The body is the sacred sanctuary of the soul.-Ilana Rubenfeld. Be good to your body today and tonight.

Creativity for life! Thomas Berry says, "Wildness we might consider as the root of the authentic spontaneities of any being. It is that wellspring of creativity whence comes the instinctive activities that enable all living beings to obtain their food, to find shelter, to bring forth their young: to sing and dance and fly through the air and swim through the depths of the sea. This is the same inner tendency that evokes the insight of the poet, the skill of the artist and the power of the shaman."

My belief is in the blood and flesh as being wiser than the intellect. The body unconscious is where life bubbles up in us. It is how we know that we are alive, alive to the depths of our souls and in touch somewhere with the vivid reaches of the cosmos.
- D.H. Lawrence

is planning Dreamwork & Shamanic Arts workshops with Dan Gronwald. YAY!

"Imagination is intelligence having fun."
- anonymous

Wonder Walk #425, 781

In a dark funk, I went for a Wonder Walk with my man yesterday. Expect amazement, beauty, and interesting things -- you'll undoubtedly find them. Our wonders:

1. Rubber bats flying above a doorway. The bat man joined us in admiring the big bellied spiders and their webs, so common this time of year. One spider was wrapping up bug bundles, making lunches for the week. A guy wire ten feet above the web anchored it in place from a high tree branch. Bat medicine and Spider Medicine = spiritual rebirth and creativity.

2. A tall tree stump carved with buffalo, bear, eagle, snake to honor native ways. The eagle's broken beak => challenge in grasping what is nourishing.

3. I retrieve a small plastic skull for the family who's dropped it from their porch above while stringing ghoulish lights. Returning awareness of death/dark as part of life/light.

4. Spying a few stenciled koi on the sidewalk. They are life-like with individual orange, white, and black markings. They turn the sidewalk into the surface of the pond. We recognize them as escapees from the school of stenciled koi in our neighborhood.

5. The silver 4" disco wedgies, Marc Jacobs wellingtons, and full array of baby shoes, sneakers, and boots now used as planters for succulents and perennials. They are lined up around one side of the restroom pavilion in the park. What shoes to fill, and with new life.

6. The soul-streaming golden light at the top of the park. Occasional squeaks from the toy that a standard poodle pounced on. The cool breeze that made us turn for home.

What wonders can you see with fresh eyes?

falling in with kindred spirits

Tonight I was drumming with two other people for a group of shamanic journeyers. It's a simple, rapid, steady beat. Anyone can do it, as long as you listen and resist the urge to speed up. I've drummed many times with Greg, but only once with Anna, yet the three of us fell in together so seamlessly.

I experienced the wonder of being One - with the drumbeat, with each other. I wasn't doing the drumming, the beat itself was carrying me and moving my hand.

I invite you to notice when you synchronize with others. Going on a hike, playing pingpong, cooking and doing that kitchen island dance. Two pendulum clocks in the same room will over time synchronize to move together. Wordlessly working or playing together, we sometimes have the divine experience of communion with each other.

There may be oxytocin and dopamine flowing as we are unconsciously bonding and feeling the pleasure of being with kindred spirits. There may be heart beats and the breath slowing and deepening together. All I know is that it is happy-making.

Ancestors and the Creative Fire

In this detail from a recent collage, a kimono-clad woman bows to a circle of people. She reminds me that my work is a ceremony, an offering of just the right Medicine. The words around her: Inspiring Life's Journey and Respectful Exchange. She is close to the earth, grounded. She is ready to serve.

Perhaps she is an Ancestor called home by my creative fire, the sparks I'm fanning into flame.

In o-bon, the Japanese Ancestor ceremony, it is bonfires that guide the Ancestors home. Family clans gather in mid-late summer to clean up graves, give thanks to the Ancestors, feast, sing and dance. After a good long visit, people float lit candles on the water to send the Ancestors back until the next year. Both the quick and the dead are renewed.

I remember as a young girl stringing leis with my grandmother in Hawaii, preparing for an aunt and uncle arriving late for o-bon. We walked in the dark, following the sounds of celebration to the neighbor's luau, bearing long white strands of starry blossoms. We kids called it the 'bone dance' and watched the old ladies make their careful steps with sweeping arms and moon fans. They wore their light summer robes and sandals. I remember fire and night.

