Poetry Thursday

I did this painting two years ago of the beautiful boho and me. It was called mountains. I found this poem yesterday and it made me think of this painting. Of this beautiful friendship. Of the power and beauty of women. The beauty, mystery and strength of female connections. I think women together can change the world!! This poem if for all the amazing women out there, changing and gracing the world in so many ways. Sharing their unique and special gifts with the world and shining their light on us all. To all the lovelies near and far, some I have met, some I have yet to meet who have made my life more beautiful for their contributions.

Of Mountains and Women

The hearts of women
And the hearts of mountains
Are both the same. They beat to
An old rhythm, an old song.

Mountains and women
Are made from the sinew of the rock.
Mountains and women
Are home to the spirits of the earth
Mountains and women
Are created with beauty all around
Mountains and women
Embrace thee mystery of life

Mountains give patience to women.
Women give fullness to mountains
Celebrate each mountain, each women
Sing songs to mountains and to women
Dance for them in your dreams

The spirit of mountains and of women
Will give courage to our children
Long after we are gone.

Poem by Nancy Wood

Raw

I know I have posted a picture of this work in progress before but it felt right for today's post.
Sometimes I feel ill equipped to be living in this world. Like a turtle with out its’ shell, exposed and vulnerable. I am bare to the elements, the sun burns my skin, and the wind chills me to the bone.

I think I have been spending too much time in the studio alone. I have been so busy creating: painting for my upcoming show, trying new techniques for illustrations, sewing clothes for my website, making jewelry…I have been in another place. Living in my own little bubble, always a little scary. Sometimes when I spend an unusually large amount of time creating, painting in particular, I find it more difficult to resurface. To join the world and function as a human must in the world. My head feels like it is floating up in another space and my body is left to fumble around, not quite right.

My sensitivity is also heightened during these times leading to the vulnerable turtle feeling.

I am in a place where everything hurts and feels huge. Where I am feeling bruised by others and like I am doing unintentional bruising myself. Perhaps it’s the rainy weather or hormones or the fact that I am stressed about my to do list. Or perhaps I am not handling the real sad things that have been happening with an increased frequency lately as well as I thought. Maybe I am getting messages that I have not been facing some real emotions, grief, loss, abandonment. Or maybe I am afraid to send my creations out into the world to be judged and possibly rejected. I have been loving and nurturing them and I am not sure they could handle it.

Everything feels hard today from driving to painting. I am failing at all my tasks.

I wonder if everyone has moments where they feel the same?? Do you question your abilities and your strength?

I am going to try to sooth my spirit today. I am going to go for a long run in the rain, get my toes done, play a game with my son and head back out to the studio to paint, and hide and spill it all out onto canvas.

My website has a bunch of new goodies in the boutique. I will share it with you first; I don’t think I send it out further yet. Here are a few pictures of what you will see…

Self portrait Tuesday- Introduce yourself #4

My hands are my favorite body part. Not because I find them beautiful, on the contrary, they have hangnails, chipped nails and rough skin that I think looks older than my years. I love them because they serve me so well. I use them to paint, write, create, cook, caress…I could not imagine life without the use of my hands.

I was THE biggest dork in elementary school. Seriously. I was at the bottom of the social ladder.

I do not like sharing my computer. My husbands PC died a terrible death of a virus a few months ago and since he has been sharing my laptop. I feel awful and selfish about it but it drives me crazy! It is like sharing my journal. My computer has so many precious bits on it, pictures, painting ideas, short stories, songs, it is how I spend a lot of time. Recently, it has been hard for me to get to as my hubby is using it for his work. It is making me insane!

I love the smell of sharpies and paint.

I love to walk in the rain, I throw on a hat on my head, get a warm drink, and head out into the city. I love the cool feel on my skin, the fresh smell of the rain and to watch as it washes everything clean. I like to be anonymous, the pretend that no one can see me as I move through the streets.

