Loba at Turning

Point of Ripening, The Loba at Turning

Honoring the poet, Diane di Prima,

I share her words with you.

“Is there a myth for the female

middle aged


large breasted not

quick footed



That rich time when the harvest

is not yourself

You no longer need

to claim it.

“I have come to know myself

I have gathered


from everywhere”

“I am you, I must become you

I have been you, I am always you

I must become you.”

The Pleasure of Hay

My friend Winnie receives her hay in a mesh bag.

She has to tug small nibbles at a time.

I helped her sneak bigger bites …..

it feels so good to have a full tummy!

We have been surrounded by wild fires

and my nervous system was wound tight

but listening to Winnie’s steady chewing was so peaceful,

her deep contented inhale, horse breath

her warm breath felt on my neck.

I begun to yawn and yawn, letting go.

It’s how we animals regulate.

How we get back into out bodies

after a fight, flight or freeze situation.

Ingest, digest, yawn, breathe.


John will from time to time

recite with joy, a line from Conan the Destroyer, saying

“What is Best in Life”?

I wish you could hear him,

pure Conan the barbarian.

( this painted rock is for his 72d birthday next month)

I find myself returning to earlier times

when I used to make things

when all gifts were homemade.

A Marigold for Nandi

In need of renewal and connection

I offer to Nandi, the sacred cow,

a stem from the last of the marigolds.

Spirit has been trying to get my attention for days.

A wooden box fell from a high shelf

and splintered at my feet.

It contained my grandmother’s birth certificate,

Oct 9th 1893 and her baptism.

My grandmother reminds me of Nandi,

round and soft and worn.

Today’s puja, the ritual of placing a flower

is for my grandmother and

the soft receptive qualities of the feminine

needed now, in all her forms.

Beloved America

The heavy hand of illusion

presses hard on the breath of the nation.

In the game of tug of war

I want to pull you over the line

until we all fall down, laughing.

Time magazine referred to our current President

as The Disruptor

and Joe Biden as The Challenger.

The blessed neutrality of architypes,

the timeless nature of storytelling

honoring each role in the play of Lela.

Beloveds all, Place your Vote!

Do You Want to Fight or Win

With my fists up by my face,

ready to take you out with a punch,

addicted to being mad,

I sold my soul to the devil

and I didn’t even blink.

At my age and in these times,

can old habits at least be seen?

But this is still safe territory,

what if I burn the book of your transgressions?

Then What?????

Will my soft round animal body be ok?

Will it flourish?

Will it laugh out loud?

Delighting in your smile

and seeing all manner of things reinvented.

Fighting is not winning,

What story do I want to tell?

Mouse in the Garden

mouse in the garden (4)

Miss Mouse comes out faithfully every night

when I am watering the garden,

making sure that I see her

as she walks up the same garlic stalk

night  and night!


It’s been a loaded summer,

our intoxicating attachment to “story”

mine , yours and everyone’s.

But nature insists that we learn

the most basic of truths

and most of us do it the hard way.


They say that you’re not ready to change

until you “bottom out”.

I like the word “bottom”.

“Sandy Bottoms” is a place my dad

used to grab a beer and a gruber sandwich.


The medicine of mouse

is to pay attention to details

but not to forget the whole.


Our journey is a circle,

no beginning or end

but we sure do make a lot out of it!








A Place Unclaimed

flowerpot girl

“When might I abide in such a place

A place unclaimed and ownerless,

That’s wide and unconfined,

a place where where I might stay

At liberty, without attachment”


A passage from The Way of the Bodhisattva,

composed by Shantideva in the 14th century.

I have been working with this material for many months

illustrating one passage at a time.

Their red boat


red boat woman (3)


1. The drifting old couple

still water fishing.

She will catch his eye

wearing that red shirt

the color of the boat they love.


2. I suggested that we sleep outside

to catch  the shooting stars of mid August.

Feeling our years,

we grumble as we drag out mattresses,

he refusing an extra blanket

and did get cold like I knew he would.

But those stars welded their magic

and this morning my smile has softened

I’m such a tough old nut!