Voice

Coyote Calls to the Protectors (war dress)
Coyote Calls to the Protectors (war dress)

This is my voice–imagination, experience, emotion, and action becoming colour and mark and word. Energy into tangible object. Magic.

I am here before you, offering my heart, spirit, mind, and body as one, shaped into the marks on this page, paper, screen. Touch my drawing, touch my writing, and you touch me.

Here is the process of my seeing, the tracing of my thoughts. A conversation begun and passed to you. Here is my voice reaching to hear yours. Will you answer?

This is who I am. The translation of love into creativity.

This is who I am. Artist. Writer. Creator. Magician.

Let me hear your voice. Let the world hear your voice, the unique creative force that you are. A silent voice is no voice at all. A silent voice is a loss to all the world. Speak, draw, act, dance, write, compose, play, sing. Imagine. Create.

Show me who you are. Show the world who you are.

Talk with me.

________________________________

The Cheshire Cat talks to me.

Crowgirl, it names me.

Artist, it says.

Ghosts and magic drip from your fingers,

pulled from the pages of your heart.

Crowgirl words, the only language.

Use them if you dare.

Incantations

speaking to that which is not there,

rubbing away all

except the smile.

________________________

Happy Birthday, Lyle!  I Love You. xo

 

 

Love Love Love

Coyote Sings to a Broken World
Coyote Sings to a Broken World

Two days ago a friend on Facebook asked a question.

How do I stay in love when my open heart knows another’s anguish, and I can’t help but feel it with them?

I know my friend three years now, through her words and photos. Her heart is big. Her love goes deep. Other people’s wounds feel like her own. She is working on healing the whole world.

I understand her. I feel the same. I want to choose love over fear, care and compassion over hate.

I do the one thing I can do. The biggest thing I can do. What His Holiness the Dalai Lama talks of—internal disarmament.

I keep opening my heart. I keep choosing love, again and again and again. I let my love free. Smile. Say hello. Be open. Be kind. To those I meet, whether I know them or not. Whether their outer appearance and manner scares some part of me or not. See them. They have a heart that wants to feel love too.

Do I sound like a Pollyanna? A simpleton?

Things are much more complicated than that, people say to me. You can’t expect to change the world, they say.

I hear you. But I have to start somewhere.

I am being the hummingbird in Michael Nicoll Yahgulanaas’ story. Drop by drop I lay water on the fire. I do what I can.

Let us all do what we can.

 

*    *   *   *   *

Wide and still

I hold my heart.

Let spirit write her path in me.

Let love breathe her breath in me.

Let need call forth to serve in me.

Let grace be every step for me.

Let joy become the song in me.

Let connection open space for me.

Let creation be all play in me.

Let action be the choice for me.

Still and wide

I hold my heart.

Let all life find its home in me.

_____________________________________

In this post:

Michael Nicoll Yahgulanaas, with Wangari Maathai and His Holiness the Dalai Lama, book Flight of the Hummingbird, Greystone Books, 2008. Michael’s website – http://mny.ca – has an animated video of this story. Look under ‘Press’, then ‘Video’.

His Holiness the Dalai Lama – www.dalailama.com

Wangari Maathai – http://www.greenbeltmovement.org/wangari-maathai

Happy

Blackbird Dance (family stories)
Blackbird Dance (family stories)

I wake up happy this morning. Love it when this happens. I am warm under my comforter. (Perfect name, that—comforter.) Along with happy I feel deliciously lazy, rested. There is sunlight against my bedroom blinds, and shadows of trees getting pushed and shaken by the wind.

Happy.

It isn’t even a choice this morning. I didn’t have to stop and deliberately, consciously, meaningfully choose happy. Happy just is.

I could be this forever. Right now always.

Peaceful. Settled. Nothing niggling at me. Body and head all comfortable. Heart and spirit peaceful.

I fell into happy this morning, even before I woke up.

Such a gift.

It feels like waking on the first morning of summer vacation. Though my calendar tells me today summer is passed. It is the Fall Equinox, and Yom Kippur, and Mabon. A blessing day today. Balance. Full. Perfect.

I am sitting at my work table now, in my studio. Vince Guaraldi and David Benoit and George Winston playing piano for me, Charlie Brown music. Watching the wind pull and push at the aspens and the firs. The aspens have become gold this past week, brilliant against the blue sky and the dark of the firs. When their leaves fall, we will have Dorothy’s yellow brick roads everywhere through the woods around the house.

Happy. I accept this gift of happy.  Thank you.

Knowing

laid to rest east detailI am six years old.  I know I am a writer and an artist.  I know I am a creator.  I translate the world into image and word.  It makes me happy, gives me joy.  I am in love with writing, drawing, the world, me.

I don’t choose it.  I just do it.  I look at the beauty of the world.  I feel it.  I write it.  I draw it.  Whatever comes to me goes onto the paper.

This is play.  Easy, fun, exciting.  New all the time.

I know who I am, my true heart.

Fifty years later.  Here.  Now.  Who am I?

I am Cat, recreating herself in her true image.

