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
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,
the keepers of