I haven't celebrated o-bon in many many years. But every time I write or make art, it seems as if the creative fire itself invites the Ancestors in. They help me and I hope that I help them in carrying forward this spark of life.

The Veil

The ancient Egyptians intimately connected life and death, with their mummification and preparing the dead for the next life. I made this collage in the spring. Rediscovering it now, fiddling with it in Photoshop, adding the sands of time, I see it freshly.

You see, an important stranger recently died, someone I'd sat with in healing ceremonies a few times.

In the week between his accident and his death, I felt inexplicably happy for him. Several others and I just kept seeing his smiling face that whole week he was in a coma. I felt no worry, knew he was somehow fine, despite the medical prognosis. I knew he was preparing for some next big thing and was already free.

I can only hope that he did not suffer, that he was in essence gone at the time of the accident. Perhaps he was just patiently waiting for his loved ones to get used to the idea of losing him. I like this idea, for he was a truly generous person.

These are the mysteries. We don't know. Years ago a close friend, trying to prepare me for the loss of him, told me that the relationship continues. Over the years, having him as an Ancestor, feeling his continued care, I really get how the love continues in a different way.

For many people around the world, this is not news. Still, we are pitiful humans and we get attached to that smile, the enfolding arms, the smell of each others' hair. Even though we can't have them back, we can choose to carry on with the love.

We can serve our Ancestors by living our lives well and heeding their teachings. My husband and I are keeping a spirit plate for our important stranger's year of transition to Ancestor land. We give food offerings to fuel his journey.

And we can look to them for support in the myriad of invisible, palpable ways they are here to back us up. I feel their love and blessing in all that I do. I choose a connected world.

lost and found

My husband learned one great thing in all his years of architecture school: finish that sketch.
So no matter how bad things seem to be going as you are creating, it's good to complete this one pass. Perfectionism kills. You might glean that one essential bit you would've missed had you crumpled and tossed too early.

So I'm catching up with this old post to see what comes...

The flash of blue caught my eye. Unnatural in the plum tree's burgundy branches. A sparrow had a blue faux feather in his beak, turning his head this way and that so I wouldn't miss it. A welcome pause in writing or doing yoga or whatever had me parked in the studio. He looked like he was eating cotton candy at a state fair, it was that blue.

I must tell you, this was just after GLBT Pride weekend here in the Castro at the end of June. A bit of boa lost in the fun, repurposed to feather a nest.

I imagine him weaving in this neon blue fluff, perhaps among the glitters and spangles already gathered. Perhaps the sparrow was going to trade it for more practical twigs with a raven? Or maybe it's just what we all do, take in something new, see if it can work with what we've got.
And we mix and match and create.

And what would the mama sparrow say? If she's sensible, she accepts the warmth, the softness, how familiar. Woven into the inner part of the nest, to avoid drawing undue attention to her vulnerable young, it just might work. If she's got a gleam in her eye, as taken by beauty as I was seeing her mate, then she might just chirp: Fabulous!

Failing to Imagine, Learning to See

In Visionary summer, I wanted to take a fresh look at my work/art/life plan. For some strange reason I couldn't see anything with my mind's eye. Who do I want to collaborate with, what do I want to create, what do I want to experience? My attempts to dream life into being went nowhere.

How mortifying that Wild Imagination should have failure of imagination!

But it's hard to dream big when we are feeling small. If we are unable to see anything ahead, it's time to see what's right here. I had to look at my anxiety and fears about no money, no support. I had to name my limiting beliefs. I had to face what in me felt hopeless, helpless. I had to be compassionate with these parts in me and agree to coexist peacefully. Maybe you know what I'm talking about.

I also had to let things be. In taking a pause, I got to fill up on reading about, of all things, the genius in each of us that relentlessly shapes our lives. I also had a most profound nature experience: the swift river flowing over immovable me. I understood how I am sculpted beautifully over time by life, like the granite boulders in the wild river's current. I felt grounded, joyful, satisfied. No pressure to do, just the bliss of being present and awake to incredible simple beauty. A day like that just fills my soul.

And now I have to pay attention to unexpected opportunities and support coming along - the days away at the river, a trip to see family and friends, a teaching gig, an inquiry about commissioned art, a new service project. These things pop up most often when I'm at my lowest, as if the Universe is saying: don't give up, keep going.

So that is what I'm doing.

