I have been gone for a while… There is so much going on in my life and the world, that I got lost. I have re-read my blog and think to myself; what the hell? How did I get here, when did I get lost, did I take the wrong trail? Most of it is that, I am trying to survive the quagmire of existing in a rather mucky world which can suck the soul right out of you if you don’t take care of yourself. This blog and art gallery is me taking care of myself.
I have uploaded an Art Gallery page, which is filled with some of my digital artwork. I want to make a second gallery page with my paintings and collages. They have to be photographed and or scanned. As time goes on, I will continue to upload images.
Yep, somethings gotta give. I am feeling a bit defeated, stuck in a rut, creatively flat. I get an idea but don’t give enough time to it. I come home from work, check on my garden, feed the cat, make dinner, collapse into a glass of wine and then go to bed. It has become like groundhog day, every day. Paying coin to the culture to survive. I am aware that I live in a self-imposed cage, disempowered my creative life, allowing my eight year old self run the show – you know, all the cultural programming we get as a girl. Here’s the thing, the cage door is open, I can walk away anytime I want. I am savvy enough to understand this.. I just get tired of trying and not getting anywhere. All I can do is do it for myself and say fuck you to the rest of the shitholery.
The space I have been inhabiting of late has been liminal, sort of fuzzy around the edges. I realize my mind can be dreamy, as if my inner ear is attuning itself to the whispers of the gods; and so I walk through my days and nights in a liminal state of awareness. I am aware of the 3D world, yet find myself looking for portents and the archetypal meaning of my life.
My daily walks find me involved with the vivid nature of fall. Blazing oranges, vivid yellows, and bold crimson against a sky that is so blue I find myself intensely in love with our planet. And yet, not all the trees have turned color, some are still green, not yet ready for the transition process into the fallowness of winter. It is a liminal time in nature.
I had my birthday last week, and I find happiness that I was born into such a glorious landscape. I am not really involved with All Hallows Eve, not in the modern sense of trick or treat candy, and costumery. That can be fun… but I shun it for a more sober observation of the season. Some would probably call me a bore. I look out my studio window, and see my wind blown garden, soaked with rain. Thank god for the rain – blessed rain – and that at last this summer’s drought, and the thick unbreathable smoke is gone. I find hope in the fall, observing the changes taking place and find solace in my heart, that the earth continues to live on despite the pollution of contemporary living.
Lately I have been feeling fallow, empty of inspiration. Most of the creative space has been taken over by my corporate design work. I come home, mind exhausted and all I want to do is turn off the world. Today, it is cold and wet outside. I had thought of working on a project outside in the garage, but decided instead to finally find time to write in this space and share some of my artwork. A piece of 10″ x 14″ cold press paper sits on my table ready for me to color in my empty spaces. I have a new box of colored pencils, ink pens and no idea of what will pour out of me onto the paper. As long as I can create, just for myself, I will be happy.
I am so thankful that the universe heard my prayers a year ago, in the middle of the year of Covid, and found a creative job for me in the corporate world. I get to finally use my college degree and years of experience in Photoshop… and it is wonderful.
One day, I was so frustrated, no one was hiring, couldn’t get an interview, the job scene was dismal. In a huge way, it was good – I could hang out in my studio, make art, create this blog, garden, and not get exposed to the virus. I was given time to really figure out who I was, and always wanted to be, and how tired I was of the shitholery power games people play in the cubicle world.
Anyway, I heard this voice – I know weird, but that is my world – “Can somebody help her?” Not too long after that, I had two phone calls wanting to hire me. One was for an office job doing what I have been doing for 20 years, and the other was for a design job. I took the road less traveled and went to work for a large corporation as a designer. Sometimes a door opens and you have to walk through, even though the way is murky and you don’t know where the path will take you. It is a leap of faith.
There is so much going on in peoples lives, so busy, too many worries and distractions. Lately I have been thinking about commitment to my personal passions. The things I do that help me thrive.
