pictures I want to paint

people with candles where their hearts should be, or stars, shining out to show our true selves past who we think we are

my victim self pulling my real self behind her on a cart, the power self is tied up, unable to move or act because the victim is running my life for me,

morning face… the face i have on in the morning before my first cup of coffee to wake me up

a wave of the sun destroying the earth, like in that film presagio, I had a dream about it where I was trying to hide in cow shit to protect myself. Meaning of dream? I think I was afraid of the suns power and being swallowed up by its flames and so I hide in cow shit. Cow shit= waste from a domesticated animal who gives and gives and gives, or rather we take and take and take. I realised a few days later that the sun will only burn the pysical selfs, that which is not light and my essence would be left. We are all light anyway pretending to be humans.

the picture I drew in Cancun of a male figure standing beside the sea perspiring because of the heat, the sun blazes in the top left hand corner, maybe i will put a fish in each drop of persperation. Water… emotions…. the mind…

sun and moon

I wish for…

letting go to flow free.. open hands and let the bird fly away, no point in making wishes and then holding them so tightly they smother!

I wish for a gift of clarity

I wish for a gallery to show my work in, to have an exhibition to work towards

I wish for success for my business

I wish to write always from the heart so even if I get it wrong sometimes I have done my best

I wish for a happy life for me and Paul

I wish for a really cool old car to drive around

I wish that my puppy and my cat will get on when they meet.. I anticipate fireworks!

what do you all wish for?

a sense of perspective

Standing on Sandymount strand one early evening with my bike propped against my hip I gaze out into the sands and pools of shimmering water left by the outgoing tide that stretch for easily a mile out of shore. The sky is that wonderful almost transparent blue/purple that has a promise of mystery and a hint of things hidden about to be revealed. The sun has just dropped below the horizon of houses behind me, the moon is just peeking over the horizon in front of me and just up to the right Venus shines in her first star glory.

I begin to do a mental exercise. I imagine it all in 3d. I put the sun behind me and the earth a ball on which I stand spinning on its axis on its orbit around the sun. I put the moon on its smaller orbit around the earth and Venus on her orbit, a smaller one closer to the sun and moving faster then we are. I put aside all notions of up or down or flat orbits and I place us all in space, where these considerations do not apply

I play with this idea for a minute, and then suddenly it hits me with full force. It becomes real. I look up/down/sideways and grip my bike tightly as if to give me weight. There is nothing above me. Nothing, really nothing holding me onto this spinning ball we call home. There is no such thing as ‘sky’; that is a word made to give us a safe concept of having a roof over our heads. Only reason its blue during the day is because of reflecting light. I have incredible vertigo for a few seconds and then slowly it passes and I am once more feet on solid ground again.

Thank you gravity, whatever you are!

‘I’

A girl sits on a stone on the sea shore, lonely for her friend who moved away. She sits and remembers and feels very alone. The sea is grey and the waves are endless and there is a chill on the air that makes her shiver. She makes up a story about a sea creature, the spirit of this place who also has lost a friend. This friend left the sea shore and went on search of where he belonged in the world. The sea has no answers, only shifting moods of colour and tide.

She tries to write the story to avoid the ache in her own heart and she can write endless reams of dream prose, of sea grays and blues and pangs of loss and loneliness and all from the perspective of the creature left behind who cannot leave the shore and must sit and wait endlessly for the friends return.

The creature bemoans the fact that she had ever met this ‘other’ because before that she had no memories. She thinks she might have been happy. She remembers light and darkness and water and wind and movement of crabs and anemones back and forth across the shore but no more than that. She remembers warmth and cold and the bright sun and the silver moon that changed shape as the sea changed shape and the waters inside her also were pulled back and forth.

The first real day the creature remembers in full, as a whole day, from dawn to dusk with awakenings in-between was the day the ‘other was washed up on the shore and opened its eyes and looked straight at her.

Here the girl becomes stuck and cannot go any further. She cannot imagine what these two would say to each other. Maybe she does not want to imagine. It would make too real what she has just lost and so she reads and rereads what she has already written and she skips to write the end where the ‘other’ has gone again and she is back with her creature on the sea shore mourning its loss and now awake and conscious of her loneliness.

The other is made of what people have thrown into the sea and brought to life by all the unanswered unfulfilled dreams that the sea holds for us until we are ready to receive them. The creature is the soul of the sea and can’t understand why the other would need to go in search of something that was already here.

That was then and this is now and the girl healed her heart and resolved her loss and found what she was looking for. The moon made her a gift of a silver heart, a little battered but still whole, the sun made her a gift of wisdom, the wind gave her a push out into the world and the world gave her a true friend to share her life with. Now maybe the story can be written from both sides and brought to an end. x.

life, death and all the other stuff in between

Life

I went to Teotihuacan recently for a ceremony for the death of an old shaman woman named Sarita. Her son was there and his sons and wifes and all the people she had touched during her life whether directly, through the people she had taught and healed or indirectly like me who had never met her but felt it was important to be there.

