"A Day for the Book"

It was a day from a book,

steeped in its own warm juice

heavy with smells of growing ...

-Alastair Reid, "A Day for the Book" from Weathering: Poems & Translations

Such days are a true gift: moments strung together like brightly colored beads, each one intricate and fantastic in detail and completeness. One such moment, like a core memory (thank you Inside Out) a bubble of perfection, but an entire day brimming with golden moments?

I tell you, I could hear the mermaids singing. Okay, it was the cooing of a llama (same thing if you ask me) which is no less magical and heart-stopping.  The day went under the guise of a painting workshop and while I went with no expectations (okay, I had hopes for a Stevie kiss) I was pretty certain at the very least, I would have a lovely time. I mean, I was going to Apifera Farm for the day and to paint on top of that. Surely goodness and love would follow me all the day, right?

I admit, my hopes had wilted just a tad given the predicted 100 degree temperature for the day, although I figured the heat might keep me out of my head and open to experiencing a new way to approach painting. More than anything, I was worried the heat might keep the Misfits sequestered away in cool, dark places and while I was journeying there to paint, it was to paint while in conversation with these spirited animals that drew me half way across the country. 

There is a lovely description of how the day unfolded HERE. In addition to Katherine Dunn, our teacher and guide into the deeper alchemical mysteries of donkey ears, goat kisses, inner stories and paint, there were a total of four of us creating together in the cool of a barn. Katherine's horse, Boone, watched over us for the first part of the morning while Lady Birdie, a dainty llama occasionally peeked in to check our progress. 

our studio/art laboratory for the day

one of Katherine's lesson pages

The gentle and intimate mood of the workshop was established by an opening session with the donkeys where we were invited to drop into silence and to open up inner ears and eyes, allowing the donkeys to guide us into the art of intuitive presence. It was a Mary Oliver poem come alive -  

I don't know exactly what a prayer is.

I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down

into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,

how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,

which is what I have been doing all day.

- Mary Oliver, "The Summer Day"

 

 

Only a poet's words come close to capturing the experience of being welcomed by a herd of diminutive donkeys. While I wished I could have my camera handy to capture the gestures and the details of these soulful creatures, I am grateful Katherine encouraged us to engage directly with the residents of the farm rather than filtering our experience through the lens of a camera or smartphone.  Rather than busying myself with my camera, I was open and receptive to receiving tender nuzzles from donkeys and the kisses of dear Stevie (yes, my expectations were filled!)

I was able to stay alert to the subtler language and gesture of the animals as they initiated us all into the magic that is Apifera Farm.

The morning was a blend of donkey love, art lesson and inspiration, creative play and spirited conversation. Sitting around the table painting, I was reminded of the rich history of women's circles: women coming together to converse while hands are busied stitching, painting, drawing, knitting or sewing. What is crafted is found not only on one's lap, but deep within, as each of us wove our stories into the collective story of meaning, purpose, healing and hope.

It is a privilege to sit with others in a space of trust and respect and even more so when tender seeds of creative exploration are being put down. Watching Katherine paint was both inspiration and confirmation of my own artistic instincts and aspirations. I learned new techniques and skills but more importantly, I was initiated into a way of relaxing into the flow that is at the heart of any intimate conversation whether it be a creative or spiritual one. The trick is to stay present, curious, open and welcoming to whatever presents itself to the mind, the eye, or the subconscious, engaging with it to see where it may lead, but staying relaxed enough to switch partners and dance with a new impulse or idea.

Sounds a lot like communing with the donkeys or goats or horses. 

Original artwork © Katherine Dunn/Apifera Farm

 
Lunch was served in the cool and inspiring space of Katherine's studio. A feast of ripe watermelon, cantaloupe, avocadoes, grapes and crackers that quenched hot and thirsty artists. The only thing juicier and more nourishing was the array of artwork that surrounded us as we continued several lively conversation threads.

all artwork © Katherine Dunn/Apifera Farm

all artwork © Katherine Dunn/Apifera Farm

The afternoon brought more painting and time to wander around and greet the Misfits. Despite the leisurely pace, the day flew by! It was hard to accept the day's end and even harder to contemplate shaking off the fairy dust and reverie that Apifera immerses one in. 