I have to re-commit to this blog. To my artwork. To just keep doing it; step away from the distractions of the outer world, commit to the soul life.
I have been intensely involved with my garden and now it is too hot to be outside for long. I actually made myself sick – probably heat stroke – working on a brick pathway a little too late into the morning, and planting a new flower bed in the front yard. I knew I had to step back, only work outside, in the early morning coolness, and dusk when the sun has taken its foot off the gas. We, (the human race) really need to face it, global warming is a real thing.
I live in the west, drought has changed my thinking about what I can plant. What can survive in this intense heat. What can I plant that will help the honey bees, birds and butterfly’s. I maintain a small pond for the pollinators. It is pretty cool to watch birds take a bath, and the bees zoom in for a drink of water. Growing waterlilies can be rewarding. The bees land on the lily pads to get their sip of water. A solar powered fountain keeps the water clear and aerated. Water helps to keep the garden balanced and healthy.
Honey Bee on Bee Balm
TIME TO CHANGE THE ALTAR – When there is change in your life, you should change your altar to reflect and honor the birthing of this new venture. It is a welcoming process, calling in spirit and acknowledging that you have heard the call, it is time to take another step forward on the road less taken.
Spirit has been nudging me all week. Little things, subtle things that need to be heard and attended to. I must go back in to the Shaman’s cave.
American art. What makes art American? The land, how our ancestors got here and where we live. The ancestral culture that continues to influence us through family oral history, photographs, homestead. What art did we see as children? Was there any artwork that hung in your parents home?
I was watching a video on American art this morning, the topic was the art that came out of the west. Artists like Jackson Pollock, Thomas Hart Benton, Thomas Moran, Frederick Remington. Ashamedly, this film did not include women, like Georgia O’Keefe or Emily Carr. Frida Kahlo was shallowly covered, but oh yeah! The film makers were all over Diego Rivera… and I am not sure how why Mexican artists, were included in American art. There are many female artists I could name here that the film did not cover at all. Well, I think we all know that female artists are not documented as much as male artists. That is shameful.
But, lets not get into politics. That is not really where I want to go. Those women whom I have mentioned have indeed influenced me. To live unapologetically, needing the space to create their inner and outer worlds; because to exist means to create art. Societal norms were okay, but not for them. Living on my own, creating art and working in the garden, is where I am happiest. Where freedom of body, mind and soul coexist in harmony.
I am considering the influences which have evolved my art. I think about the pictographs and petroglyphs of Native Americans and Australian Aborigines. The carvings of Northwest tribal art. Inuit drawings. The art work of the Celts and Vikings. The simple folk art of the Swedes and Pennsylvania Dutch. My mother had some reasonable facsimile artwork of Monet and Picasso on the walls of the house I grew up in. She would take me to museums to see artwork; where I first saw the work of Carr, O’Keefe, Monet, Picasso. The event that really broke me apart, was a trip to Italy. My preconceived ideas, strictures, bounds were broken down by all the artwork I saw. I came back to America, glad to be back in my homeland. So, very glad… my artwork began to change. I would think this is what makes my art American, a melting pot of influences.
I have a story board on the wall of my studio. “The journey starts here, Healing the Heart. It’s peaceful here, and spending time off the grid resets your priorities. Brings lasting beauty… Create an enduring masterpiece. If you can dream it up, you can, with healing power, Take Off! Experience! 100% cage-free, a whole new world.”
I am remembering a time, way back when I was a little girl, enjoying a large family gathering for Thanksgiving at Grandma & Grandpa’s. Their 100+ acre farm was homesteaded probably around 1920, and became a working farm with fruit & nut orchards, vegetable & flower gardens, honey bees, chickens, goats, cows, pigs, hay and corn fields. Their two story prairie style farmhouse had a wrap around porch and an outhouse, livestock barns, cellar, and tool shed. Placed on lush fertile land overlooking a river with a swimmin’ creek behind the house. The bent willow chairs they are sitting on in the photo were made by grandpa, one of his chairs can be found in a local history museum. The photo looks like they are resting after a long day of working the fields, housework, selling farm produce and looking after their young children.
