Tranquility

The last painting…a wonderful, fulfilling moment!  When I look around the studio I explore the absolute potential  and passion that lies within my own mind.  Creativity!  I am astonished once again at the strength of my body and the WILL that allowed all of this to happen!  Most of all I send out to the universe, my Divine ‘everything’, the true love of my life…gratitude…that I have had again, the opportunity to co-create and bring something important out of ‘nothingness’.  Glory to God!

It is time to celebrate my strength!  I think I will finish this final painting while listening to R.E.M.  I do not require the affirmation of others.  So often now I realize the sophistication of my own mind and the ability I have within to surmount obstacles.  I can  separate myself from other people and their ‘wobbly’ choices.  My joy and the tranquil feelings I experience are no longer reliant on someone else.  There is such a  satisfying feeling looking at this passion-filled life I have created for myself.  I used to wait for someone else to create and manifest the ‘magic’ for me.  Now, Imanisfest it for myself!

One at a time, my two teens visited me in the studio last evening…they shared their perceptions…they sat quiet with me in red chairs and shared their hearts.  My life is such a rich, warm and wonderful place anymore.

YES!  Celebration!

Being in My Head

There is really little else going on…..but the music and the painting.  When I sit for my short breaks Laurie-dog sits beside me and I scratch behind his ear.  That’s how simple things are.  I’ve poured myself a glass of Dad’s homemade shiraz.  This will make the next round of work more festive somehow.  Perhaps I’ll play Santana and rev things up a little.  I take the children to watch Santana this Saturday.  The tune…Make Somebody Happy comes to mind right now.  I’ve added a photograph album of my space.  I call my studio The Chapel….so I now have my space in this space.  This concept makes me smile.

Heaven in My Studio

A Weekend Full Moon

I’m sipping coffee, as is my morning ritual  while I type my letters.  Time to write a brief entry.  I buried myself in my painting this weekend…surfaced when my fingers were tingling or I needed a change of music or beverage.   Love is Everything was the tune on 49th Parallel that I kept going to…funny how some songs stick.
  
Early Saturday morning I stepped out of the house and looked to the right.  There, on the deck, I took pause.  Looking at the sky over the violet hue of mountains, I saw a full moon, pregnant and pink in the morning light.  Woven into the soft blue sky were a series of pink threads of cloud.  It was such an awesome surprise that it literally took my breath away.
 
Nature has its way of keeping you grounded and even when you are sad, she reminds you of the wonderful pulsing core of you.  Centered.  Everything is alright.
 
Image borrowed from here.
 
 

Making Dreams Come True

When we were small, my brother said that he wanted to be like Jacques Cousteau….he wished to be on the waves in a big boat…and then, submerge and see the wonders of the world beneath the surface.  He followed his little-guy dream and is now the Commander of one of Canada’s fleet.
 
Over broadcasts and buried in newspaper articles, my brother was featured last week as one of the Canadians bound for New Orlean’s to help with the recovery/clean-up operation.  His men were ready to assist earlier…but it seems that in every situation, there is a process….patience….evaluation and analysis of the situation.  I admire my brother for what he has made of his life.  I only wish that we could be living in closer proximity.  Our military upbringing  has contributed to the distance between myself and my siblings.  It has been hard to sustain the emotional connection.
 
I have prayed consistently this week for the well-being of those who have suffered as a result of Katrina’s power and I will continue to pray for the recovery of their dreams.
 
I am proud of my brother and other Canadians who have the means to help in this critical situation.  May you be carried on the ‘wings of an eagle.’
 

Perceptions

I have spent so much time thinking about angels….but, second to that, I’ve thought about perceptions….of angels and other things.  I can’t fathom how some can’t see past the ephemeral bits of what surrounds them….or even the notion of ones own mortality….to see the everlasting and what is truly ‘forever’.  We are all caught up in an endless conversation about our desires, our needs and our hopes.  These, alone, are intangible and yet we are constantly rooted in our own longing. 
 
If indeed I sit on the point of a circle…  if every other being I have encountered in this ‘silly’ lifetime is also seated on that circle somewhere …if from the sky, a beautiful feather falls from a bird…perhaps an eagle  and flutters its way to the precise center of that circle… then…we will see that feather from an angle, our own angle.  Our perception of that feather can not be right or wrong…it can only BE.  We see that natural form through our own eyes….
 
