tiny magic ... and tears ...

For the second year in a row, I've put out a hummingbird feeder in our garden. While the bird books say that the ruby-throated is a seasonal visitor, I was skeptical. I mean, the winds alone would blast the little fellows clear across the state! Never mind the vast stretches of fields and prairie that would seem inhospitable for these tiny creatures.

So I am continually amazed when I look out my back door and spy a hummingbird flitting about the feeder. There had been one female coming to feed although sightings were sparse. A couple of times I've almost put the feeder away, certain no other birds would be visiting. But then I mix up a new batch of sugar water and hang it out, just in case. 

Yesterday I was pretty certain it was well-past the hummingbird season.  The tomatoes are surrendering the last of their fruit and the mint plants are looking rather leggy; summer is making her exit. I was hunting about the thicket of dying vines, reaching for a lone tomato buried deep within when something buzzed by me. I looked up and discovered I was in the middle of two hummingbirds engaged in territorial battle over my feeder!  

I believe they must be fueling up for their journey south as my feeder has been hopping with hummingbird action for the past 24-hours. This morning there is a chill in the air, a preview of Autumn, and the normally shy birds have stayed on the feeder even when I have wandered outside for a closer look. 

This display of hummingbird magic has done much to revive my own flagging spirits. I am not a hot weather person, so I find the lingering heat draining. I am very much aware of a kind of closure coming to this, my year of mourning for my mother.  The number of days when I can think back to a year ago and remember her with me, those days are dwindling to a hand full. A year ago she wasn't sleeping and could not find any relief to her exhaustion.  

A year ago, I had no idea goodbye would be coming so soon.

Today, I am aware of the impending departure of the hummingbirds. I have been captivated by their antics this morning. One female sits off to the side, on the garden fence, waiting to ambush any intruders. At least three have stormed the feeder and she attacks. This final feeding frenzy feels like a last gift of the season. 

This past year I feel I have felt quiet and even more intensely and inwardly focused than is my norm.  Much is happening beyond the space of words and action. I believe I have been re-rooting myself. Or acclimating my roots to new soil, to a world where my mother's physical being is absent. It has been lonely work, but I never really feel alone. Days like today, the hummingbird wings give lift to my spirits. Yesterday, I worked with the horses and felt their earthiness anchor my soul to this patch of prairie that is my home. 

This morning I learned another sweet being slipped over the fence to that other realm. I actually uttered out loud "oh no!" and sobbed when I read that Stevie, a resident of Apifera Farm, had died. 

I had read about Stevie on Katherine's blog, sketched him numerous times in the online class Capturing The Essence, and I finally got to meet him - twice! - on the farm. 

After my tears had abated, I admit to being grumpy and downright fed up. I mean, Death has been claiming far too many bright lights in my world this past year.  But then I could hear my mother laughing over me weeping for two old goats. Just as the hummingbirds so magically flew into my world, so too have the beings that I have loved best. Without having to do much of anything - just by being here and yes, having a little sweetness or sugar water at the ready helps - love comes in. It flies, it hobbles, it slides up beside me to nuzzle my sleeve or lick my palm. It comes when I am relaxed and open. It comes when I stop searching for it.

And just as quickly, it moves on. But if I have learned anything, it is that loves always returns. Just in new and unexpected forms. 

 I cannot hold onto those whom I love indefinitely. To grasp or grab, to demand or tantrum shatters the magic and sends love scrambling for cover. 

our new love, Beau

But I can be held by love. I can dwell in love which is to say, I choose to keep my heart  open, welcoming all the seasons of loving, knowing that the soil of my soul is enriched through the process of love welcomed and love released. 

"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? 

updating my bucket list

It's not so much a bucket list as it is my list of "things I want to squeeze hard while I can" list. (The squeezing bit à la John O'Donohue, as in "giving life a good squeeze" which really captures the essence of fearless living/joy warriorship, don't you think?)

It not so much about accomplishments, although yes, I am proud of those:  traveling abroad to study; passing the nightmarish German translation test for graduate school; completing my master's degree (a feat of hoop jumping more than anything); wrangling the paperwork of two countries to adopt my girl (massive hoop jumping and other leaps of faith);  yoga teacher training (mind and body bending) to name a few.