Andrew & Estella circa 1922
Grandma’s kitchen was filled with all the good smells of rolls and pies baking, turkey roasting, mashed potatoes and gravy, all cooked on a wood fired stove. (Grandma was so excited when she finally got an electric stove. No more kindling to chop) Jars of canned fruits, jams, and honey glistened in the sun lit kitchen, and grandpa would take out his fiddle and play a jig. Really wonderful memories. A long table would be laid out, filled with food, all my aunts, uncles and cousins would be laughing, talking and eating. When they finally got a black and white TV, football would be playing. After the meal, all the cousins would go outside and run around like maniacs, play touch football, swing from a rope in the hay barn, stare in wonder and cautioned not to go inside the hog pen or we’d be their dinner.
Today, the sun is shining and I am thankful for my abundance. I have food in the fridge and cupboards, I have a job and do not have Covid 19. As far as I know, no one in my family have acquired the virus or died. I called my 86 year old mother this morning, she is well, and sheltering in place as much as possible. My son, who is in the Marine Corps, is taking some leave time at his father’s house. I am home with my kitties and a day of making art.
I see lines of people that do not have food or jobs, looking for some kind of relief from charities or the government. Many people have died from the pandemic, and probably many more, before the vaccine can get to everyone around the world. The government is struggling, many people are divided along political lines. Our current times are stressful, worrisome and I am not wanting to watch the news everyday because it is just too much. I suspect it is too much for most people to deal with.
Where am I going with this ~ just to say to hang in there, be glad for whatever blessings and abundance you have, be grateful for the people you love and love you back. It will get better. My thanksgiving prayer is that we all survive the pandemic, get jobs, and find peace in your heart towards those you don’t agree with and remember that we are all children of God.
‘Tis the gift to be simple, ’tis the gift to be free, ‘Tis the gift to come down where I ought to be; And when we find ourselves in the place just right, ‘Twill be in the valley of love and delight. When true simplicity is gained, To bow and to bend we shan’t be ashamed; to turn, turn, will be my delight. Till by turning, turning we come round right.
What direction are you going? Head for a life of meaning.
I love to study archetypes, folk & fairy tales, Jungian psychology and dream journaling. These studies provide imaginational guide maps which ask you to be your own heroine or hero. Your personal story can be viewed as a mythological journey into the depths of your being. A story in which you can win or fail, depending on whether you are paying attention to “post it notes” from the universe. You are your own archetype.
We can cling to old narratives, dependency, inferiority, and deficit thinking; which can be so limiting, which will anchor us to ideas that don’t fit our personal paradigm. It is a comfortable place and most people resist leaving the cozy familiarity of personal history. Yes, faced with the liminality of not being able to see ahead, but knowing that you have to walk through the door, is daunting. But never the less you must persist. This is the heroines journey, to persist in the face of fears so strong you are left feeling shaken and insecure.
I have been thinking about liminality lately. Nothing seems certain anymore. The path I was on, had become precarious, unpredictable, filled with frustration and anger. So much has changed, ended, and no longer held true. The old ways were no longer viable. I find myself at the threshold, the curtains are drawn back but the light is dim and I cannot see the new path, yet I know with absolute certainty, I must walk upon it or die.
Sabian Symbol phase 230 (Scorpio 20 dg): A woman draws away two dark curtains closing the entrance to a sacred pathway. The deepest intuitions of the soul, a path to the mystics life is opened up once the darkness of fear, egocentricity and dualistic morality is removed. It reveals what a positive reliance upon faith and intuition can bring about. Courage is needed to go through the veiling darkness – the courage to venture beyond the familiar and the traditionally known, to plunge ahead into the unknown. ~ Dane Rudhyar, An Astrological Mandala
postscript: I had a dream last night, after writing in my blog yesterday. I am pleased with the dream and feel like I am being guided down the right path. Backstory to my journey over the last year has been working with my shadow complex, Saturn astrology, relaxing into owning my own shit and being okay with it. In other words, loving my self and not labeling my psychological being in a dualistic manner of good or bad.
