Father to the See

For one moment, Mother and herselves drained out kindly. For to show. She ceased to glimmer, and for a moment silenced her violins, her light fiddling. And all her colors did pause. And upon this curtain that is life, pulled it back so to be empty. In chorus behind her were our Fathers singing, singing, singing. His song: a great rain given to Mother for to weave his veins (so long ago and now), Father we ask to find, there behind the Greatness worshiped, there was He: tender, having cleared many ways, having felt for all the journey. He has seen too much to be seen too much. Would he have us be with him? I have been the path that you were born upon. I made what the way is. And full through me you first come, and meet me singing our song at home again.

Baby Lambs

Ever miss your friends? I know I do. All the time! Thankfully there is presently a gift in my home. It's Aja!
Yesterday we visited Jo and Kirby's farm- it was maple syrup and lamb-visiting day. These babies were just born a few hours prior! Can you see their tiny little selves down there in the hay?
Mother wasn't too keen on our visit. But oh! I had to hold her little baby! She's a dream of softy sweetness. Tight downy curls and a tender little belly...I just heard from some old friends in St Augustine this weekend, and they requested the Waiting on my Friends painting. I'll drive her to Hartford tomorrow for some crating up and shipping off. Bon voyage, m'little birdie!
Ridiculously enough, I'm headed to New York on Wednesday. In Williamsburg near Aja's place there is a perfume gallery called "i hate perfume". Wednesday we're going to smell up the place! You can take a virtual visit if you want, here's their website. I was saying last night I'd really like to be into perfume and smells more. Aja said you're the one who lives your life, that's your choice. Now isn't that a good point!And then! Wednesday night after smelling perfume it's to a workshop with Parashakti and her teacher. I think we're going to sing? Steve and I met Parashakti in Arizona, loved her straightaway, and she said to come to this night at the Open Center in NYC. I said I would. That's what I'm doin! If you're in the neighborhood, please come too.

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Otherwise around here it's sorting and cleaning. Letting go of clothes. Slips. Slips, for example. Should one keep a slip on hand? No. No, I refuse!

Back in the Saddle Again

Howdy Doo, Doodles! I'm back home at ClearPoint. Hope you're feeling right at home too!

While we were away one of my wishes came true. A whole lot of moss grew in the backyard! It's a soft squishy carpet beneath the elm tree. Last summer I was eying up the deer's bed on the trail- the deer have this massive mattress of moss that they sleep on at night. I layed down on it once, but got a little grossed out since deer aren't that antiseptically inclined. And I wished, "O to have my own bed of moss..." and here it be! It's a great spot to hang out.

Steve and I paid our respects to the evergreens- such regal creatures. On our travels I read about pleasing trees with presents of jewelry; giving them twinkly gifts to swing from their branches. I never even thought of it before! That's what I'm going to do.


Winter was just wonderful. All my family and friends are healthy and bright! I feel well-hydrated by the Visiting and Hospitality Season. Now it's on to spring sprouts! It's project central! April is Clean*Lean*Sing Month, and Steve and I are going to be giving free weekly tele-classes on decluttering, cleansing, and beautifying. He's working on the details now in his office, so I'll post a link later. I'm making an "April Cleansing blog" with neat info bits for your perusal. I'll post that link in a few days too.

It's also literally time to get sprouting: poppies, kale, roses, parsley and stuff! All of the baby lavender plants died this winter. We had to shut down the house while away, and they suffered for it. I expected to find everything dead, but my yellow rose bush is still alive! Alive! Alive! There's 10 ancient rose seeds to sprout in an envelope in the refrigerator- oo I hope they do!

All Ways!

Green Yew

A Blessed Spring Time for Us All!

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Love is Lovely

Green & Yew

Here is the Yew Tree. Lovely name, huh? They're also called Death Trees! Dying to Yew Consciousness! haha! Yews possess a number of bucket-kickin' qualities that've earned them the death tree title. For one, every part of the yew tree is poisonous to humans. Even sanding a board of yew can produce poisonous dust. They were used in bow-making during the middle ages as a crafty way of killing other human beings. I made up a new slogan: "Middle Ages! If it's disturbing, we did it."

The yew has an incredible ability to die and live at the same time. One trunk will decay and within the same root bolt a new trunk will grow. This redeeming habit creates space in between the growing trunks. You could make a home inside an old yew! If the old yew didn't kill you, it'd be fun! But who am I kidding- living in old you's is always toxic!

Yews can often be found in Irish cemeteries. That's what people say. Yews actually say that cemeteries find themselves a yew. And the same for churches! Churches... well let's see... Patrick did all his gallivanting around Ireland in the 400's. That would mean that galumpety churches would be as old as 1600 years by now. But want to know the best fact of all? The yews are older than the churches! Some yew trees in Ireland are over 4,000 years old. People liked to build churches in the middle of yew tree groves. Fairly enough, churchyards have given old yews protection over the years.

Want to know something even cooler? Know what's been discovered about these old trees? The old ones were planted on blind springs beneath the surface of the earth! Want to know something even cooler? The Druids planted circles of yews to mark those unseen springs! If somebody asked me what I did with my life and my answer was that I planted circles of trees that would grow for 4,000 years, I would have done a fist pump for my own awesomeness. Yews emit a vapor in hot weather that Druids would inhale for visions.