I was a serial monogamist. I never really had the experience of dating a few people casually at the same time. I almost always had a boyfriend, or just one guy I was dating. I tried it once with disastrous results. My roommate at the time left me a well-intentioned post it stuck to the bathroom mirror about my date for the following night with boy number 2. I was coming home from a date with boy number 1 and invited him in. He used the bathroom first and that was it. It scared the wrong boy off and didn't go my way at all!

I still feel like a big dork. Sometimes when we are out for an evening upon coming home I think over the nights connversations. I wonder if I sounded like an idiot, if people thought I was stupid, if they liked me etc...those critical little voices born of childhood slights and insecurities kicks in. I hide my head inder the pillow squeeze me eyes shut and try not to listen.

I took off for a cross-country road trip with friends when I was 18. I knew my mom didn't want me to go, she gets nervous about things like that. My dad however channeled Jack Kerouac and told me to go out and have experiences. He shared some of his own adventure stories with me; it was a great conversation. So, when my mom when to work I packed my bag and took off. I think my mom is still mad about it. I wouldn't trade the memories of that trip for anything!

It's in the air

I think there is something in the air today. A tenderness that floats about like mist and we are all breathing it in. It has been gripping at my heart all day today. I have noticed others feeling the same. Raw emotions that are making their presence felt and will not be denied. This picture is another unfinished piece for my upcoming show. It is about sorrow and the process of moving through that emotion. It felt like a good image to share today, a visual explanation of swirling feeling.

It is strange how an emotion can take hold of you and move you through so many different places. It is like a dance in which you are spun and most certainly led from one place to another. One thing is for sure; you do not end up where you started.

I spent an hour or so looking through poetry books this evening. I was looking for some words to comfort a friend that were stated more eloquently and beautifully than I could ever manage. Nothings felt quite and so I was left with only my own voice. I hope it provided some comfort. In my search I came across this and thought I’d share it here…

My help is in the mountain
where I take myself to heal
the earthly wounds
that people give to me.

I find a rock with sun on it,
and a stream where the water runs gentle,
and the trees which one by one
give me company.

So must I stay for a long time,
until I have grown from the rock,
and the stream is running through me,
and I cannot tell myself from one tall tree.

Then I know that nothing touches me,
Nor makes me run away.
My help is in the mountain
that I take away with me.
By Nancy Wood

Here are a few pictures of my desk in my studio for the beuty with ink on her fingers :)

Sunday Scribblings- Three Wishes

She used to wish that her plastic horses would come to life during the night while she slept. Praying that upon waking she would find them moving of their own accord, ready to befriend her. It was her heart'’s secret wish when she was a little girl. Every night, after being tucked into her warm bed, she would survey the rows of model horses prancing along the shelves that lined the room. They were so life like, she almost believed her wish would come true. In fact, when she was younger, she did believe. Though by the tender age of seven, she had learned that wishes like that don't really come true.

In her teens her wishes has been focused on things like popularity, beauty, the right clothes and the right boys. Teenage wishes for teenage challenges. They revolved around fitting in and gaining the acceptance of her superior peers. These wishes too had been fervently sent up. She thought back to how serious it all seemed at the time. She was wishing to be comfortable in her own skin; a feat, she thought wryly, she never quite achieved. In spite of this fact, she has moved on. She has left even that wish behind in lieu of more pressing matters.

Staring up at the ceiling she smiled at the memories. Simpler times, simpler wishes. Didn'’t the fairy tales all promise us three wishes? She wouldn't’ need three she thought, only one. Sure she could certainly come up with three. She would wish, as she thought most would, for an end to the seemingly senseless and endless wars plaguing the world, an end to the suffering of so many in the forgotten poor regions of the globe. She would spend the second wish on the more selfish hope that her family all remain happy and healthy. She feels that she can afford to keep one wish to herself. Her third wish, the same one that rolls through her mind day after day as she moves through her tasks, help. Please help. It has become a drone in her mind, a constant ever-playing chant.