There are the adventures - the wild leaps of daring and trust - that I am glad I followed even when everything in me screamed what are you thinking?!: river rafting with a healthy fear of falling overboard (a week in the wilderness, the husband oaring his own boat, our ten year anniversary trip - a bonding or breaking experience); Outward Bound in Joshua Tree National Park (no tents, sleeping outdoors with freezing temperatures, rock climbing and rappelling for the first time and only 2 pairs of undies for 1 sweaty/dirty week); 

 

from the vault: circa 1996 - look at that pack!

traveling to the other side of the world to meet visit someone I'd only known online (New Zealand certainly being a bucket list destination and a dream come true); quitting my job with no real back up plan (having experienced life plotted, planned and executed I knew from experience that doesn't always work out); and the list goes on.

What I am reviewing is my list of 100 things I want to do this year.  Do you make such lists?  If you haven't you really should.  The first 20 or so items are usually the epic ones like visit New Zealand or Create an Online Course but filling in spots 21 through 100 forces you to dig deep.  Digging deep is when you are more likely to hit gold.  

Skinny Dipping was on my list a few years ago.  My Squam sisters can verify the accomplishment of this feat (and it is a night I can vividly recall and rejoice in.)  Wearing more skirts has brought about subtle changes I haven't begun to plumb, but I know the costume has eased me into integrating my feminine self more fully. Sewing an Apron - well, I've made three!  Snow sledding has opened up a side of mothering my girl is happy I've embraced.

This past weekend marked another feat of daring and adventure embraced and survived.  Indeed, it involve much squeezing and singing along with slicing, rolling, and dreaming.  

Inspired by Donkey Dream: A Love Story of Pie and Farm and compelled by our mutual passion for pie, Cowgirl and I baked our first fully homemade pie.  Not just any pie, but Apple Pie for Dreamers (recipe by Katherine Dunn from Donkey Dream)

But before slicing the apples, hum or sing to them. It doesn't matter what song you choose. The slices will appreciate this kind gesture and it will lull them into a long sleep.

- Katherine Dunn, excerpt from Donkey Dream: A Love Story of Pie & Farm

It was one amazing pie.  

It lasted only two meals (half a pie per three people with allowance for small slivers of pie for breakfast) but the memories will linger long after we licked the sweet cinnamon goodness from our fingers.

These are the moments I want to gather ... editing my bucket list to allow for more such activities, ones that are more than just photo-worthy, but filled with memories rich and nourishing ... 

memories of singing to apples, fingers dusted with flour leaving their mark upon counter top, pie crust, a loved-ones cheek ... of tasting sweetness and knowing her hands helped ushering that goodness into our world and onto our plates; of long, lazy days spent laughing, creating, dancing, being.

Life sweet and savored ... every bite, every bit.

What might you add to your list?

we're thinking peach pie is next ...

and the winner is ...

Heather Dakota!

Thank you everybody for your comments, for sharing the link with others, and for virtually visiting Apifera Farm.  The story of the Misfits continues and I hope that like me, you enjoy the benefits of supporting such heart-centered work.  Thank YOU Katherine for being such an inspiration!  And more importantly, for delivering to the barnyard all our messages, care packages (cookies for a donkey, sunscreen for a pig), and love.

With a little help from my friends = *Give-away!*

Winter break is over ... we had a one-day extension due to excessive wind chills (as if any of us could forget, it is Winter!) and now it is business as usual.

Well, not exactly.

I find it vexing that the impulse of Winter - slowing down (who's kidding whom? total inertia!), inward focus, deep rest and quiet - contrasts sharply with the energies of a new year and the directive to start anew with projects, programs, regimens for wellness and health.  I know I am struggling over here to emerge out of my cocoon of blankets, sweaters and hot beverages. And while part of me is attempting to embrace (with frozen fingers) this time for reflection, deep listening and receiving of guidance another part of me is crying out for rescue from slothdom.  The mind is willing, but the body heavy and slow to awake.

Such is the time when I draw upon the light and inspiration of friends near and far.  Seeking sparks of life and energy in others words, work, and life examples, slowly slowly slowly I feel the crusty shell of ice and inertia fracturing, my being ever so slowly moving, awakening.  I cannot even begin to name all who lift me up (you may not even know it ... but yes, that dead weight you feel you are dragging just may be me clinging to your back) but I hope you/they know.  

