I watch and marvel at the sweetness of a child's play...
Remembering that all we really need in life is an active imagination, love, warmth from food & sleep. The rest will work it's way through.
With the exhausting move, feeling unbalanced from no work (artist at work), & the need to feel settled... the grandchildren bring a centered balance that is much needed.
Dear sweet friends knocking at the door, e-mails arriving, and yes even Facebook at times (though it's on the back burner as compared to face to face).
Blessed we are upon this earth, new ones arrive, our elders breathing into their golden years, stories being shared around the fires, snow sprinkles upon the decks.
I wish for all of you great warmth, love & joy of others this season.
May imagination fill your soul with sparks of joy & memories from long ago.
I am considering the next women's retreat. I have found a spot to hold this incredible event. The link is below. If there is interest please send me a message on my website below as well. If we have the numbers we will entertain the notion of gathering once again.
Wrong-doings, hurts, sorrows, indiscretions...apologies. I've had a few and created quite a few. The past haunts. Mistakes made, words said....undercurrents of deep love always exist. For twenty beautiful expressions said...one expression (without thinking) dissolves the twenty well-meaning thought out expressions of love. Humans are complex.
Movement forward, reflection... I love aging. It treats me well. Youth...it was harsh on me, scared me and left me exhausted. Raising children...that was icing on the cake of youth. Youth allowed play time with them... Aging would have allowed wisdom and silence more. Just keep going, just keep plugging... I'm in love with the ones I've helped create. Their turn to try & do their best for the future lineage.
Digging, excavating...allowing time to creep into our bones and information to disperse through our system. We all come from somewhere... lines of colors, shapes, sizes & varieties... thus spice of life.
Differences, often, produce disharmony. Competitive spirits exist within us... thrusting forward demanding recognition... but all lines are of value and provide the great diversity of the world we live in.
While digging we realize the ponderous lines have come through many hardships... floods, washed out coulees, jagged cliff edges, sun-parched lands. The struggles have weakened & strengthened the lines of color. Clinging together for strength, lines have intermingled resulting in harmonious new colors & possibilities. Planting occurred and the power of new seedlings provides hope in a world ever-changing.
Dedicated to the immigrants who filled Montana with diversity in the 1890's.
I was fortunate to guide & teach an art camp at the Sculpture in the Wild, http://www.sculptureinthewild.com, in Lincoln Montana. Our theme was "Digging up Roots & Planting Color". We studied immigration and the beautiful ripple effect it had on our state. This same ripple, in beautiful lines of color, affects us today. Through food, games, crafts, work, and etc. Mixing, mingling, & blending occurred.
The lesson continued to grow as we discussed our connections to the international artists from all walks of life. We are connected in one form or another. Beautiful lines of diversity.
I'm filled with pride to live in a state of beauty and old values. My hopes & prayers would be acceptance of all lines, shapes, colors...
There is an ambience to a windbreak, created by humans, protecting & providing. Hidden from the world, I rested among the branches leaning into the comfort of trees. Wings filled the air with flitting sounds, beaks filled the air with chatter and music. Sunlight filtered in allowing daydreams to persist. Sitting quietly allowing rabbits the curious moment of testing me with their nose and viewing with sideways glance. My granddaughter does this same curious movement. Girl of the earth sniffs the air and views her grandmother with a quick sideways look before scampering in all directions.
It is good to exist hidden from view. Times are troubling, windbreaks are needed...sniffing the air for safety and comfort..
Using my hands is comforting. I believe it was comforting for the father to build windbreaks... protecting & providing.
Perhaps the earth is in need of more windbreaks, strong windbreaks to protect us from cruel words, from bullies who persist. Where we can listen, smell and cast a sideways glance.
Some thoughts to consider. I ran an art house in Lincoln Montana for 4 years and was often times curious about the energy that existed in the art house. It was warm, inviting, open to all despite race, religion, political views, etc. It was meant to represent how I was raised in central Montana, Laredo (near Havre) to be exact. We were very open to company that came calling at our home. We lived in rural, and I mean rural Montana. We welcomed all peeps despite opinions or views as long as you could get along with one another over coffee (or beverages) and mom's homemade baked goods. Believe me homemade baked goods creates quite a euphoric atmosphere. Another story will have to be about mom's homemade cinnamon rolls after sledding! So as the art (coffee) house evolved I realized that the comfort level produced the atmosphere conducive to educating the public about art. Relaxed and warm + inviting = ahhh, fill me in on your teachings! I believe that this is an important element in Montana. Give me your tired, give me your starved, give me your weak... let's provide them some understanding and friendship. Hospitality and art education! Love to all of you.
Talus has extracted itself from my headwall, trickled down the front of me, forming a fractured crusty protalus rampart at my root system. There are moments of realization that removal of this accumulative talus is crucial to my well-being. It is accumulating due to stress, overloads, change...and that is the time to... simply...release. Now what does one do with the accumulation of talus, or scree, at your root system... the base of your body? These broken parts provide hazardous travels and often times sharp barriers to overcome. All in due time, life softens the edges of the talus and they become memories. Memories and hillsides where green begins to sprout, where pikas & marmots scamper, and the butterflies land...remembering as my headwall ages & trickles more talus.
My inspiration for this writing came from "Home Ground: Language for an American Landscape" Barry Lopez, Editor Debra Gwartney, Managing Editor