We each walked away with a painted record of our time together, but more than that we collected moments and memories that will nourish us in ways I suspect each of us is slowly discovering. Katherine asked us to put into a word what we felt like upon entering the farm and again, a word (or words) that capture how we felt by the day's end. When I passed through the farm's gate, it wasn't a word or thought that arose so much as a full body sigh, a sense of relief at arriving. By the end of the workshop I felt rooted, grounded, as if I had come home  ... to myself and to the life I am ready to claim and transform. 

Our day captured and translated into this poem piece by a sister painter

 
Indeed, the day had already transformed me! While painting in the barn, I slowly became aware of Boone, Katherine's horse, breathing slowly and steadily into my back as if inflating me to a fuller and more awake version of myself. By the end of the day, I was able to naturally assume the posture of confident and capable artist, sizing up and seizing hold of my world. 

Thank you Katherine and sister painters for the bounty of gifts so lovingly parceled out on this magical summer day. It was a day for the book, a day tenderly folded and tucked away into my heart for safe keeping, a day I will return to again and again to nourish and sustain me whenever I feel my spirits flag. 

What the day offered was space and time to dream, paint, and play. What I believe we all experienced was permission and safety to tune into our hearts and listen for the quiet murmurings of our deeper selves. A sound I believe sounds very much like the trilling coo of a llama ... or perhaps it is the unique voice of this llama, dear Lady Birdie? 

'tis the season (& don't let the turkeys get you down)

 I couldn't resist ...

Actually, I am always excited to see turkey.  He comes around a lot when I am with Cowgirl and his presence reminds me abundance is always afoot.

Still, as the calendar pages flip over to a new season I remember: transitions are always dicey.  Stepping off a stable dock and into a wobbly boat, usually there is someone ready to assist with a steadying hand. How then to step out of winter's inertia and into the energy of Spring without slipping or falling?  What steadies me?

Even thought it is still March, I find myself reciting the opening lines to T.S. Eliot's "The Waste Land":

April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.

There is something challenging in the promise of Spring finding its foundation in the death and decay of Winter. I remember according to Ayurveda the three qualities - the Gunas -  that describe all of existence: tamas (inertia, darkness, impurity), rajas (energy, action, change, movement) and sattva (balance, unity, purity). These principles also describe the cycles of creation, preservation (living), and destruction that are in constant motion even though we prefer not to dwell on the fact that the only certainty in life is that things - ourselves included - will change, will never stay the same.

I catch myself thinking that death seems to be winning.  So many around me have been touched by loss in recent months.  Just this week a neighbor went to the hospital and it is unlikely that he will be returning home. Yet this is the way of life: birth, living, then death. The cycle isn't amplifying so much as I am noticing it more. 

Winter is tamas: the time of rest, decay, the natural conclusion to all that growth and activity of the previous seasons. When the time comes, when Spring arrives, it brings with it energy - heat, sun, light - to awaken the earth and to start the cycle of living/growing once again. So too I must reinvigorate myself. I must generate within myself some heat, some energy and coming out of a dark phase, this is always clunky, always challenging.

Thankfully, I have a few go-to moves that I've collected over the years.  Actions that help jump-start my day and in turn my inner engine so that I find myself moving in the direction of wholeness, happiness, joyful action transforming into joyful being.

It's really ridiculously simple.  I attend to the clutter. I find an rhythm to my day. Tidying up the morning breakfast, feeding the dog, then heading upstairs where I toss a load of laundry into the wash. There is  something about tackling the ever-present piles of dirty clothes that acts as a reset button.  It is my feeble nod towards productivity. I may get little else done, but there will be some clean clothes by the end of the day. I then hop in the shower and after I have bathed and dressed, I go through the house opening up all of the blinds, letting in the morning light.