Calling all Amateurs

If you can talk, you can sing. If you can walk, you can dance. - African saying

I love to move spontaneously to music. Someone asked me once if I was once a modern dancer by profession. I had to laugh. I have no innate sense of rhythm. I can't memorize steps. I'm quite clumsy, rather shy, and I don't have abs of steel. I am an amateur. What inspired her to ask must be the way I melt into the pure pleasure of sound and movement. I get transported.

Creative people know and seek numinosity, and we are all creative. Remember the last time you were so absorbed in what you were doing that you lost track of time? You became it -- the sound of your boots on the trail, the colors mixing on the canvas, the lullaby you sing to your child, the tales coming from your inky fingers, the chopping of the vegetables. Numinosity is total presence, being immersed in the moment, feeling fully alive and connected.

Amateurs get a bad rap in a culture that elevates experts above passive, disempowered consumers. But amateurs are lovers, those who follow their bliss, do things purely out of love of this numinosity. Amateurs risk being called nerds or geeks or wannabes, but a person who is passionate about something is a truly alive being.

When we are so absorbed, we soothe our nervous systems, regulate our heart rate and breathing, and get those endorphins flowing. We get happy. And that carries through to the end result.

Imagine a meal cooked by a harried, resentful, burnt out mom who's just rushed home from work. Hear the plates being plonked on the table. See the morose family sitting there. Taste the undigestible obligation. Now envision a potluck whipped together by friends who love to cook. They invent new dishes out of missing ingredients. They sing and dance to their favorite tunes. They are grateful. Totally different experience for those creating the meals and for those dining.

And finally, imagine a meal cooked by rote by a disconnected, bored professional chef. It may look all pretty, but there's no love, no soul. And substitute any profession for 'chef' and you see the negative impact of soulless production.

As an antidote to the endless craving-consuming cycle promoted by our culture, we are each called to be amateur, lovers of...something. Where can you experience the love of the thing you are doing? That's where you can extend happiness and connection in what you offer up. Be brave, be daring. It's amateur hour, in the best sense.

Taking a bite out of life

Never eat anything bigger than your head. But if you tend to take on more than you can chew, you might take a lesson from the seagull I saw yesterday. Three starfish arms dangled from his open yellow beak, his lunch stuck mid-swallow.


First he tosses back a large purple red starfish that could do all sorts of wrestling holds on his head. Imagine gulping an octopus the size of a large pizza! A sea star isn't nearly as wily or wiggly as an octopus, but you get the picture. It goes down part way, and immediately the gull must be thinking, "Oh crap! What have I done?" Biter's remorse. We all know that bitter taste.


He tries to swallow. This thing is lodged! He tries again to stretch his neck and swallow, to no avail. To anthropomorphize, maybe embarrassment gives way to a tamped-down panic. "I'm glad none of my friends are around to see this! Just stay cool. Everything's fine. Oh crap!" We who watch this gripping drama through the binoculars start to think this amusement might turn tragic.


The seagull manages to fly to a rock close to us. Those three arms still dangle. "Should I drop it before I choke to death?" Here's a great illustration of how we all on occasion have a hard time Just Letting It Go. Well-trained dogs are smarter than us at times.


He finally lets out a cry that must be distress, and we take heart that his airway isn't totally blocked. Another gull arrives, but does not seem to have any emergency room techniques. He must have eaten already, for he shows no interest in the strange meat.


Now we start to think that the distress call was actually boasting, the gull warning off the newcomer. "Get away, it's mine. All mine!" He easily coughs up the starfish onto the rock, to our great relief.


But no, he will not let it go for even a minute. He pokes at it some more with his beak. After the starfish is tenderized or a better grip is taken, the first seagull tosses back the starfish. Again the three arms dangle. He throws his head back. He does it again and again, and by some miracle the five arms go down. His neck bulges alarmingly with that spiky fist in there.


It's like a Rohrscharch test. Is it perseverance that wins the day? Or being willing to be foolish?


Is it important to do it yourself by trial and error?


Am I taking on something with too many directions?


A friend was sobered that one mis-step could suddenly mean life or death.


I take this away: it's time to be quiet and digest the immense nourishment I've been given. Really receive it.


What do seagull and starfish say to you?

Polishing our Edges

Many of us are lone rangers longing for community, yet wary of being swallowed up by a group. I enjoy my solo time and working one-on-one with people. Yet a deep longing for belonging keeps me joining circles just to learn how to be in community.