If then, a concept such as politics or spirituality falls from the deep blue sky above….and then, settles itself into the center of the circle; is it not the same as the feather?  Are we not able to see the concept that reveals itself to us from our own point on the circle, however different that perception  from our neighbour’s?
 
I’m rambling….sigh…..but tonight I am thinking about the angles of angels!
 
 
 
 
 

In the Classroom

I played two songs for my students this morning. One was Deja Vu written by John Fogerty and the other was Wake me up When September Ends by Green Day. I thought there were common themes in these two pieces of writing and that the melodies were rich, emoting ‘stuff’ that the students could think about, given the circumstances in Iraq.

Just recently they have been considering Ray Bradbury’s short story, All Summer in a Day…and there are also some parallels there; with the seven years of rain….and issues of isolation, sadness and abandonment. The image of the sun gives us some insight about hope and its potential in very dark moments.

After listening, I distributed both sets of lyrics and led some rich discussion about ‘seeing the writing on the wall’. I felt pleased that the people sitting in front of me were going to take some learning with them.

As a follow-up, they will first write a comparison of the two songs and their themes and then go on to discuss which song they prefer and why it is preferred.

Finally, they will find a pathway into the lyrics and write their own narrative based on thoughts that surface as a result of considering the writing of these two powerful songs. I was excited when one of the boys came to ask me if he could write from a voice in the song Vietnam by Creedance Clearwater Revival. Good! I told him that I was especially pleased that he had extended the suggested activity as it will mean more to him this way.

It was a very rewarding day in the classroom.

This writing has provided me a brief shift in posture and in focus. Now I must return to the studio where work is really pushing forward. I hope that the energy can be sustained.

Image borrowed from the Kevin Webb 22 website.

e. e. cummings

http://www.americanpoems.com/poets/eecummings/11909 

here’s to opening and upward,

to leaf and to sap and to your

(in my arms flowering so new)

self whose eyes smell

of the sound of rain and

here’s to silent certainly mountains;

and to a disappering poet

of always, snow and to morning;

and to morning’s beautiful friend twilight

(and a first dream called ocean)

and let must or if be damned

with whomever’s afraid

down with ought with because

with every brain which thinks

it thinks, nor dares to feel

(but up with joy; and up

with laughing and drunkenness)

here’s to one undiscoverable

guess of whose mad skill each

world of blood is made

(whose fatal songs are moving in the moon)

I have enjoyed a beautiful half moon tonight….walking from the studio to the house!  Good night, dear world!  Be kind to those who are lonely or hopeless tonight.

 

Memory

I was spinning my wheels that morning.  There were things to get done as always and so I busied myself with those rituals when one of the children called upstairs to me, "Mom, what is the World Trade Center?"
 
As I remember it, I stepped out from the bathroom, into the hall where I could see the television clearly.  A voice said, "A plane just flew into the World Trade Center."
 
As I set myself down on the couch, a plane hit the second tower.  Smoke and flame billowed heavenward….it was truly something that seemed unbelievable.  It remains so.
 
It is very early in the morning.  I’ve just come in from the studio…it is only right that I should remember in the silence of this first bit of morning the many who lost their lives and the families they left behind, shattered and rebuilding to this day.

Cold Rain

It’s morning and the autumn rain pours over everything. I’m more aware  of Katrina and her aftermath than perhaps I was in the sunshine. 
 
Sipping coffee gives me some sense of capitalization and the beginning of a new sentence….the beginning of a new painting…beginning.  I’m introspective and fine with that.  I don’t think that this will be the sort of day that finds me dancing somewhere or entertaining friends.
 
I have buckets of that thick jelly goop waiting for me to stir up with sugar and lemon….by evening beautiful jars of crabapple jelly will be set out on window sills to dapple my kitchen with red sweetness.  I like autumn for reasons such as this one.  Autumn has always been my favourite season.  It is a time to go divining because there are so many wonders to be found at the conclusion of summer…so much tucked away in the swish swish of dried grass  bent at the river….beautiful river stones at its edge now that the run-off has subsided.
 
I will now go and make something of this day…this, after a hug from my son and a shared drive to his very first band camp.