They were called the children of the night or night commuters and they are the reason she is here. To avoid abduction, tens of thousands of children walk many miles from their rural villages into city centers to sleep in relative safety provided by groups like the one she is working for. Over the last twenty years, it is estimated that some 30, 000 children have been abducted from their families. They are beaten, mutilated, raped, forced to commit atrocities (often against their own families), and serve as soldiers in the LRA (Lords Resistance Army). It is heart breaking and a problem that the world largely ignores. She has heard it described as the worst case of child trafficking in history and watching them come every night she can well believe it. She has been here a year and she still cries every night despite the children's courage and warm smiles. She thinks to herself, if they can be brave enough to face this, I can be brave enough to offer help.

Her alarm sounds unnecessarily. She has been up for hours in spite of her late night. She rolls over and hits the button to stop the noise and swings her legs to the floor. As she walks through the city streets towards the market she heads out hoping to meet a fairy or a genie on her way. I just need one she thought desperately as the familiar knot rose in her throat. Just one wish would be enough.
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If you are interested in reading more about the children of Uganda check out these sites. Sorry they aren't links, blogger doesn't support MACs yet :(
http://childrenofuganda.org
http://www.worldvision.org/childrenofwar

Self portrait Tuesday- Introduce yourself

A few more tid-bits to help introduce myself.

I hate the way I look in pictures! All of them! I don’t even have one wedding picture up in my house. V sad!

I talk to myself…a lot! I am humiliated on a regular basis as I notice people watching me in places like the grocery store.

One of my favorite things to do is lay on a blanket on the grass in the sun (and hopefully a breeze) and read.

I love fish tanks. They are so soothing and lovely! I would love to be a marine biologist and study fish and marine mammals.

I love to twirl around my kitchen with my head back and my eyes closed. It is big and I can twirl three times from the entry way to the back counter. It makes me feel happy instantly, free and a bit like a kid again.

I don’t call me friends enough. I mean to, I really do. I think I wait until I will have uninterrupted time and it just doesn’t happen. I love my girl and need to show it more! I am thinking about Beth, Margaret, Mary, Kristen and all my Jen’s!

It is just ridiculous how much I love gardens and flowers. They just lift my spirits instantly!

I really want to live out of the US. Ever since I was a kid I always wanted to live in England, I am a huge anglophile!! I would love to live anywhere in Europe. Now more than ever, I just don’t like the direction our country is going.

In-between seasons

It isn’t quite spring anymore and it isn’t really summer yet either. As I watered my garden this morning I noticed all my spring flowers losing their blooms and fading away. The summer flowers are just beginning, the seeds have become tiny green shoots popping up all around barley visible unless you get on your knees and look for them as I obsessively do. I am impatient for the flowers.

I found myself getting frustrated with my garden this morning. Why can’t it just go from beautiful spring bulbs to wondrous summer flowers?? Why is this between phase so long? I am impatient with this in-between stage, it us not attractive, it is taking a lot of work with little to show for it and I am ready to see the fruits of my labors.

Almost immediately after the thought came into my head I heard a voice. “The seasons are important and you have to honor them. The spring flowers need to take their time to die back. Allowing them to produce the seeds that will mean even more flowers next year. Let them work their magic in their own time and you will be rewarded with a lusher garden next year. The new plants need time to grow. They are busy underground, developing roots, gathering strength to support the flowers and plants they will become. Have patience, the stronger the roots, the healthier and more beautiful the plant will become”.

PATINCE. I have never been good at it. It is so important to have patience and appreciate the seasons, life’s seasons to trust life’s process and appreciate the moment. I am trying.

I am between seasons in the garden and in my life.

I have been busy growing roots in the form of making clothing, jewelry, paintings, creating a new home; I have been hard at work under the surface growing roots. I am hoping that the flowers will come soon. I am ready to see the work out in the world, hopefully spreading beauty and joy.

It is almost Summer! Here are a few of my flowers...

Grateful Friday

I love grateful Friday. It is not that I am always overflowing with gratitude, hardly but that’s the beauty of it. It’s a weekly reminder to focus on all the glorious things in life. Even if I start my day in a less than grateful mindset, a few minutes into my list making I am feeling better. Feeling grateful!

Today I am feeling grateful for:

My beautiful son. He is so much fun and such a delight. I learn from him everyday.

