Friday, November 28, 2014

"Wear Your Love Like Heaven." ~Donovan

I am thankful for this year, strangely, exquisitely, so.  I love who has come into my life and love how some have left.  I want only those who wear love like heaven, for though that means many different things to many different people, I know that the people I invite into my life live with love. 
Why do we experience pain?  Why do some enter the faerytale?  I cannot tell you.  I know this, though, we are all connected by the red thread.  We give and thus, receive.  I sit with sunshine in my eyes today because I have art and poetry in my heart.  We can never understand why we are brought together.  I think, though, that all we can do is to be heavenly in our treatment of the hearts and muses in our lives.  We must wear our love like heaven.  I love that this new day is showing me so much.
I love this quote... it is a glimpse at how we are the only ones who can realize what we treasure and what is heavenly, no one else can tell us and this is perfect...

You may have noticed that the books you really love are bound together by a secret thread. You know very well what is the common quality that makes you love them, though you cannot put it into words: but most of your friends do not see it at all, and often wonder why, liking this, you should also like that. Again, you have stood before some landscape, which seems to embody what you have been looking for all your life; and then turned to the friend at your side who appears to be seeing what you saw -- but at the first words a gulf yawns between you, and you realise that this landscape means something totally different to him, that he is pursuing an alien vision and cares nothing for the ineffable suggestion by which you are transported. Even in your hobbies, has there not always been some secret attraction which the others are curiously ignorant of -- something, not to be identified with, but always on the verge of breaking through, the smell of cut wood in the workshop or the clap-clap of water against the boat's side? Are not all lifelong friendships born at the moment when at last you meet another human being who has some inkling (but faint and uncertain even in the best) of that something which you were born desiring, and which, beneath the flux of other desires and in all the momentary silences between the louder passions, night and day, year by year, from childhood to old age, you are looking for, watching for, listening for? You have never had it. All the things that have ever deeply possessed your soul have been but hints of it -- tantalising glimpses, promises never quite fulfilled, echoes that died away just as they caught your ear. But if it should really become manifest -- if there ever came an echo that did not die away but swelled into the sound itself -- you would know it. Beyond all possibility of doubt you would say "Here at last is the thing I was made for". We cannot tell each other about it. It is the secret signature of each soul, the incommunicable and unappeasable want, the thing we desired before we met our wives or made our friends or chose our work, and which we shall still desire on our deathbeds, when the mind no longer knows wife or friend or work. While we are, this is. If we lose this, we lose all. ~ C.S. Lewis The Problem of Pain
See me on facebook for the video that expresses more about wearing love like heaven.   

Wednesday, November 26, 2014

Somerset Studio Gallery Spotlight Artist? Wee!

Even more reasons to be grateful!!! The Somerset Studio Gallery magazine that features three of my paintings as a Spotlight artist came, today!!!! I am so thankful for such an honor! Stampington and Co. brings such exquisite fun and joy to the world! Feeling blessed!
This magazine will be on stands in Barnes and Noble, next week! Enjoy a feast for the eyes with such a glorious showing of some unbelievable artists!
This first painting is called, "The Present Tent."
The one next to it is called, "Mending the Circus Heart."
The last one is called, "She was Content."
Thank-you Stampington and Co.!!

So much...

What I am grateful for... My children, those I love, those who inspire and support me, art, poetry, picnics, good food, and clean water, gardening, bringing blooms to life, hard work, blankets, green grass, cupcake papers, old furniture, and soft light, snuggles and breezes, porches (Nate saw this just now and added, sneezes! "It rhymes, Mom!") I love vintage-looking heels and pixie cuts, black and charcoal gray clothes, and books, books, and more books, and Stampington and Co.
Happy Holidays!
Be thankful.
Love is everywhere.

Tuesday, November 25, 2014

The Id and the Idiom...

"This really speaks to me."  I have heard that all of my days since I started expressing myself online.  Blogging and social media posts are my journey to myself.  They are a portal that opens me up.  I allow myself to be soft here.  Life is hard.  The inspiration that awakens my senses I allow on facebook and in Blogland because it is an expression of my Id that just must be freed.  When I journal it speaks to me, too, but, of course for different reasons. When I express myself online it is shining light in the dark tunnel of why's and how's and what's.  The id is the part of the psyche, residing in the unconscious, that is the source of instinctive impulses that seek satisfaction in accordance with the pleasure principle and are modified by the ego and the superego before they are given overt expression. 
When someone says something really speaks to me, whether it is one of my posts or my art pieces, what that person is saying is, "You made me feel."  What he means when he says that to me is that, "I took his hand and led him to a place he had forgotten he knew."

I have always journaled. 
When Winter Solstice came I would take a Yule log wrapped in all the little findings of the year, a ribbon found in the grass on a warm night, a silver foil, evidence that a kiss opened in that spot by the light of the church near my house, or anything else that represents that time when you realize life is a wonder, and then I would light the log and set my year's journal into the fire. 
Audible gasp... every time I tell that to anyone who writes. 
I know you don't understand, but, I did.
I was going through things that hurt so deeply and other things that meant so much, that to allow there to be dust on that form of expression... to tuck something of my heart into a drawer, for what? for later?
didn't make sense, to me.
The senses are what remind us, re-mind us.
I give myself to myself and have not created a journal to burn for a year now.
I didn't realize, though, what was happening.
By opening to others, again, here, and on facebook, I am finding it is all so very kind and sensual and mutual, this love of life and the way it can feel.
Want to know the secret, the difference?  I may have taken your hand at times, as a reminder that you are beautiful, but, what I have found is that really what I have allowed by opening up online is that you touch my soul and you took my hand and helped me see, again.
Flower photo by Amy Sperry Faldet

Sunday, November 23, 2014


Even if no one believes you, believes in you, I saw you fly.  I saw you feel the lilt of inspiration's bellows, take a step of courage, placing each foot on a word over the chasm of ShouldIShouldn'tI, and believe in...
Take heart, write and soar...
I only opened the door.