Shedding old patterns.  Shedding all the things other people told me I was and was not.  Shaking off what no longer helps me on my path.  Refusing to accept what I know is not true for me.cathy.img447 Dec 66

I am moving back in, this place, this heart, true to myself.  True to the six year old who knew without doubt.

Draw.  Write.  Play.  Love.

The summer morning joy list

Blackbird Dance (desire)
Blackbird Dance (desire)

I’m outside this morning on the back deck.  Here in our summer home, writing my summer joy list.  All the things that fall into this moment like pearls on a string, in my lap to be played with, loved, enjoyed, relaxed into.

Yes.  Relaxing into summer.  Mmmmmmmm.

 

Morning sun, warming me, loving me.

Blue blue sky.

White clouds passing.

Wind in the trees and the grape vines, the kiwis and the lilacs.  Shaking the leaves and branches, whispering ‘play with me’ and ‘grow’.

Hummingbird on the clothes line, viewing his world, taking his coffee break at the foxgloves.

Baby crow on the rooftop, demanding, begging, ‘feed me’.  He started calling at daybreak.  He has been fed several times.  He’s still hungry.

Folding chairs unfolded, settled into with blanket and pillow.  Feet up, lap full of binder and loose leaf paper for writing.  Hand full of neon pink pen with pink ink (shades of Dr. Seuss).

Words.  Blessing and gift.

 

This is my summer morning joy list.

What’s yours?

Pilgrim

Archangel (Sariel)
Archangel (Sariel)

I’ve been listening to Sonia Choquette on the Hay House World Summit 2015.  Sonia talks about walking the Camino de Santiago across northern Spain.  Eight hundred kilometers.  Five hundred miles.  A pilgrimage.  She carries grief on the long walk.  Deaths of a brother and father, the breaking of a long marriage, the certainty of failure in her life’s work.  She walks and forgives, walks and lets go.  Finds her way through to Santiago, balance, and home.

I am a pilgrim in my own life.  Finding my way.  The map is my heart.  I walk with my map open, certain and sure of each loving, joyful step.  I walk with my map closed, lost and aching, blind and stumbling.  Refusing to see and feel.  Refusing to take the single action that will save me—open my heart again.

Stubborn has been one of my words, and sometimes it fits me like a tailored suit of clothes.  Resistant.  Unwilling.  Yes, those too.  I’ll do it myself.  Say this quietly.  Pretend to go along with other people’s agendas, and then shift to the side and onto my own path.

Focused is the word I use now, rather than stubborn.

I need to learn things on my own.  I can be told something, but I need to test it out, experience it for myself.  See and feel all through me, the truth of something.

An example.

Continue reading “Pilgrim”

I am Here

I held the earth and touched the sky (Mike)
I held the earth and touched the sky (Mike)

My heart is a map.  Where I have been.  Where I am now.  Where I am going.

It’s not a paper map, identical each time I unfold it to find my way.  It is simple to know where I am on a paper map.  The roads and pattern are always the same.  I see my place clearly, and mark it with an X.  I am Here.

My heart is the map of my life.  Like all maps, I must know where I am right now in order to journey to where I want to be.  To find my way on this map, I open my heart, and feel.  Where am I now?  Is it love, excitement, anger, sadness, joy, wonder, jealousy?  So many emotional places, I cannot name them all.  Ah, here I am.  Mark it with my X.  Homesick.

Is this where I want to be, in this place of homesick?  No, not really.  It doesn’t feel good, and I prefer ‘feel good’.  Don’t we all.

I have learned that clearly feeling where I am gives me information.  This place on the map of my heart, homesick, tells me I am longing for something, a something not fulfilled by where I am in my life at this moment.

This is what I do to find my way from homesick.

Continue reading “I am Here”

Postcard #2 – Be here now

IMG_0096I am at the lake.  Sun, sky, water.  Birds that I can’t see sing a chorus.  They’re all hiding in the trees.  The ice is gone.  The open water is cold but the ducks out there don’t seem to mind.  Two Canada geese are causing a ruckus.  Splashing, then flying, honking out the noisiest Spring courtship I have ever heard.

There was frost this morning and the thermometer read zero.  That was three hours ago, the sun still rising.  Now the sun is full high in the sky and there is heat where its light lays across my legs.  This is balm to my heart.  Open.  Feeling.

This is being present.  This is resting in what is all around me, here, now.  My body relaxes.  Nothing to fuss over.  Nothing to be ready for.  Just open. Listening.

I have coffee beside me.  Decaf with cream.  Caffeine and I don’t always get along.  I sip it.  Warm now rather than hot.  The air is cooling it.  Doesn’t matter.  I like cold coffee with cream as well.

This morning is a gift.  Mist on the hills at the far end of the lake.  A faint layer of cloud above me.  No wind.  The water is glass except where the ducks have passed by.  The geese are silent now, perhaps their courtship complete.  I wish them well.

This is peace and perfection.  Right here, right now, all of me is present to this moment, my life.  Head, body, heart, spirit.  Whole.  One.  There is no other place to be, no other thing to do except be here now, present, writing.