follow the yellow brick road ...

My girl is ten - TEN - years old!  Showing signs of the sass that certainly will be her signature flavor in the teens years, but thankfully she retains aspects of her original innocence. She still sleeps with her stuffed animals, mostly birds and sharks which says a lot her personality and what we might be in for down the road.

But ten years?  Done in a blink of an eye.  I've experienced the passing years like one of those coin catching wells ... you know ... the kind where you toss the coin in at the top and it spins around and around the circular perimeter, the circles getting smaller as the coin moves toward the center until finally it whips madly about in its last laps before descending down the dark hole at the bottom.

with her Uncle enjoying a pre-yellow brick road tater tot

Feeling a bit like I am more than half way down, the circuits getting smaller and faster ... although I am attempting to counter this speeding up effect through traditional means ... Live as if you had more time and you will (Karen Maezen Miller)

In the magical realms, does time matter?  

So the Husband worries that we (by which he means me) might be leading Cowgirl astray with all the support and encouragement around fairies and dragons and house gnomes. He worries other kids will begin to make fun of her ... that she will be angry with us for misleading her ... that she will be disappointed to learn the truth ...

I sit there listening to his misguided worries ... yes, hesitant to voice what I know to be the truth:

That there is a realm we cannot measure, see, chart, dissect but nonetheless many know - in that manner of knowing that cannot be articulated -  it exists ... it makes its presence known ...   

Can you imagine how cuffed I was for our girl to take her "Show Me" Dad on a nature hike only to discover this:

and this:

and 13 other fairy homes in what appears to be a thriving fae community well-established in nearby park.

To believe ... or not believe ... it is an individual choice.  Many will not and we believers must be prepared to withstand the barbs, the accusations, the doubts lobbed at us.  Many do not want to believe ... it takes a fair amount of strength and trust within oneself to do so. 

Sometimes those doubts will upset our footing, making us stumble and question ourselves.

Thankfully, there is support.

fairy slipper orchid essence ... my new fav exilir created by this Fae advocate

There are practices that help us align with the magic.  Just step outside. Sit awhile with nothing to do.  Close your eyes and open up your other senses, particularly that sensitive organ of the heart.  You have to wait awhile, allowing space and time for  the magic to come to you. 

Thankfully, I am surrounded by believers.  In fact, as one sister-in-wings  has noted All my friends are magic keepers.  They have to be. 

Grab the hand of a friend ... it helps to have another witness the magic with you. It makes the journey that much more enjoyable, more magic-filled. Now, follow the magic ... yes, follow the yellow brick road ...

xo to our sisters in the North ... you know who you are ...

some days (and Eggy memories)

Oh Friday! I had such aspirations for you - a day busy with relaxing! Some yoga, a little meditation, painting, time outdoors to sit and gather navel and brain lint. Alas, it was not to be.

As U2 so aptly put it: some days take less but most days take more, some slip through your fingers and onto the floor.

Heading out for what was to be a quick oil change and then jaunt to the grocery store, I was stalled for three hours waiting for my car which meant dashing home, no lunch, walking the dog and then zipping over to the school to pick Cowgirl up. And it got worse.

Yes, on Friday the thirteenth I took on the most dreaded of all errands: grocery shopping with a young child in tow. A hungry, end-of-the-first-week-back-to- school- after-break child.

And the dollop of whip cream on top of that: said child and mother both tired and cranky after a night of thunderstorms which involved multiple waking ups to cries, claps of thunder, pinched shoulders, boney limbs thrashing, hot bodies squeezing in upon me, returning child to her bed only to have the entire scenario repeated hours later.

All of which means I went grocery shopping, dropped some serious cash and came home with nothing to eat. What we do have: pretzel bread, cinnamon toast crunch cereal (purchased for the Star Wars pen inside; Cowgirl will eat one bite and say she's finished which means daddy gets the entire sugary box), a HotWheels car (I'll pay you back when we get home mommy - promise!), fudgesicles, an apple pie (I thought I was grabbing black cherry), watermelon and a surplus of spinach and spring mix salad greens.

I forgot to buy the wine I very much want to be drinking right now.

So here I sit ... a Friday night and we've been to martial arts class, walked the dog (again) and Cowgirl is almost almost in bed. For a few hours before the next wave of storms is set to move in.

Good riddance to you Friday. I am ready to try again tomorrow ... except tornadoes are in the forecast and now I really wish I had that bottle of wine.

Here are some recent memories of better days.

































Do note: our children do not need parents to help them score some major Easter Egg booty.







The moral of this whole story (because I want to find meaning in this otherwise squandered day): some days you find your eggs are rotten but other days they may be marvelously multicolored or even - gasp - chocolate!

honoring my cycles and rhythms

Silly me ... I just can't seem to accept the fact that while Summer may conjure up notions of freedom, play, no hurries, no worries, life as spaciousness, sunshine and sleeping in that is the reality of a child - yes, my child and my childhood - but not the reality of a mother.