Spring cleaning ... it makes total sense.  Before new growth can happen, I've got to clear out the death wood, tidy and prepare the way so whatever wants to be born has a place to land.  I'm itching to get outside, but the weather gods are not ready for me just yet. 

Inside there is plenty of half baked projects shouting out for my attention.  I start small, finding paintings in various states of completion ...

Pushing paint is what my one friend calls it ...  getting the juices flowing ... I know from past experience it doesn't matter so what I do as long as I do something. It is about stoking the internal fire, moving energy.  Some of the best advice I received from a yoga mentor was to consider before eating which foods would give me energy versus take energy to digest and assimilate. Expanding upon that idea, what can I do to support healthy energy flow within myself?  

The answer for me has been taking time to read, reflect, and meditate; daily prayer outside; cooking and consuming fresh foods, exploring new recipes; exercise (oh to run in the warm sunshine); and play. Lots and lots of creative play.

In the face of so much loss, there is a pull towards collapse, an impulse towards inertia.  The only valid response to death - in my humble opinion - is to live. The counterpoint to tamas is rajas, action. Both are necessary, both are part of the ever moving wheel of birth, life, death and the dance of opening, receiving, and releasing.  

The way I move out of Winter mode and into Spring is to follow the energy. Nurture and support it and then allow it to support and carry me. I am amazed to discover there has been so much all around me, so much waiting to engage and awaken me.

paintings in various states of completion; my intention is to offer them for sale soon!

What are you finding as you move out of Winter's cave and back into the sunshine? What gets your juices flowing?

 

Welcoming the mystery, relaxing into the not knowing is one way to navigate through the transitions.

filling my well

We need time out of our everyday, outer-directed lives, and not just at major life transitions, when it is most advisable, but regularly. I think metaphorically of how necessary it is that we have "diastolic" time. For it is during diastole that the heart relaxes and fills. During systole, the heart contracts and sends a powerful stream of lifeblood out. For the heart to work and provide sustenance to the whole body, it must relax and fill.  And so must we.

Jean Shinoda Bolen, Crossing to Avalon

I've been off the grid.  Not only disconnected from phone, laptop, email and all virtual connections but physically removed from the clutter and distractions of modern living.

I went on retreat. The road there included crossing this creek 

symbolizing the sense of both separation (moving over to a new shore) and containment (merging with others, reconnecting with source.)

I left thinking this would be a time to empty, time to slough off what is long past healthy and vibrant and move closer in to my essential being.  Get back to basics and recover what all too often gets buried under piles of busy work. 

I went to paint and learn new ways to dialogue with creative spirit.  

I embarked upon a journey that started on a cold, windy, dark Nebraska morning at 4 AM. Sleepy miles in an airplane delivered me to warm and sunny Arizona.  Miles traveling through desert landscapes with sisters new and yet familiar, welcoming and welcomed into my heart with the ease of a salamander slipping into a stream. (Okay, first piece of magic here: the image of salamander popping into my head as I reflect upon the merging of this sisterhood ... quick look into salamander medicine: "The salamander comes to those who are in need of change in their lives. The salamander evolutionary feat to observe, and as such, it asks us to evolve in our own lives." and "[T]he salamander hold symbolism of psyche, spirituality, emotion, and ease of motion. These attributes are intensified by the salamander's nocturnal nature because night time is symbolic of shadows, secrets, dreams, intuition and psychic abilities too.")

I had little in the way of expectations when I left home.  I was open to receive even though receiving is not my strong suit.  But this place was insistence that each of us receiving her medicine.  And equally strong was the pull - the imperative - for each of us to give of ourselves healing medicine for all, including the land, the spirits, the ancestors.