I have actually had two days of dreaming, revolving around destruction of old homes and the reconstruction of new homes. The first dream involved exploring an old Victorian mansion, one in which I have had several dreams about. The place was old and was scheduled to be torn down, and the neighborhood was also being graded and readied for new homes. Last nights dream, found me standing in the wreckage of a building and watching a spiritual ceremony in which a new threshold was being established. The priests were dressed very colorfully, kinda looked like Peruvian shamans. They carried a door jamb to where the entrance to a new building would be constructed. There were steps up to the threshold, behind the threshold were the blackened remains of the former building. I was told by the priests to respect and honor this new threshold and it will honor you.
This artwork is a combo of an illustration from the Book of Kells and a rune for protection. I created it in Adobe Illustrator. It depicts two creatures fighting, not sure but I see a bear and a dog. The rune (looks like a P) is the rune Wunjo, meaning joy & light, peace & harmony. It is pronounced Unyo or Wunya. I interpret this for myself as, despite all the travails of the past, things will finally align. It represents clarity and understanding of your inner self and where you want to be in your life.
I have been thinking a lot about how the spoken word or action of another can hurt and victimize someone. Cancel culture has become popular; many people’s lives have been destroyed and altered beyond recognition of what they used to be. They become invisible, shunned, criticized; their voices no longer heard. It is deplorable to hurt someone, it is cultural violence, a means to produce a feeling of supremacy over the other. I believe that the perpetrator is actually covering up their own feelings of inadequacy, their fear that someone will discover a hidden shame, an inner feeling of unworthiness. The shining light of their soul is kept in the closet and the shadow self rules the day. Essentially, they are out of balance.
The misuse of power and authority is being called out in our collective right of passage ~ the transformation of our culture. It is urgent that we find our inner humanity & compassion towards others, to transcend the culture of cancellation. We must everyday, represent our nobler selves in our interactions, see beyond our differences and embrace our commonality.
I have been listening to some rather wonderful podcasts of the philosophical and mystical voice of Michael Meade ~ Mosaic Voices. Please check it out, I think you would be pleased to have your soul life stimulated by his wisdom thoughts on life.
I am still alive. I am breathing. I am conscious. I have many things to be grateful for, and in those small things, I prosper.
My journey took me into the lower world. I usually find this path full of twists and turns as I go down into the depths of my being. I arrive at the threshold of a small green hobbit like door which opens easily and I step through into a forested world, a waxing moon hangs above me in a star filled dark blue sky. There to greet me are characters from some of my paintings. They are there to help me on this journey’s intention to find some healing of my heart, soul, and mind. I find this amusing and wonderful; recognizing my artists soul come alive within the journey.
Spirit walks with me down to a calm lake, there is a row boat waiting for me. I know I must cleanse myself first and walk into the warm water, diving under and allow the water to wash away all my worries, all my frustrations and anger. Spirit is waiting for me on the shore and helps to wrap a gauzy white cotton robe around me, belted with a pale blue ribbon.
I get into the green row boat and begin to paddle out into the lake, seeing a small forested island ahead of me; my destination. Rowing up to the island, I tie my boat to a wooden dock and walk up axe hewn wooden stairs to a small nordic building on stilts. There waiting for me is an ancestor, he is a large man, fully bearded and dressed in homespun. An ancient swede, kind and gentle, living off the land and sea; his home is on stilts to protect from marauding bears. He points out other homes like his on the shoreline, their homely candle lights twinkling into the dark. He beckons me inside.
picture this on stilts
The ancestor asks me to sit on a low wooden stool. The interior of the home is warm and cozily lit with tallow candles. The hearth itself is a large flat stone, set on the floor, a small fire is burning upon it, and smoke spirals up through a hole in the roof. I tell him that I am here to find some healing for my heart. I tell him about my worries, he quietly listens. He got up after awhile and came over to put his arm around me. He tells me that I am prosperous. I question that, and he asks me to look at my life and tells me again, to recognize that I am indeed, prosperous. I realize that he is right.