Seeing the blades of grass, seeing the clouds shimmer in morning light, telling of fairy glades...
That is what you're meant for.

I was thinking last night about those who are and aren't artists or poets.  In my mind, I never need to be rich or successful or acclaimed to feel like an artist.
I can be sitting on my porch when I am 80 and read a poem that touched my soul, and I would be rich beyond measure. 
To live deeply, unfettered by others' tight, manic, grasps, should be everyone's right.  You spread wings to lift your spirits, to lift those of others.
People who don't write or create, or appreciate writers and artists, have manacles.  I don't mean scientists without an artistic tendency are chained to a bolder, no, because if they are creating, dreaming, experimenting, they are alive.  If the accountant gets joy out of creating a perfect ledger and walks out of his office happy that he has made someone's life easier, and holds out his arms for his toddlers to jump into, his life is poetic.
When I garden or teach, that is the closest thing to feeling like I live an artistic life when I am not painting or writing.  I love taking care.  I love cherishing.  I love helping there be room to grow.
I see people fly, rarely, you know.
I see people with their head in their hands, more often.
I saw you, felt you, realize your wings existed, and I loved watching it all unfurl.
Wherever life takes you, keep them out, let those wings stretch, everyday, for me, for you, for all of those who know you flew.

Saturday, November 22, 2014

Friday, November 21, 2014

What is Magic?

"There’s only one corner of the universe you can be certain of improving and that’s your own self." —ALDOUS HUXLEY
This quote and the long one about to come is from Wayne Dyer's Real Magic.  For me, they resonate.
“An individual remains an individual, not only from birth to death, but actually long before birth until long, long after death…. We never lose our individuality; we never lose our uniqueness…. Each of us is individual, and each of us has individual qualities, each of us has individual talents and gifts, and these are not to be surrendered in marriage. Therefore in a spiritual marriage there is not bondage but freedom, but this is not true in human marriage. It is true in spiritual marriage; where both recognize that in marrying they are setting each other free. This is the only thing I have discovered in thirty years of this work that will make possible such things as happy marriages, peaceful marriages, successful marriages; the ability to set the other free and each live with his own individual life, and yet share with each other without demanding…. Neither husband nor wife has any rights; they have only the privilege of giving, but they have no right to demand anything of the other.”
He continues...
"According to the illustrious magician Harry Houdini, magic is achieved through illusion. A simple example is an illusion created by using smoke and mirrors. The illusion is called magic simply because it appears to be unexplainable. Late in his career, though, Houdini alluded to something that he experienced which he called "real magic." He apparently had acquired the ability to produce results that were in fact unexplainable. These magical results could not be accounted for even as the product of illusion.
I chose the title of this book because I became attracted to the paradox inherent in those two words, real magic. You, like most people, are probably convinced that if something is real it cannot be magic, and if it is magic it cannot be real. However, it is my belief that when we get caught in this paradox we are inhibited from experiencing our magical dimensions. I believe that we experience real magic when we transcend the paradox and that the transcendent view encompasses the experience of real magic as indeed very real, and also magical."

I appreciate your patience... it is, of course, really bad form to have two such long quotes right in the beginning of a piece, especially, a piece titled, "What is Magic?" for it sort of slows down the momentum, doesn't it?
I am slowing down the momentum.
The idea of magic in relationships, in life, in emotion is something that should be pondered slowly.
I mean it.
It is true, though.
People always say, "Where's the magic?"  or  "We lost the magic."  or the worst, "Magic isn't real."
You bring the magic.

If the magic is lost, you lost it.  If the "we" in your life is no longer magical, you must remember two things... You bring magic with you and second, if you don't give it to that significant person, anymore, you must ask yourself to do so or to leave so that you can give to yourself or someone else.
So, what is magic?
Besides knowing that you bring magic with you, magic, in itself, is a mystery.
As it should be...
But, here is what magic feels like to me.
Magic is when you are happy enough to wiggle your toes before you notice you are wiggling them.
Magic is when you understand
that a boat in a sparkling stream surrounded by light and wisteria
is not sitting empty
it is sitting full of potential.
Magic is being inspired.
I give inspiration.
I have been told I always have.
I guess I effervesce
even when quietly reading
or sitting on a bench in the city.
Each person
a magic.
Real magic comes from seeing it in yourself.
We give of ourselves to others and they receive some love.
But, that is because we already must value our magic.
Not theirs.
You can appreciate their love, receive it, understand it,
no one gives you Real Magic.
You bring the magic with you and it creates
to open
so that you can breathe the bracing, fresh, life all around you.
to yourself.
that reveal where things got dodgy or blissful or essential.
And what I am here to say, today, is this, only you create this magic, by yourself, for yourself.
Remembering this makes you able to give all sorts of sparkles to your life,
I mean, I am talking the sparklers on a hot, dark, July night that remind you that you are spark.
Only you.