I am still in the process of integration ... not sure that understanding will ever arrive nor whether it is necessary on an intellectual level.  What knows is my heart, my soul and that language is deeper than words. 

What I can share are the snapshots of my encounters: the song of the water and wind through the cottonwood trees urging me to abide in cooling, soothing water and to offer my gifts into that flow;

 

The marks of mama mountain lion reminding me I share this place with beings powerful, respectful, in harmony with life and asking me to do the same;

 
I practiced shamanic seeing and beheld the whole of earth, the whole of life reflected back to me in a single eye of a beautiful sister. I know each of us carries within the seed of such immensity and potential to feed, sustain, support and create.  I looked but more importantly, I was seen and witnessed by moon, stars, sunlight and the Mother herself who spoke to me and make it very clear it is time stand up, quit hiding, and do the work that has been entrusted to me.  

Under that gaze I felt the immensity and the intimacy of being a creature privileged to call this earth home ...

Beholding the responsibility of that gift and the urgent need for loving, healing action and care to shift the course of things, to bring about change that is needed now more than ever if we hope to pass this world onto our children and their children.

What started as a retreat became a sacred pilgrimage for me ... a journey to reconnect with Nature, with Spirit and with my Self.  The bonus prize was the chance to learn, laugh, play and spend time in the company of so many gifted women, wise and wild,  irreverently joy-filled and soul-fully deeply committed to the work of healing and empowering themselves and those around them. 

Where this all will lead, I don't know nor do I need  to know.  I am simply trusting and following the strongest muscle of my body, the source of all truth and life

Offerings were made, much left behind in the emptying ...

Much gathered in the filling ...

Surrendering into flow and excited to see where the waters will carry me.  I just have to follow the signs ...

To quote one of our fearless leaders:  Giddy up!  Git 'er done!

So I will. So I must. 

We speak. We sing. We swallow water and breathe smoke. By the end of the ceremony, it is as if skin contains land and birds.  The places within us have become filled. As inside the enclosure of the lodge, the animals and ancestors move into the human body, into skin and blood. The land merges with us .... We who easily grow apart from the world are returned to the great store of life all around us, and there is the deepest sense of being at home here in this intimate kinship. There is no real aloneness. There is solitude  and the nurturing silence that is relationship with ourselves, but even then we are part of something larger. 

- Linda Hogan, Dwellings: A Spiritual History of the Living World

Buckets of love and gratitude to these two lovelies who held the space and called in the guides, spirits, scorpions, spiders and other critters.  Big love to and from both of them.  I'm proud to share the bunkhouse with these Cowgirls.

Jen Gray and Pixie Campbell from Visual Quest, Arizona

water goes around the rock ...

That is one of my core mantras, along with "baby steps" (is it just me, or have you noticed as you've aged Bill Murray becomes increasingly relevant and indeed heroic?)






This is not where I planned to wander today ... but I am baby stepping my way through things over here and I am claiming points for showing up.  Yes, I operate upon an imaginary point system (thank you Karen!) where certain tasks - say, making the bed or tidying up the counter clutter (clutter, I've discovered is naturally self propagating) earn me ten points.  Putting laundry away (I may be one of those rarest of rare beings that has heaps of clean, air-dried, laundry sitting about - I do so love my drying rack ...) folded is 15 points and pulling out a new, clean t-shirt for the day (rather than the one I tossed off the night before) is also point-worthy.  I don't record my points mind you ... it's just the game I play in my head.

ahem ... yes ... the voices inside my head ... so staying with the brain lint theme here, I have come to confess that I am a bit fatigued - okay, completely done in! - by the sound of my own voice droning on and on and on inside my head.  I am hoping others of you partaking in your own homesteading adventures can reassure me that you know of what I speak.  Otherwise, well ... I don't know what otherwise I have available to me?