The reason why this is in the life part is that death is not a dissapearing rather a passing onto somewhere else. The reason I went is not that I was sad she was dead but to honour her life here and the teaching that she passed onto others including me. She passed it onto her son (Miguel Ruiz, he wrote the ´Four aggreements’ you might have heard of the book) who passed it onto the teacher I work with who is passing it onto me. This teaching has been around since before the aztecs, way before that and went underground when the spanish arrived here in mexico. Each generation gets it, changes it slightly and then passes it onto the next one. The essence remains the same however. Knowledge of self, stalking the self, to be in your own centre and power with your own connection to the heart. It was great to be there.

Death

I had my principals tested the other night. I have been bemoaning that fact that we kill anything we see that is slightly dangerous to us. Spiders, scorpions, snakes, wolves, bears, tigers, rats, all get squished under the heel of the human fear of death.

The other night wandering around the house with a torch to see what I could see (counting the scorpions on the wall outside, the bumbling june bugs in their season of dying, the praying mantis waving back and forth doing its best to look like an innocent twig swaying in the wind) when in the corner of the kitchen shiny black, with the ever so familar bright red hour glass shape on its belly was the classic spider of all the spiders…. the black widow. I looked at it for ages and then thought “I suppose I should kill it” The idea of going back to bed with it still in the kitchen didn´t appeal to me. I was still looking at it when it ran back under the cupboard. I went and put on boots and got the broom, checked the corners and turned the cupboard over. Got a towel and squished it. I really didn´t want to but I suppose I discovered that a black widow spider outside is one thing but a black widow spider in my kitchen was another thing entirely. I thought of catching it but to tell the truth I was kind of nervous about it, my mind was telling me about death and bites and poisin and generally creating fear. 

Just checked on the net and apperently they are not very deadly, their venom (15 times stronger than a rattlesnake) produces severe muscle cramps (very painful) for about three days and hospitals generally prescribe morphine for the pain. The anitvenom actually kills more people than the venom. Old, sick, pregnant and children are most at risk of dying. Maybe the next time I won’t be so scared and catch it instead of killing it. One of the mine workers got bitten by a Violin Spider in Chihuahua and he is still in hospital with operations on his arm. I guess its easy to be idealistic about thiese things when you grow up in a country which has no dangerous anythings what so ever…. not even ants that bite!

all the other stuff in between

the dogs got their injections and the puppy shrieked and yowled for about ten minutes. Puppies are such babies. Went to the vet the next day and got pipettes to give it by the mouth, much better.

and now go outside look up at the sky and see past the blueness of the sky and think about the fact that we are on a spaceship of green and blue and things growing and dying but always changing, in the middle of nothing sailing round a huge ball of light and warmth. We get so lost in our little fears and desires. We don´t actually have to do anything except be here and live and learn how to be happy and let it all flow until its time to go, time to leave this place and go travelling again. Thats my hippy thought for the day… man

x clio

woodland bird

On the drive through dirt roads and tall mountains covered in trees I saw a log on the side of the road which looked like a big bird. You know the way that happens. I got a feeling of a huge bird under the mountains, asleep, or singing softly. And me standing on top of the world (which is kind of what its like driving through these mountains in chihuahua). This is what emerged, the bird I saw was much darker, it being dusk and all. The green things in the ground are seeds waiting to become and the bird on the sky is waiting for the girl to walk to the sun.

death and rebirth

born from the old the new comes flying forth, a rabbit leaps upwards in green growing plants, seeds yet to be germinated wait for their time to take nutrients from the earth and burst forth into life.

x spring time!

Oil painting #2

So, birds are messengers between ourselves and the other world. i am sending my wish to the universe and it flies outward to bring it to the heart of all, the source. The earth supports me in this, she looks on happily sending me inspiration so I can find the exact right words I need in order to frame my wish. She holds the sun within herself and the moon  in her hand through all its phases of waxing and waning.
I have finished these and are already planning the next two. Getting to grips once more with oil paints and I am having ideas I want to try out…. such fun!

letting go

So… it is time to get the new years resolution into action! I decided this year I would try and clear as much of my past as I could. Release old ways of thinking and behaviours that don’t work any more, finish projects or definitely say good bye to projects that aren’t working. Use up the big pile of fabrics I have on the floor of my work room before I can buy new fabrics. I get more inventive when I have to improvise.

I did this once before, about four years ago when I was coming to mexico for the first time. I reckon, looking back, I was about 95% ruthless. I burnt old diaries and sketches and stories and writings that I had been hanging onto since secondary school. I went through my clothes and books and jewelry and gave away anything that I never wore or rarely wore or just some items I knew a friend would really like. It was really hard to do but I felt so light after it was all gone.

Clearing the past is not forgetting people or places or times but rather clearing any old negativity or limitation round the memory and remembering with love and acceptance. It also clears any energy blocks that are preventing me from going forward or achieving my goals.

I bought paper this morning to get started on the illustrations for the crow story and I have three nearly done embroideries waiting for borders and a skirt hanging waiting for a hem. All the new stuff can wait for a week or so while I get everything sorted.