What great people. Druids! If I'd been busy with dew and sacred springs and was then faced with dingbat Vikings equipped with axes and gold lust, I would have also turned myself into a fairy and hidden in the other world. But! Now it's all hands on deck! Who knows what old posse is back in the grove. Back in the grooooooove!

A portal to the Underworld, yew say?

(I read this great article by Glennie Kindred to learn about the yew!)

You know, I find the patience necessary to draw a tree... I barely have enough- I've been fidgeting a lot. Then I wonder... what would it feel like to grow into a tree? Woah!

Handsome the Dog

On a dock on the ocean- they'll even visit you there!

The open beings at the bottom of the bucket have a loose-jointed smile. Getting especially pretty, I hypothesize, from a single act spanned across epochs. Pelican puffs up laughing, "I have swallowed one entire section of the universe!" She points to her belly, "Composed one half of twinkling cosmos, I am!" And when going by ones like that we like to stare- gosh you are pretty- what is it? There was Handsome!

Can you give me a kiss that goes to my internals?
The Eternals?

Handsome, yes. Black dog! He is. Big White Dog walks with him always quiet and smiling. A hug from him, that's a present. Quetzal floats around in fog world and says, "Meet my friend. He is midnight blue of the silver streaked quiet sky, writing unseen words shining in sunless caves. His rubies are made of sanguine nectar, clotted clean." Handsome sniffs my leg with all his freedom. A bowl of sparkling pears are a halo around his head. Don't you wonder what he ate that day?

Amber flecks on his lips. Golden pier in a old wasteland, sprouting clovers. Remembrance of someone dear. I think, "I should do something nice for you." He says, "Oh please won't you pet my head?" That makes me happy- I would have done that anyway! And then on the dock he licks all the toes, till everyone smelled of rose. A ruffle behind him and out peeks giraffes running with diamond chandelier earrings, french horns of rainbow squirrels, the driftwood we put in your hair, basil stained into our palms.

And he singing howls, "Swallow comet creeks, vaulted ceilings of galaxies... a twinkle in the wrinkle of tiiiiiiiiiiiime. Shine on, you crazy diamonds!" Beauty here be unfairly given to tomorrow (silly). Beautiful is neither a feature, nor a leader. She could be trade winds, so let loose the sails as you grow up. Would you like some tea?

The water churns below us, black molasses in heat. Wind brews cappuccino, but you could call it frothy beer if you like. A field of pineapples floated across the water. He said, "That's my Father crying happy tears of pineapple juice again."

Isn't it tempting to make a dream with rain?

Wayback Machine

I've been sorting through my old closet at Dad's. I said to Kate, "You know- I'm finally getting rid of everything in that closet!" She said, "Why? Cause you're 29 years old and it's about time?"

Umm...

Yes?


Here's some of my old pieces of artwork! It's like a timeline...

5 yrs

A portrait of Buggy with one of his old friends.

Bunny. 2nd grade, I think. It comes with a poem on the back:

Owno

I don't know
who I am
am I Marrisa
am I Katie
am I Monica
am I Kimmy
am I Shane
am I butter
milk please
tell me who
am I am I yes
your putingpop

This was one of my first pieces in high school. It's Nana and Pop-Pop's old basement bathroom.

Self-Portrait at 15 years. Pissed off?
What?! What would make you say that?

16 years- Mom and Katie from a photograph

16 years- that's a sketch from Velasquez's painting. I began to see then that making a realistic image took practice and attention.

Sometime in high school.

21 yrs. This is the only piece of art I made for myself in college. It's one of my favorites.

Love the View of Heaven, But I'd Rather Be with You

I did a little writing on our trip. Here's a few nibbles:


I had noticed mostly our family's unconditional definition of love, our failed tries. What I felt instead last night was the intricate key that fit into that lock; a heart signature- the beautiful and specialized application of affection. The way the stained glass guild of Chartres Cathedral created a red that cannot be recreated- its expression was a mastery of that group, and it left with them.


When it comes to intent, Relaxation is Queen, and Trying Hard is Duchess. There's no such thing as silence. There is no such thing as nothingness. Releasing the fast furious waves of a certain frequency, we fall into another wavelength. At first its pulse is so long, slow, and gentle that it seems absent. Is everything dead? It absolutely must be, but somehow patience given to nothingness uncovers an aliveness. An aliveness of such immense pulse that it's called subtle.

A kind of living sensitivity- I imagine that when the anhingas spread their wings to the sun- I imagine they are both sensing the ancient heartbeat, and embracing it.

Born at the Right Time

Black Diamonds and Pearls

Remember that old sunshine?

To eat crisp apples underneath the trees- together! Every drop of juice well-educated. The intelligence of it all: the red earth, the green earth. Turning the corner of that familiar place, memories spring up like water. All the time that has passed. Wait, has it? The feeling of being woken up by the songs of the singing birds- could this be a new song? Please keep singing.

I want us to talk about so many things! But how do we speak, really?

If I could twirl that little string of gold around my finger and ask it to move like living dancing mercury the way it loves to- making winging monkeys with stars on their heads and bejeweled frogs that lick flowers- I would like to do that with you. I would, I would.