My home. I love being home, almost too much. I love that we are creating a sanctuary for our family. That is reflects who we are, it is colorful, it is warm, it is HOME.

My new running partner. I meet her Wednesday and Friday mornings. It is making me get moving again which is a very good thing.

My mom and for all the ways she uses her creativity to help us.

The taste of coffee and tea, I know it isn’t good for you but to me it is like a warm blanket. It is comfort on a chilly day.

Our upcoming trip to London and Paris!! Megg, I can’t wait to meet you in London and have a pint!

Art dates with my new friends Liz and the private yoga lessons she is going to give me! I am SOOOOOOOOOOOOO grateful for those!

French lesson pod casts.

My husband’s grandmother for taking me to her friends bead shop and helping me to make beautiful necklaces.

poetry Thursday

They...

Rip the bandage off quickly,
they say that hurts the least.
I don’t know if I believe them,
I think they are the beast.

They they they,
I even hear them in my sleep.
Mean little voices,
taunting me from the deep.

I claw at my ears,
I hear them just the same.
They always have something to say.
I always get sucked into their game.

I know it doesn’t matter,
that I should stand up on my own,
Find my voice and use it,
on and on they drone.

Self portrait Tuesday- Introduce yourself

A recently finished self portrait, one down nine to go!


The Boho girl has tagged me, so I too will combine this week’s introduction with her do/don’t list. Here goes:

I do like learning new things
I don’t like how long it takes me to learn them, I am a slow learner.

I do like Motown
I don't like rap.

I do like cooking.
I don't like baking, I stink at it.

I do like having so many amazing girl friends.
I don’t like being so far away from everyone.

I do like reading books at night before bed.
I don’t like how quickly I seem to be falling asleep lately!

I do like beautiful spring days! Especially here when the mountains are still snow topped and the water is so blue.
I don’t like really hot days and too much sun. Do you think that will be a problem in Africa?

I do like dogs and cats.
I don’t like having to clean up their fur and poop.

I do like having long hair.
I don’t like the time it takes to blow it dry!

I do like having curves and being a woman.
I don’t like my thighs!

I do like taking road trips.
I don’t like driving.

I do like eating healthy and taking care of my body.
I don’t like diets.

I do like being open and honest with friends and family.
I don’t like when people are not open and are defensive and attacking.

Sunday Scribblings- My Shoes

My shoes~current faves Rocket Dog canvas mary janes with cherries and rhinestone skull.

I am not a great collector of shoes these days. I know they can be beautiful works of art and that they can “make an outfit”. In days gone by I was much more conscious of my shoes. I wouldn’t wear an outfit if I didn’t have the right shoe to complete it, and would willlingly aquire blisters for beauty. Don’t get me wrong, I am still all girl and recognize the beauty of a Jimmy Choo or a Manolo but for many years now my focus has shifted elsewhere.

I went to the tropics for a marine biology course when I was in college. It was my first experience with poverty. I remember the children from the near by village running around with no shoes. I remember looking at the thick skin on their feet, built up to protect them as they ran through the mangrove forests, the hot city streets and mountain trails. Some were lucky and had shoes. They would wear the same pair for years and cutting the toes off when their feet out grew them to wear them like an open toed sandal. I would look at these children and think of my over stuffed suitcases.

I had packed for every eventuality. I had dresses with matching shoes for clubs, trainers for hikes, flip-flops for the beach and many other assorted outfits designed for various activities. It suddenly seemed strange to place so much importance whether or not I looked perfect, on if I had the right shoe.

Growing up in an upper middle class suburb of Northern California, poverty was not something I had any direct experience with. I grew up in a land of nice family homes with kids who had new school clothes every year. I knew it was out there, it just didn’t really have a root in my awareness.

Like most girls, my closet plays host to several different types of shoes. My dress shoes, my versatile tall boots, my trusty Uggs (that are now 11 years old!), my converse that I wear almost daily and my trusty running shoes that I hope will keep me from any more stress fractures. Since that first trip, my shoes have taken me on many travels. Trips to Central and South America, Europe and soon they will come with me to live in Africa. I am grateful that I have had the luxury of so many pairs of shoes. Shoe choices. Life choices.