My teaching partner Dan has concluded that every group, no matter what the stated common goal, is really about learning how to be oneself in a group. Spiritual teacher and right livelihood guide Rick Jarow goes on to say that work itself may be just an elaborate excuse for us to mend our common karma. My biodynamic craniosacral therapy teacher Gary names our group identity plainly: we as a training group are tending to traumas big and small held in our individual 'social nervous systems' and that of the group as a whole.

In other words, we need each other and we need practice. How else can we learn to communicate, cooperate, and resolve conflict?

People drawn to monastic life have their edges 'polished' by living and working in close, communal quarters. It's easy to be spiritual with your own practice and nobody around to ruffle your feathers. But we serve each other best as mirrors and teachers. What a gift when I become aware of my reaction to X's behavior. Now we're in spiritual practice! My noticing wakes me to what must be my own area of next growth and healing. I bow to X for being a perfect reflection for me.

Any well-facilitated group can be a strong, fluid container that gives breathing room for each individual and encourages cross-pollination. That's how I like to lead and hold space, and how I like to participate. I feel safe to be open and purely myself, excited to learn with the group. I get over my shyness and play well with others.

Our human frailties arise quickly in groups. Alliances are bound to happen as we are drawn to and repelled by certain others. But how do we form bonds, not cliques? Do we understand that everyone is here in this particular group for a reason? Can we enlarge our compassion, inclusion and our willingness to be with someone different? Especially if we don't like him/her? What do we do when we feel exiled? Do we hold leadership or sit back? What do we do with our judgments?

All these questions apply to our inner relationships as well. The more self-compassion we have, the easier it is to meet another openly. And the more we allow our edges to be polished in community, without losing ourselves in group think and group speak, the more we can be truly present with ourselves just as we are.

Call and Response

Always the world is calling to us with beauty, with love. Are you there? it asks. Are you alive? Do we take time to see, hear, taste, touch, smell what the world offers? If we are at least a little sentient and awake, how do we respond? We need to share our stories: Yes, I'm here. Yes, I'm alive.

My body is still resonant from a recent kirtan led by Jai Uttal and friends. We friends and strangers gather to sing and chant Hindu devotional songs. The meaning of all the songs is the same: I love Creation, Creation loves me; YAY Universe; thanks to the Gods/Goddesses. And because it is call and response, you just listen and receive this passionate music and respond with the purity of your heart. The room was alive with all kinds of voices. From afar the meditation hall must have pulsed like a giant heart.

Each round builds in energy, and the group entrains. The full-bodied ecstatic waves of energy are so wonderful to feel as air and sound travel throughout my cells. One cannot sit still. We are literally moved. The silence is full and delicious during meditation between songs. And the frogs outside harmonize with us throughout.

Yes, I'm here. Yes, I'm alive. Yes, I'm grateful. Yes, it's wonderful to be together. Out loud and in silence. Yes, this is my body. Yes, this is us.

Feeling Ground and Rising Up

Being in the body means giving ourselves up to gravity and touching earth. Sitting in meditation, we root ourselves through our sit bones. Our feet, legs, and bottom meeting the ground give us great stability, out of which our spine and consciousness can rise naturally. A sprout reaching for the sun.

Grounding allows us to first be here, then rise up, reach out, and connect with others. Without grounding we can be floaty and a little too untethered, not productive.

In one of my recent Collage Circles*, one participant had abundant fiery energy wanting more focus. I encouraged her to pay attention to the ground of the paper she would work on and the edges that would contain her process. Being aware of containment offers safety and can actually create more space for what wants to happen.

She made a two-sided collage, with lots of movement and images transcending the board. One corner was a pop-up section with a plant stalk or snaky thing coming out and up from the flat surface, then connecting back down to the board.

A revelation: energy can go up and out AND can also feed back into the source. This was very moving to her, that her process could be inherently regenerating, rather than scattering and exhausting. All that energy could move, but she could stay here in ground.

Sculptor Martin Puryear often uses the form of some heavy solid thing with an upraised arm. The ground and anchor allows extension, suspension, lift and creates a great dynamic tension, a wonderful feeling of aliveness and presence.
http://mckeegallery.com/nggallery/page-219/page/163/

If you'd like to explore this more, contact me for embodied practices to connect to ground and movement in your life.

