Flow

Just as paint flows upon the canvas, my thoughts flow upon the bedrock of my mind. Painting, creating, imagination and  energy are allowed to flow producing some startling visions and ideas. Overthinking is not allowed. It's never easy, it's complicated and thus messy. Possibilities of mistakes, as well as satisfaction, are endless. Paradox of life you might say. 
As most artists would testify to, I must release and create... everyday. Centering appears after these episodes, but if the creative process refuses to begin... nature calls and fresh air often causes the pump to be primed. Once primed, flow appears. 
So I would add allow your creativity to flow. What ever speaks to you: photography, visual art, dance, song, writing, movement and all fine things... allow it to happen. 
The world needs your gifts (yes, I know you've been told this time and time again). 

Enya Says

Enya Says

Winter, 2019

This correspondence has been overdue. I’m sure you’ve noted my literary absence and missed me. Dang, I’ve missed you as well and I hope this ushers some light into your lives. Possibly because 2019 is about to say “adios” I feel compelled to bring you up to speed on life around this Ranch. This writing is not to be confused with that thing called “ Christmas letter” mailed out to the masses by humans you no longer claim. To the contrary, those of you who read this are members of a highly select and discriminating clan. Doesn’t that make you feel special? Pressing on. We Bosties have a predisposition to summarize, condense, and communicate. After all, it’s all about communication, eh? It’s in this spirit that I share with you.

Although my eyesight and hearing are waning, I know radiance when it’s in front of me. Annie is such. Sometimes as I drift off for my mid-morning nap she comes to me. Floating along, riding the day’s current and holding a fine platter in her hands. On the plater is a biscuit just for me. I thank her, crunch a few nibbles and waft away into my slumber. I’ve observed her doing the same for Clark but he’s not dreaming and his platter contains cookies. Sometimes I covet his platter. 

Clark’s hearing and eyesight are much like mine. He’s OK as long as it’s just the three of us but I’ve noted a hint of verbal repetition when the peeps invade the Ranch. It causes him to be less chatty which I appreciate as I’ve heard it all before. To his credit, he provides me solace and runs interference when the small children come for a visit. Another observation: we canines develop much more rapidly than you neurotypicals. It’s impossible for me to convey to you how wee people disrupt my personal tranquility. Loss of naps, heightened alertness, penetrating squeals, my water dish moved to unfamiliar territory and the litany goes on. However, there is a little something redemptive about their visits. For two days after they go home, I have unlimited access to food particles left behind in their wake. Nonetheless, I shed more fur in one day than I do in a month. 

Looking ahead, I am euphoric that Annie and Clark have decided to return to Tubac this winter. These two manage to get a few things right from time to time. You all know how I feel about Tubac. That spot is just about more than one Boostie can manage. You know, there’s more proximity to the Equator in Tubac. I’ve only heard this and not fully sure what it means. I DO know that the desert sun is good for these aging bones. Of course there’s my old nemesis the lizard as well. Personally, I’ve never caught one but I’d know what to do if I did. In Tubac, the floor tiles are warm and I can nap anywhere. The leftovers are hopped up and the few slurps of mango margarita I’ve stolen are divine. We load up the truck in early February and return to the Ranch in April. I’m doing an on-line course in beginner Spanish in case the “right” Senor Bostie makes an appearance. Be on the lookout for my next letter...in 2020. Happy New Year to all!  Remember to be a nice person. 

Happy trails.

Enya

The Mystery of Friendship

Soft Furry Body

Allowing me to be Fully Myself

I feel your heartbeat

It matches my Own...

Human Perceptions... Expectations

Often Blocking Passage to Authenticity.

Not so through Creature's Eyes

Harmony Resounds

Grateful

for 

Living Souls Who Match My Own. 

Mystery of Friendship - Annie

Seymour's Attitude

Seymour

Seymour was a surly fellow
who could never quite get past being a part of the whole.
The village constructed the notion
that his wings were
addled
and this compromised his attitude...
Perhaps it was so.
He took to opening bottle caps on the pop
at the local grocer, drinking small amounts, replacing the lid,
and sneaking out.
He hoped someday to get caught. 

Art City in Hamilton Montana

Annie Allen, visual artist, featured at Art City. 
Culture Crawl Opening on Friday August 9 5-8 pm. The show may be seen thru September 28.

“Essential Truths: Conversations with Mother Earth"
Artist Statement:
I am forever engaged, expressively with the basic components of life. These include air, water, fire and earth. The components generate conversations and creativity through paint and tools to apply the paint. The conversation is open and illusive, always intriguing and never ending.

Annie Allen

www.annieallenart.com

My Story...