Not that I am complaining ... well, just a tad. I enjoy that our summer days are filled with play - the pool, bike rides, the park, getting together with friends - but it is anything but spaciousness or calm.

So I was watching this wild woman/goddess vlog about working with sacred tools, thinking I really needed to get myself a big 'ole hunk of amethyst crystal and selenite to help me find my way, when I stepped away from the computer (okay, my desk at work) only to return 15 minutes later to find a small praying mantis waiting for me upon my pile of papers.

not this fellow (I didn't have my camera that day)
I actually have an archive of praying mantis images when they previously visited me. obviously, they decided I needed a follow-up visit.

Things that make you go hmmmm?

Like, how in the world did that little guy get all the way into the building, up to the second floor and through another room to end up in my office? As he was lazily waving his arms at me, I knew he traveled the arduous path to bring me a very special message.

Find safety in stillness. Pay attention to my energy flow and how I am using it. Move according to my own rhythms, my own instincts. Most of all, cultivate patience.

floor tile from the Palazzo Vecchio in Florence

While in Italy I was taken by the personal emblem for Cosimo de Medici: a turtle with a sail. The motto Festina lente meaning "make haste slowly." This is me right now. Plodding along slowly, methodically, directed but not rushing.

week one of Elements involves making and prepping your journal.
There is still time to join (but hurry, registration closes July 15)

Last week I started Elements of Art Journaling with Effy Wild which is a 6 week course exploring our relationship with each of the natural elements: earth, air, water and fire along with the fifth element of spirit. The timing of this course couldn't be more perfect as I recognize a need to return to self-care through ayurveda (the sister science of Yoga). According to ayurveda, I am pretty much split equally between fire (Pitta) and air (Vata) the result being I need structure, order, discipline and then I crave spontaneity, change, and lots and lots of mental and visual stimulation. A true see-saw life.

i am working on the opening spread ... taking my time!

Here Mel, the full effect ... while I love my journal (little snippet from goddess leonie i love myself inside and out ) I am honoring my need to just "do it" and not sweat the details.
To see a truly breath-taking journal and read a good summary of the course, check out glitter Queen Mel's pimped out and rockin' work here.

What I am realizing is I have natural cycles or rhythms to my energy and to my interests. In the Spring I was all about writing. Now I am craving deep time with my art journal and painting. I'm sure in a few weeks I will want only to play with my camera. Rather than struggle with what I think I ought to be doing right now (keeping the skills up) I have to honor that when I am so inspired, I will return to that part of my being. What soothed me yesterday was sewing.

"what is it?" you may ask. why it is a name banner/bunting for Cowgirl

it was a lot easier to sew than to try and photograph in its entirety!

Easy to say, but hard for this monkey mind to maintain. My mind jumps in with all sorts of proclamations and judgements about what I could manage. But my spirit knows better. My need right now is earth - solidity, groundedness, centeredness - combined with the flowing, moving, cooling qualities of water. A slow stream though, not a raging river.

Speaking of which ... I do have a little project brewing that defies all these resolutions. Announcements to come soon. But as a teaser, let me just say ...






... we're coming back! This August we will be painting up some arty goodness that we will raffling off for charity! Details to follow. Painting with a Purpose, Season Two with a few juicy surprises and bonus goodies.

And with that, this turtle is seeking a light breeze to guide her on her way. Festina lente, my friends, lente.

my dandelion girl

What I want you to know
is you were born
with all that you will need
to survive this life:

independence,
loyalty to those
who've earned your trust,
the ability to love
with your whole being
eyes closed, face lifted.

My weed child -
you grow and thrive
with abandon.

Brave dandelion girl,
never questioning your right
to seize what you need;
your gifts -
laughter
heart
imagination.





You unpack the fear
I have carried
stone heavy in my heart;
to journey with you
I've discovered
my wholeness resting
quietly,
a seed
awaiting
this very moment
to sprout.

Together
let us take over
this field
carpeting it in yellow,
proclaiming our
courage to be
true.

holy guacamole! (yes, i've gone and done it ...)

When you consider speaking, ask yourself whether what you have to say is an improvement on silence. (Swami Kripalu)

Sorry Bapuji, I forgot to ask.

Not a vlog but a video in which I attempt to tell stories, babble a fair bit, get teary eyed and have no real conclusion (but Mel, did I have content?) Yes, I did refrain from reading my more emotionally charged piece of memory retrieval ... if you watch this, you will understand just how emotional that other piece must be!

Profound thought from all of this: why does doing your own thing (or thang as it would sound spoken with a twang) become burdened by expectations and judgments? When did we lose the ability to just do what we love because, well, we love doing it?