*Next Collage Circle 4/25: www.wildimagination.org/calendar.htm

At Play At Work

Two weeks ago I met one of those great flight attendants who make travel worth it. What Kenny radiated most was an authentic sense of caring and playfulness. His safety spiel was a rapid-fire riff.

"Don't be unfastening your seat belts before the sign goes off. I know who you are. Don't do it," he teased. With this human touch, I felt his genuine concern for us, his charges.

Kenny was a natural performer and clearly loved making us smile. He chatted easily as he poured the ginger ale. When he came to my row, I told him I was happy he was having fun.

"I always have fun. I don't like mean, grumpy people," he shook his head with a furrowed brow. Clearly he'd made a choice getting up that morning, or walking into this life, just as we all can.

Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr. said, It's faith in something and enthusiasm for something that makes a life worth living.

I didn't get to ask Kenny, but my guess is his faith is in people. What about you?

Love over Fear

A common theme this week has been Love over Fear. How do we do the next right thing with love and trust, rather than panic and fear and desperation? How do we attract more of a good thing?

It's so easy to get caught in the fear and uncertainty as the economy as we've known it seems to be dissolving. What new form is coming? Is this too little too late to save our society? What can I do? You may be feeling triggered just reading these words. Stop. Exhale completely and let your breath naturally fill you up. Do it again. Again. Again.

Place your hands on your heart. Yes, right now, as you are supposed to be preparing for a business meeting. It only takes a minute. Connect to all the positive change that is happening right now in your body as it renews itself. Your heart pumping, slowing from anxious pitter patter to a deeper sure rhythm. Slowing down enough to remember the wholeness that underlies all discomforts.

Compassionate self-touch is love your cells understand. While you're at it, think of someone you love, someone who loves you. Yes, even let that smile come to your face. Love over fear can happen in a few breaths. You get to choose. The fear may still be there, but it may not have you by the throat.

Place your hands on your belly. Let your breath drop below the diaphragm and calm you down immediately. The belly expands with fresh energy on the inhale, and releases unhelpful thoughts and fears and toxins from the body on the exhale.

Nothing new. Essential to remember. As we practice being in loving presence with ourselves and others, we make more space around the fear and infuse that space with a whole lot of love. And as we know, so much can happen in that more open-hearted space, where we are connected with ourselves and each other.

Being Love

LATE FRAGMENT

And did you get what
you wanted from this life, even so?
I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth.

- Raymond Carver

Magic happens when we are busy being love. I don't mean being 'in' love, as if it were a substance we swim in. But being love, the walking talking ocean itself. Touching everyone and everything with our gentle wave, bringing love to everything we do.

A friend described her life of late: providing great service to people at work, realizing some visionary projects and handing some off to others, paying off debt and saving for the next big thing, tending the relationship in a new way with her life partner. She is happy, excited about life, and at peace.

Part of me is pure envy listening to all this wonderfulness. And still I am awake enough to recognize that she is Being Love. She's crossed into new territory. And she is making a difference. I am Present enough to be happy for her.

I try to remember moments of being love. Setting out for a hike, anticipating adventure. Making my husband laugh. That still, crackling point when a counseling session opens up and my client and I are deeply moved by discovery. Making art when I let it make me. Allowing myself to be all broken in front of other people. Letting their compassion mosaic me back together. Noticing that my cat has hypnotized me once again into giving him a belly rub.

How do I get back to this being love when it feels so far away? The envious part of me desperately needs to know. Does the self-care routine come first? My friend has fine-tuned her nutrition, rest, and yogic spiritual practice. She actively loves herself with the basics every day.

Or is it an internal action? A surrender to love, a YES to life, a declaration of I am here. It probably doesn't matter where it starts, as acts of self-love or reaffirming belief in love and the goodness of life. Just that it starts. In deep winter, with our much needed rains seeping into thirsty earth, seeds of being love are being fed.

Creativity in Business Relationships

I asked my husband the furniture designer* where he sees creativity in business. He says it's all in the relationships. There's the client, vendors, collaborators, assistants. Say a client wants you to make X. You say YES, even though you've never done it before. You seek out someone who knows more about X. You envision how you could work best together, meet them, present your ideas and remain open to theirs. Others have the right materials or technology or know-how for these aspects, so you bring them in too.

