Searching for Ground

Traveling to town one day not long ago, 

delicate mists hovering over frozen water 

called to me to pause and dream. Its seems 

there hasn't been much time for dreaming of late, 

and I feel out of sorts. One moment deep and 

sorrowful, the next, feeling a slight glimmer of hope -

my mood brightening or darkening, like the sunshine 

on a day of blowing clouds. 

On my calendar today, I marked the morning with 

DREAMING TIME. Strange, when the gentle flow 

of my days seem more like a staccato dance between

lists and to find my center I must schedule it. Its not 

my way, and its at these times I'm most aware of 

how the life I've crafted is so different from 

cultural norms. 

After my Qigong routine, I sat at my altar, noticing 

 the crow feather shadow dancing on my drum. I wonder

if you notice the bear hiding in the skin? I've never 

photographed this drum before, and as I write, 

I see that the bear is very visible. There is a story 

here, from many moons ago, when I first came to 

this land and found myself surrounded by large and 

friendly bears. I not only met them in the forest, 

but they came to me in dreams and meditations, 

and quite clearly wanted my attention. 

Below, a Zuni White Bear fetish. 

During that time, I had a sound healing practice, 

and needed a new drum. At a sound healing conference, 

I picked up a drum, and was instantly in love. The maker 

told me it was a bear drum, and way out of my price range. 

I played the others, and was much taken with the drum 

above, though not in the "gut" way I had been with the bear 

drum. After a few days of playing it however, I began to see a 

bear-like picture emerge from the skin. So I wonder, do you see it? 

It is just to the right of the feather shadow, and has dark 

eyes. I think of it as a Spirit Bear. Maybe someday, if I'm 

lucky, I'll travel to British Columbia and see one. 

Bears find their way onto my shelves, along with owls, 

trees, cats, a woman with her sacred broom, 

and my Santo from years ago when my father 

had a factory in Puerto Rico. Today, however, 

was a day full of crows. 

This one visited as Pasha and I sat below the big hemlock 

in the moss garden. I in a chair that is accessible without snow

shoes for the first time since late December, and Pasha on bare ground

snoozing in the sun. All day the crows flew by, 

many landing in nearby trees to squawk for a while. 

Pasha has been a happy kitty lately, outside a lot 

enjoying the mossy hillsides where the snow has melted.

Even the snow mountain in front of the studio is 

melting away. I almost lost my boot in the deep 

mud at the edges of the driveway

twice today, a soggy, mucky mess!

A bunch of self-inflicted business deadlines have kept

me out of the studio, but since in this post I seem to be 

telling you new things about myself, I think I'll share 

another thread of my work. I sometimes wonder if 

I scatter my focus with the different kinds of 

work I do, but it has always been this way, so 

I continue. In a way, its all these threads that 

weave together the many stories that live in me. 

Sometimes I must make these drawings - 

a bit more narrative or mythic. 

Here, A Man. 

Here, A Woman with Ravens.

Lately, as I find myself searching for my

ground, these Women Who Live in the Roots

keep appearing to me. They feel like 

important allies right now, 

holding rootedness for me, 

holding spirals: 

the keepers of 

ancient women's 

wisdom.