And now I wonder ... is there some kind of adrenal rush from making these things? I am floating around now in a haze ...

(although, curse you Vimeo! There is some evil gremlin within who always ALWAYS chooses a screen shot where I look like I am about to be seriously ill on the laptop.)

edit: links I need to share - Jen Lee Finding Your Voice
Natasha Reilly Creative Nachos

retrieving memory from Lisa Hofmann on Vimeo.

today (easter prep)

today I sit, coffee cup between my palms seeking some warmth on yet another cold, drizzly day.

(I don't mean to sound bitter, but everyone's images of Spring in full throttle are depressing me; I seem to have developed an unrequited love for the sun. I call my girlfriend up on the phone, she says "hello?" and I simply sigh. She always knows it is me.)

today I walked the dog and tried to imagine myself in Ireland, the soggy greens of Spring that deep, that moist ...

however, this stale cup of coffee is not refreshing me like a good cup of tea, luv.

today I long for a day outside of time luxurious space to dream, think, remember and then play.

today I must:
-take the dog to the vet's
-grocery shop
-buy eggs and dye
-jelly beans and peeps
-make a card for a baby shower







and god, cook another dinner.

(It is not the cooking I find overwhelming; it is determining what to cook, the weekly meal planning and trips to the store a stone I repeatedly roll up hill. It seems I've misplaced my gusto, the joie in my vivre.)


today I receive unexpected guests, memories descending upon me, snippets of songs clouded by time: Easter services, family dinners, pastel print dress and buster brown shoes, my godmother singing "Hey Jude" on the organ with a samba beat.






today I awoke longing for a respite, a mini-vacation if you will, not an escape, but a bubble of time suspended - allowing the emotional snow fall within my snowglobe to settle.

today I want to luxuriate in books and words - yours and mine
today I feel closer to my truth, fingertips brushing the velvety surface
my senses know what my mind can never grasp.

today I sit here and dream while one eye keeps tabs on the clock; my morning slipping away

Time
a cat stalking me through the high grass.

my list grows, preparations must get underway:
a bunny village to erect
details tidied
life, reorganized.

today I will remember this weekend is about hope, birth after death, rabbits and resurrection, creativity reanimating the world

another chance to align myself with my expanding heart, each beat, a mantra

i am i am i am ...

the seeds of my salvation reside within me; within the simple truth of goodness - mine and yours -

and innocence







seeing the world through wide eyes alert, open, receptive to magic and miracles and a heart willing to take it all in.

today I step gingerly over the wet dog, wrap a sweater about me and take in the wonder of robins fat from the bounty of worms

and await the return of the sun.

Practical Magick

Signs of Magick abound

We actively practice

It in our home

but don’t let any unbelievers know

It is not what you think -

We don’t cast spells,

or cook up any newt’s eyes,

And broomsticks and peaked hats

are superfluous

In actuality

When I say “practice”

I mean we stay open to

The possibility of the miraculous

residing within the prosaic,

recognizing that

we can be transformed

in ways bolder

than our imagination allows

To those initiated in its language

Magick presents itself everyday

in ways both

Humble and bold

I’ve seen it too many times

not to believe

Here is my testimonial:

A grumpy morning troll

transmutes into a shining elf child

through mint tea

an elixir healing body and spirit

A queen’s necklace of protection is

disguised as simple yarn and plastic beads,

and domestic fairy folk

camouflage themselves with

button eyes, wooley fur and silent mouths

keeping safe the secrets

known only by those trained in the art

of listening

Sacred pebbles and gemstones appear on our path

reminding us to keep a watchful eye

for earth’s treasures

while garden fairies gift us

inspiration for our art and for our home

Swords disguised as sticks

fend off any foe challenging our

right to dream

while shaggy magicians

boldly defend our

innocence and truths gained

Skilled in magic we discover:

Peanut butter kisses awaken new reserves

of power and energy

while bath time mermaids and water nymphs

cleanse away the day’s debris

We learn the alchemy of chocolate and spices

creates a potion bestowing

radiant smiles,

soulful sighs

and infectious laughter

Animal tracks offer

clues to the lessons and medicine

and songs provide protective charms that

call and unite our tribe in

Love and trust

Wild dances are our way of honoring the passion

of those fairy warriors who went before us,

Infusing our lives with the energy of

Possibility

Power

And personal expression

Moonlight and starlight illuminate

our dream selves who

race cars

dance with bears

travel to the far off spaces and places on our maps

and leap like kangaroos

effortless and powerfully

over all difficulties

that arise

All this

-and more -

we have uncovered

And the greatest magic of them all?

The realization that as often

as we forget

there is opportunity

For us to remember

And until we do,

there are always

Warm hands to transfer

the courage and curiosity

necessary for seekers of hope and dreams

Now do you see?

Magick speaks a private language

that is understood only

in the chambers of the heart

Are you willing to learn?