I want to honor and acknowledge one of my litter bearers.  When my creative sparks ebbs, when my faith in the goodness of the world is tested, I turn to the denizens of Apifera farm and their mistress and voice, Katherine Dunn.  

gestural drawings inspired by Stevie (part of "Capturing the Essence" ecourse)

Writer, artist, channel for the stories of each member of her farm, I discover upon each virtual visit breadcrumbs of magic, wonder, love and celebration of both life and death, as well as the gifts of everyday.

Moose sock puppet (left) inspired by project in Creative Illustration Workshop (see below link)

In the past few years I have leaned heavily upon Katherine's instruction in art (her wonderful book Creative Illustration Workshop for Mixed-Media Artists and her online course Capturing the Essence) as well as her blogpost chronicling life on her where she nurtures and shares the stories of the goats, pigs, cats, geese and donkeys that she rescues.  Theirs are stories of survival, of the endurance of love despite pain, illness and death, and the immense courage and gift of standing clear-eyed in the midst of life's hardest lessons. 

Many of my own favorite pieces have been inspired by Apifera and the art of Katherine Dunn.

 



I want to thank Katherine and Apifera for all the intangible treasures of art and love I zealously gather up and hoard for emotional lean times. I think the very best way to express my gratitude would be to pay forward the gift of inspiration by offering Katherine's latest book Misfits of Love: Healing Conversations in the Barnyard as a special New Year giveaway prize to one of you, my dear readers, who support and sustain me so generously and lovingly. (If you visit the book's link, you can hear a book reading by the author as well as view selected page spreads.) 


 

sample page spread from Misfits of Love, used with permission from author

I feel particularly proud of this book because in a sense, it was a collaborative effort.  Not only between the author and the animals whose stories she shares, but with her audience who supported her quest to bring this book to life, eventually through self publishing and fund raisers. 
 

I am fortunate enough to say I had a small part in supporting this project.  It gives me hope to see others supporting art, voting with dollars to sustain a lifestyle devoted to loving care, creative expression and the power of stories to inspire and ignite imagination and acts of compassion and kindness.

And Play.  My favorite aspect of Katherine's work is the strong element of playfulness and invention that takes me back to the imagination I knew as a child.  Imagination that knows no limits.  Imagination that sees possibilities overlooked by tired, adult minds. 

But also there is the child's ability to hold both the hard truths within a deeper understanding of the magic and healing such lessons bring.

 "He [Giacomo, the donkey] died with my arms around him feeling kindness. His grave is now a place of comfort for visitors, as well as for me.

I truly believe Giacomo knew he was in a safe place where he was ready to rest. And I believe he was meant to rest here. He showed me you can trust even after you've been hurt.  I will never forget this creature, and he often comes to me in paintings."

(excerpt from Misfits of Love, used with permission from the author) 

I have one autographed copy of Misfits of Love that I will be giving away as my token of gratitude and as an act of sending light and warmth into our Winter world.  I will select a name at random (perhaps Sock Moose will draw the name out of a hat?) next Sunday, January 12.  To enter your name into the drawing simply leave a comment here, telling me who is your favorite denizen of Apifera farm.  If you are unfamiliar with Katherine's blog, then lucky you!  Follow the link and scroll through past blog posts to discover the many colorful and beautiful characters that call Apifera home.  I don't know if I could single out a favorite, but certainly Aunt Bea is a goat who stole my heart along with a more recent member of the barnyard, Moose. (of course, right?) And I am a sucker for the back end of a very photogenic Pig named Rosie. 

Comments will close on Sunday night and I will announce the winner on Monday.  Be sure I have a way to contact you. (If you have problems commenting, you can email me at: Lishofmann(at)novia(dot)net.)  Share this post on Facebook (let me know!) and your name will be entered twice.  

And bonus prize: if you are the lucky winner and choose to continue to pay it forward by making a contribution to Apifera  I will make for you a personalized, embroidered bookmark to accompany your prize  (Please note: Apifera is not a 501c registered nonprofit organization. But donations are welcomed: "While you can rest assured that each animal will be cared for, fed and vetted as necessary out of our own funds, we are happy when kind people want to slip us a little money to help defray the costs to maintain the barn animals we take on for life." - Katherine Dunn)

Good luck! And help spread the magic! 

xo