You nurture all these relationships to be mutually beneficial, staying focused on creating X together in the best way. There's lateral thinking, flexibility, and intuition required to go where the relationships and the project are really taking you.

And ultimately, it might not be about X at all.

Rick Jarow, a favorite spiritual teacher on abundance and right livelihood, says our work is just an excuse to heal relationships and mend our karma. Tell that to corporate America. As we've seen too often recently, people do horrible things to others and the environment, then wave it off: Oh, it's just business! It may be business as usual, but it's usually not just.

Beautiful furniture, or whatever the offering, may be merely a benefit of developing a network of trusted collaborators. Tending relationships with creativity in mind goes a long way toward healing the wound of extreme self-reliance. Abundance for one, abundance for all.

*Check out www.gobuildstudio.com to see simple, elegant, modern furniture.

Recipe, No Recipe

Sometimes it goes like this: Open fridge. Stare. Close door. Spiral light bulb flickers on above your head. Check cupboard, spy tin of sardines. Forage for leafy things, peppery things, orange things, more green crunchy things. No bread, but a few crackers. Go back for salad dressing, a bit of goat cheese. Pumpkin seeds?

Wash, chop, toss, add, arrange, serve. Lunch! Enjoy.

Other times it's like this: Pull out the disintegrating page torn from the old Moosewood cookbook. Gather measuring spoons to follow the recipe for cornbread you've made 523 times. This ritual needs no improvements. Every time it comes out perfectly; you are astounded again.

With creativity, recipes are only a starting point. The choreographer, dancer, children's book illustrator and author Remy Charlip created a series of Airmail Dances. He made spare line drawings of dancers in a series of simple poses. Mailing them off to trusted choreographers, he encouraged them to fill in the rest. A different dance for every choreographer, ten thousand ways to connect the dots. Remy gave space for others to create in the present moment in their own dance language, inspired by these simple landmarks.

Consider how you cook, garden, be with your children, do presentations, lead meetings, make love. There's room for creativity and experimentation in all these things. Where would we be without Jimi Hendrix's version of The Star Spangled Banner? What if Luke Skywalker had not used the Force?

There's also times when we need the comfort of the consistently astounding. We just need to awaken in the present and remember to be astounded, even if it's for the 523rd time. One client was running on automatic, producing without a sense of fulfillment, "missing all the good things." Recipe or no recipe, that is our task, to not miss this being alive.

Freeing the Hostage

An old friend emailed me something about being "held hostage" by creativity and failure. If I may translate, he was expressing a desire to engage his creativity in some tangible way and felt the preemptive fear of failure. He was identifying with some part of him that was kidnapped by another. The violent image speaks to the very real urgency of freeing what is held captive.

Let me reassure him and all of us. Our creativity is natural and essential to each of us. It cannot be taken away. But it can be undiscovered, unclaimed, neglected, forgotten, disowned, banished, rejected. Our creativity is our inherent human ability to imagine and manifest what is needed next. It is letting our hands be hands, connected to our hearts and extending out into the world.

My friend lives in a society with a long history of world-shattering art and architecture. He is also a product of US culture, which revolves around producing, advertising, buying, and consuming. No matter, there's always a place for the handmade life. Our soul life depends on it.

Many of us in the US distance ourselves from or neglect to claim our everyday creativity. We are told it's only for artists, special people. We take the creative process out of cooking, parenting, intimate partnership, friendship, housekeeping, fitness, finances, work and turn it into obligation and put it at the bottom of the list of things to do.

To free the hostage, I would ask what part of us is holding it hostage? What does this part want and not want? What is it worried will happen if the creativity is allowed to run free? Is there some participation it wants? Or does it just want its point of view to be heard?

In situations like this, if there's a lot of broken trust, it may take time for the 'kidnapper' to release what's being held. It's vital that we give compassionate awareness to it and really listen. Reflecting back how it feels, what it's saying, will often magically allow it to relax and see it doesn't need to hold any other part of us captive.

We need to bring our mindfulness and kindness to parts of us that feel mistreated and driven to desperate acts. We can bring everyone home safely and return to our creativity all together.