In thinking about this Sunday Scribbling topic and all the many ways I could go with it…I kept coming back to that first life-altering trip. To the memory of those kids and their sweet spirits and bare feet. To the knowledge that meeting them had altered me in a very meaningful and profound way. I left all of my shoes save one pair to get me home with the children of the village. I also left them all my paper, colored pencils and my gratitude for teaching me so much.

I think I took away more than I left behind.

Poetry Thursday

Unlike many of you talented ladies, I am no writer but oh how I wish I were! I wrote this song Saturday night and thought, hey a song is a kind of poem right? I hope you enjoy.
This is a fiirst for me!! I have NEVER shared a poem or song I have written ever!! I am quaking with fear and embarassment but in the interest of being open and sharing with all of you who have come to mean so much to me, here goes.

The rain is falling sideways,
it’s freezing here tonight.
The sky is black like velvet,
no moon to give it light.
I stumble towards the streetlight, guided by its hum,
expecting to find the orange glow,
but I can’t see a thing.

I think that I am screaming,
my throat’s sore and tired.
I know that I was running,
there are blisters on my feet.
Everything’s confusing
and I don’t feel like me.

The clouds are parting,
it’s twilight,
my favorite time of day.
Face turned toward the changing,
a thorn bush cuts my arm.
I watch the blood rise to the surface,
but I can’t feel a thing.

I think that I am screaming,
my throat’s sore and tired.
I know that I was running,
there are blisters on my feet.
Everything’s confusing
and I don’t feel like me.

Scanning all the faces,
their lips move up and down.
I know their words are final,
and I am on the ground.
The chaos rushes at me,
everyone talking all at once.
But I can’t hear a thing.

I think that I am screaming,
my throat’s sore and tired.
I know that I was running,
there are blisters on my feet.
Everything’s confusing
and I don’t feel like me.

Spring has sprung the flowers,
they’re blooming all around.
The bees and birds are feeding,
there’s color on the ground.
I pick a rose and lift it,
It’s strange and light in my hand,
I raise it to fall in
But I can’t smell a thing.

I think that I am screaming,
my throat’s sore and tired.
I know that I was running,
there are blisters on my feet.
Everything’s confusing
and I don’t feel like me.

They’re all here to help,
as they pour out some wine.
I see it in their faces,
and I know it’s time.
Burgundy liquid swirls up inside the glass,
then it drips back down.
But I can’t taste a thing.

I think that I am screaming,
my throat’s sore and tired.
I know that I was running,
there are blisters on my feet.
Everything’s confusing
and I don’t feel like me.

I don’t feel like me.

Self portrait Tuesday- Introduce yourself

I all ready confessed to my love of nacho cheese food, so what else can I tell you?

I hate driving it terrifies me! I didn’t start driving until I was 30 and moved to a city with awful public transport. Out of fear, I get road rage when I see others driving irresponsibly. I am not proud of this fact but I must own it. My son has outed me as a road rage sufferer on more than one occasion. Once while we were in the car with my in-laws a truck cut us off. His little three-year-old voice chimed out from his car seat, “You jack-ass! That’s what you say when someone does that right mom.” Gulp.

I am a huge daydreamer. Sometimes I am so immersed in my thoughts that I completely forget what I am doing and where I am going.

I love musicals. I know they can be cheesy but I just love ‘em. I want to jump out of my seat and run on stage, shove the lead out of the way and sing and dance. It just looks like so much fun!

I am an aromatherapy nut. It really has a strong effect on me!!! My favorite scent is a mix of lavender, orange, and geranium.

I wanted to be an actress when I was young. I was too afraid to tell my parents and go for it so it has been an unrealized dream. I am thinking of taking drama classes and trying to do regional theatre. I think stage performing would just be so amazing!

My dad died a year ago last month and I still think about him every day. I often forget he is gone and have to remind myself which makes me sad all over again.

I obsess over the size of my thighs. It is a daily struggle.