Happy 4th everyone, and Happy birthday Susan

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