Something Always Blooming

Like everyone and their cousin, I am trying to take better care of my body. I don't like the 'e' word that sounds like demon banishing, so I say 'body in motion' or 'joyful movement'. Motivation can be tricky, for the part of me that would rather stay cozy in the blankets doing sleeping yoga is very strong. So I must lure myself out to the cardio hills and stairs with promises of beauty and the wildly disciplined drumming of Babatunde Olatunji.The endorphins are a bonus.


The plants conspire with their endless creativity. Amidst the running up stairs or purposefully striding uphill, I pause and notice what's around me. One foggy morning I met potato vine flower flashing a yellow eye at the center of deep purple, a no-nonsense kind of beauty. Bare cherry tree sprouting tender red baby branchlets a few millimeters long. Reddish purple cyclamen pushing up out of the cold, moist earth. What bravery!


On another morning, clear and cold in another microclimate, I found a tiny barrelly cactus with green torso, its head and little arms a fiesta orange and yellow. Try being grumpy now. A perfectly fragrant pink rose, just at my nose level, reminds me of the one in The Little Prince. Birds of Paradise, here? You've got to be kidding. And it goes on.


What's so easy to observe in the green relatives is sometimes harder to see in me. Where am I sprouting, emerging, braving the fog and cold? What beauty and joy am I sharing with others?


Like this new habit of joyfully moving with the hills and stairs, it takes practice to be honest with myself. The part of me doubting by own growth, beauty, creativity and impact on others may always be here. But the more I connect daily with the wild and cultivated nature around me, the more I get in my bones that I am just like the green relatives. There's always something blooming in some corner of my wild inner garden. If I look for beauty and signs of life, I will find them. Somewhere in me, fertile ground is producing and supporting life.


So walk out, expect to meet signs of life wherever you are. Be met with beauty and be amazed.

Making Space for Change

After not collaging or writing much in late fall, I wondered where my creativity was going. I actually asked myself this while spackling and painting my new healing space. I somehow forgot I was pouring my art and soul into an 11' x 11' x 11' room.

Need is the mother of invention. Months ago I left a rented office situation and didn't want yet another office that didn't feel like me. It finally dawned on me to transform the junky guest room into my new healing space. A tarot reader who knew nothing about my work expressed great urgency about home improvements, work environment, and finances. Doh!

My creative process over time went like this:

dissatisfaction, desire, visioning

incubating

research, investing, gathering materials

deconstruction, recycling

prep, painting, installation, decoration

test-driving, feedback, aesthetic fine-tuning.

Most of this is in collaboration with my husband, who has the can-do to complement my vision. It's contagious. I'm ridiculously proud that I installed the dimmer switch all by myself without burning the house down. I tell all my clients. I'm still in fine-tuning - I am a dimmer switch! Yet in a relatively short time - VOILA - I am sitting in a beautiful new space, ready to receive and happy to serve an abundant flow of clients.

The feng shui people are onto something. My new healing space is in the life path/career part of my house. How could we have let it get all junky?!? What's sad is that this is the very last room in our flat that we've upgraded to be all nice and beautiful. I'd been putting my livelihood last, a refugee without a proper home. For my work and my husband's the more beauty, grounding, comfort, quiet, warmth, the better. I'm grateful we know how to make an inviting beautiful space and that my healing work with clients finally, finally, finally has a room of its own.

*I'm leading collage workshops starting 1/31. Check out www.wildimagination.org/calendar.htm

New Year Magic

I did a wonder walk through the fog with my man on New Year's Day. What I want to say about that: it's good to start your year daring to be a fool for love. On Van Ness Avenue, near the serious opera hall and spiffed up city hall, we looked up and found a hawk soaring. Fairly low, it looked down at us while hunting for lame pigeons. We do what we always do with high fliers. We stuck our arms out and echoed their soaring, swaying back and forth with our long fingery wings.

I called to one, then two of the beautiful relatives, that we love them. It's thrilling, my heart leaps when I see the wild in the city. I tell them I love them and thank them. People around us are giving us the hairy eyeball. We point, "Look at the hawks!" But they just pass us by and don't look up.

I believe that the animals, our relatives, only let themselves be seen by those with eyes. I have eyes, my man has eyes, and certain of my friends have eyes to see the magic in the world. I am grateful they are here. Hawks are messengers to Spirit, so whenever you see one, send a message of thanks, love, and blessing. Use that acute vision to hone in on what will feed you well. And ask for what you want.

I wanted to feel myself alive in the city I love, exploring with my man, being a body in joyful motion. And so it was.