A decision is made that I need a healing ceremony. The ancestors and some others (clansmen?), lay me on a platform and lay green leafy tree branches on top of me. Then the clan shaman arrives, dressed in a bear skin complete with head. He examines me and then folds me up inside the bear skin with him. I rest there in the shamans arms until the drum calls me back from my journey into ordinary reality.
This morning’s sky is a sallow yellow, thick with smoke from the fires here in southern Oregon. It has been a hellish 48 hours and I am so tired and quite frankly, traumatized. I did not lose my home, like so many others. I do know several people who have lost their homes in Talent and Phoenix. I lived for years in Talent and moved a couple years ago to Medford. I am very familiar with the streets, homes and businesses that have burned down to the ground. I feel so very sad for the loss of peoples homes and livelihood.
Tuesday started off at 5 am, woken up by a fierce dry wind, blowing trees sideways, scattering leaves and debris in its wake. I kept busy inside the house to avoid the wind and smoke from a fire burning in northern California; I was completely unaware that a fire had started in Ashland that morning. I went out to water my garden around 4 pm and saw a huge black cloud, at first I thought, wow! we’re going to have a rainstorm. Then, I realized that I was seeing a cloud of smoke. I turned on the TV and found out that a fire had progressed through the towns of Talent and Phoenix and was licking at the south side of Medford. My neighborhood, which is on the north side was on a level 1 alert. A neighbor banged on my door around 8:30 pm and told me that there was a fire about 2 blocks from us. We could see flames and smoke from where we stood in front of my house. The wind had probably blown embers from the fire about a mile away and sparked the fire threatening my neighborhood; the sirens of multiple fire trucks and police cars could be heard screaming towards the fire. We were suddenly at level 3, evacuate now!
not my particular street, but fire behind my home
I had previously packed up some stuff in my car just in case, so I corralled the cats into their carrier and found a safe parking lot a couple miles away crowded with other evacuees. The roads were filled with police cars, fire trucks and people evacuating. I returned home several hours later when the alert level was lowered; I spent a restless night on edge and worried about my safety.
Early the next morning I loaded my car with stuff that I really didn’t want to lose and kept my eye on the news all day; on edge, upset and waiting for something to happen again. I went out to water around 4 pm and saw a big cloud of smoke suddenly bloom behind my house. It was in the same area as yesterday’s fire. I could see flames, smoke billowing and heard sirens, an airtanker was swooping in and dumping fire retardant on the flames. My power went out and I decided to evacuate. The cats and I spent several hours in a safer part of town, waiting it out, hoping my house still stood when I got back. My neighbor texted me and told me everything was good, it was safe to come back to an intact neighborhood.
It has been an exhausting experience, shocked to see all the devastation and the maddening minute by minute alert watch to see if anything else would happen. The air quality is extremely hazardous, there is a boil water order in place and the county remains on various stages of alert levels. The air is thick with acrid brownish yellow smoke. A breeze has picked up; I hope everything remains calm fire-wise. My big complaint in all this is that the reverse 911 citizen alert system was not utilized, or at least, I didn’t get any alerts even though I am signed up. I re-signed up and hope it works. I did film a couple video’s via my cellphone, but wordpress doesn’t want to accept the file. I am thankful to be alive and safe, my house is intact. I am thankful to the first responders for helping the community they serve; and my family for their constant contact with me, making sure I am safe.
Sacred Spiral Design 