My story... has begun to disappear...
Our stories are important for existence...
Now I begin to recapture, as the lunar eclipse grows near.
My story is one of creative endeavors, expressions of concern for life on the planet... never one of black and white but all that exists in-between.
I have never been able to pinpoint my creative style: my use of shapes, form, colors and line. I just create from my soul... sometimes picking up tidbits of floating ideas, thoughts and energy that appears within my grasp.

My story is in a name given at birth and yet that name was not the one chosen for me to follow. At birth I entered this life as Annette Diane Daniel. I became through word of mouth (instantaneously) Annie Daniel. Annie... everything in a name. Annie meaning Grace. Grace, blessings, seeker of Light. Seeker of story. Daniel... a clan name, a name of honor and strength. With the Daniel name came the love of animals, of land, of earth's treasures (air, water, fire and minerals), of angels that surround us.

My story was always a search, a longing to fit in: of which I discovered (often too late) fitting in was not the key... discovering my soul was key. Given but one mind, one body and one soul I wasted much time trying to become instead of breathing with what is.
Now treasuring life, others...treasuring my gifts by helping others. I still search for how to use these gifts. Marketing the gifts has left a huge hole within my soul. Our pain upon this earth is based upon pleasing the mores of our given communities. I have never quite risen to fit these norms. I would like to use these gifts of mine to sooth others pain, to recapture Mother Earth as I sense her and leave these jewels scattered to the wind and love of others.
This leaves my story unfunded... how does one survive.
Down the rabbit hole I plunge once again. Try as I must to fit in with my odd ways.

Doors have opened...doors have closed. Intuition has played it's part, still I seek.

My story led me to family, two children, many grandchildren, friends, acquaintances, my love...now my husband.

My story takes on a new name, a new chapter.... do I let go of the old one? Changing name which is never easy. Watching the movie "Outlander" as the character Claire takes on 2 husbands in different time warps, 2 names or the combination therefor... never losing her identity but trying to make sense of her destiny and searching for her own soul along the way. Perhaps the largest cancer of our world is our discontent with life in stead of the relish for what is.

 I felt a disconnect with blood family... loving them, but not understanding their rhythms or thoughts which seem so very far removed from my own. Now at 61, I realize the differences are not as important as the gratitude for being brought into the world... grateful for the start as Annie.

My story, as important as everyone's story...
scattered like dust in the wind for lack of better cliche'

"At times it seems to me that I am living my life backwards, and that at the 
approach of old age my real youth will begin. My soul was born covered 
with wrinkles — wrinkles my ancestors and parents most assiduously put 
there and that I had the greatest trouble removing."

– André Gide

Define Work

Here's a provocative concept... define work. Work as listed in the Merriam-Webster dictionary is to perform work or fulfill duties regularly for wages or salary,  to perform or carry through a task requiring sustained effort or continuous repeated operations, and/or to exert oneself physically or mentally especially in sustained effort for a purpose or under compulsion or necessity. Or In physics, work is defined as a force causing the movement — or displacement — of an object.  

Most of my life I have enjoyed and pursued work for the feelings of accomplishment and satisfaction that I received from such tasks. I was born with an innate ability to create, to express myself through art, and to teach others this process as well. I consider all of this work... I love work. 
Now comes the tricky part. While creating, my mind, body and soul are working simultaneously to the best of my ability, in order to express an idea, a thought, a concept and/or  hypothesis. This flows out in the form of a painting, a drawing, a sculpture, a lesson plan and etc. 
The beauty of being born on the planet Earth is that we all carry our own unique take or vision on existing life.  This vision comes forth through creative work...if pursued. There lies the key... not everyone pursues creativity through tasks which might include writing, painting, speaking, dancing, and other endeavors. Creative tasks could include the building of objects, cooking of meals, and sharing of stories. Creative tasks are genuine work. 
Some believe that work has to hurt, that work is back-breaking, that work is the ultimate sacrifice in order to feed your family. But it is my firm belief that all work can become a creative endeavor if you enjoy it, if you allow your own unique personality to develop through work and thus allow positive, creative sparks to grow. 
Now if we apply this concept to art, questions begin to appear. Define work... Art? Is art considered work? "Art, you say, is not necessary" (I would beg to differ), "Art is just a hobby that should be given away" (I would beg to differ), "Art is something that children enjoy while they are young" (I not only beg to differ but refuse to grow up), and etc. 
Art exists in all forms around us inspiring us to grow in our creative process. Art stimulates the brain and boosts invention, morale and imagination which leads to some pretty productive work on our planet. 
Art is Work.....

Annie