So, baby steps and water goes around the rock ... you see, today is one of those days where my flow - if you could call it such - ran smack into a unexpected and inopportune boulder.  Nothing too massive that I cannot shift around it and indeed, there is no other option (a tantrum not option so much as a delaying tactic.) So as I take the curve around the obstacles in my day, I find myself thinking about the rocks that water goes around.  And I am thinking those rocks are really the opportunities where I am force to shift perspective, change direction, and open myself up to the reality that life is not about me reaffirming who I think I am, so much as me rediscovering moment by moment who I am and who I am becoming.

Okay ... did that just hurt your brain too?  Blame this this talk by the poet David Whyte which has the white mouse in my brain spinning wildly upon his little wheel: Being at the Frontier of Your Identity.  I've listened to this talk 3 or 4 times now and only a fraction of its immensity has penetrated the dense outer crust of my mind.  

A form of enlightenment may be to understand that you'll never feel quite at home in the world. And you're not meant to.  (from What to Remember When Waking)

My mind is reeling.

And then there is this nugget: 
 

...one of the difficulties of parenting is that you are constantly attempting to relate to someone who is not there anymore ...  they are growing so quickly  ... and you also have this internal heartbreak that they are growing away from you and they are no longer the person who needed you in every facet of their life ... and so there are tremendous dynamics that are attempting to stop the child from growing. 

I am sucking the marrow from that bone ...

So today I am attempting to staying present for the me that I meet as life forces me to flow unexpected ways.  There is the me I've crafted piece by piece through the stories and events in my life; and there is the me I meet when I let go of the labels I've plastered upon myself - impatient, emotional, sensitive, odd ball - and open to the reality that I am always unfolding, learning, growing, being and becoming.  What surprises me is how much trust I feel about that process ... and about that person.

I wonder who we will be tomorrow?  

okay, so the paintings make an appearance because 1) in reviewing old old blog posts, I was struck by all the color in my life and I feel a strong pull right now to paint and bring color back in; and 2) the characters that appear in my work represent the many voices that are attempting to penetrate this thick skull,  so perhaps I ought to give them their space to speak?

excuse me, i've got painting fever ...

... and I am a little obsessed by Ganesha right now.  Actually, on the basis of this one little guy (from my 49 by 49 series)

I've been invited to contribute artwork to a show at the yoga center where I teach.  I'm not sure they were expecting this herd of elephant-headed gods to show up but, well, I just can't seem to stop myself.  

This guy just can't make up his mind on what he wants to wear for the event: purple? green? blue?

Fortunately for Ganesha I've been immersed in Flora Bowley's incredible online course Bloom True.  Even though I took a two day workshop with Flora in April, the 5-week course has given me a chance to dive into the practices, allowing time to let things sink in.  It is so much more than mere pigment on canvas: it is about uncovering your inspiring life, being bold and brave, playful and trusting in yourself and in the notion of discovery and process. 

As you can see, I'm rolling in paint and canvas and elephants.  I just can't stop myself!

 

So excuse me if I am quiet for a bit ... I have a little over a week left to figure out who these paintings want to be.  As if this moment, I consider them still in-progress.  We have a lot more to discover about each other.

 

 I mean, I can't leave anyone behind?!  Ganesha just keeps on manifesting ...

these Ganesha babies are 6 by 6 inch gesso board pieces and will be mounted on larger panels separately.  maybe ...

... he is the god of new beginnings and he keeps asking for another close-up moment.  I must oblige.


Om Ganapataye Namo Namah Om Ganapataye Namo Namah Om Ganapataye Namo Namah Om Ganapataye Namo Namah Om Ganapataye Namo Namah Om Ganapataye Namo Namah

(I love this explanation of the Ganesha mantra: This mantra removes all evil and obstacles that prevent you from reaching your goals.  Chanting the mantra just after bath is very good or very early morning isextremely beneficial. My favorite chant to Ganesha is by Bhagavan Das which has the great line "you have a big fat red belly ..."  I hear this song and that belly keeps me painting on and on and on ...)