Honey is the better bet and I promise to deliver

But there is a difficulty in paradise ….

We love our absolutes- our particular concept of God

And the myriad other beliefs we cling to-

Giving full authority to our questionable minds.

“We are so sure we are right”

Not seeing that our thoughts are built on assumptions

That are too deep to know that they are even there.

But what to do?

“““““““““““““`

Eat the honey of not knowing

Suspend- knowing- even just a little

Owning that ours is a conditioned mind

Righteously saying, “the evil is over there”

So beware of the drunken shadow of absolutes

We can not make ourselves safe here…

It’s a rough ride on the wings of bees

Hello flowers.

“Let the images speak for themselves”, she suggested

And for some reason these words opened my heart and – I sobbed

At the recognition of my profound friendship

With the animacy of my art- the living being

Called Painting

Jumping realms to be with me- Painting has

Advanced my weary soul, sipping the living water

I stand before you, not alone-

Amazed and a bit transcendent

Animacy takes the lid off.

The bow is stretched – the hand poised for action

It’s “we” two that make the painting

Art comes through us into the world.

And to see me through the tenuous gate

And I felt the animacy of my art

“Be Yourself” says the unicorn on her shirt

Nudging us forward with her spiraled horn-

The magical kingdom – the one hidden in plain site

The honeyed land- the feminine journey.

The integrity of Self.

Our potent, magically, insightful, delightful

Creative, knowledgeable, wise, dynamic

Intuitive, artistic, earth-bound human like trees

Faithful ( to ourselves first)

Unique, smart, funny, charming, clever.

Hand user, washer woman,

Daughter, Sister, Mother, Grandmother, Aunt

Freedom Fighter, Ship’s Navigator, Astronaut.

Happy International Women’s Day!

The wizard asked the dragon to spread her wisdom

In places of entrenched misery and war

Places of ” power over “instead of “power with”.

The old mythology has stubborn roots but will not prevail

Each of us have to believe in our personal light

The importance of it- that we matter in ways we can’t understand.

The she dragon rests briefly now at the banks of my river

Like light on the water …I am.

The infinite truth instantly known.

In this right brain drawing exercise-

Choose an object to draw

I chose a cup….really staring at it

In a Contour Line Drawing way-

The eye moving slowly as does the hand

And at the same time

Bring to my mind- a personal problem

And see what is revealed by the Right Brain.

““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““

My eye loved the dark void-

The empty space of the cup’s center

Comforted too by it’s outer form- so solid.

The Yin and the Yang….

But for now-I lean toward the void.

Drawing as a kind of fortune telling..

The luxury of personal insight- it’s free.

““““““““““““““““““““““

In contour line drawing-

You stive to really see- so while staring at a object

You allow your pencil to form the line that your eye is seeing

You are not to look at your paper while your pencil is moving.

And the slower you go – the better.

The birds chase each other

In a dance of feathers and seed

Faithfully-refilled daily, so it’s full.

Such abundance- content on their perch

Nibbling the moment…

““““““““““““““““`

Abundance is harder for us to claim

The dense layer of ” not enough”-

A successful societal hypnosis

In this land of plenty

That keeps us driven for more

A pension – a IRA – a plan for the fearful future.

But like the cheerful chirps I hear

We are receiving a new memo

“Be on notice, Gene key 55 is upon us”

A huge shift is in the lifting air

A kind of buoyancy

As we drift on the invisible currents

That were there all along…

Drifting now, I bump into you

How very pleasant.

Some days just start out wrong

And you can just never get them back on track,

Descending barometer sleigh ride down hill.

John and I have an ancient fight

Which will never get any purchase….

It just makes claw marks in the sand. Most likely

Unresolvable issues with our deceased fathers.

Jay says of Dad at the end of his novel….

“I never knew the origin of his unhappiness

Or if the broken in him

Was given away at birth and he had no say in the matter.

I do know it’s always been a scandal to say,

“I love you, How do we fix this? Please forgive me.”

I never heard him say these words so now

I say these words for him

Thinking maybe he still needs help in this department

And anyway, I’m the only one left on earth

Who knows his name,

I’m the only one who can say,

“Let’s go out on the water Vital Bow and hoist the sail

And see if we can sort out those parts

Of ourselves we never understood”

Jay’s asking a very important question here-

Can we love complicated people?

The non-conforming axis where we meet.

“““““““““““““““““““““““

Jay White’s novel,

The Last Tale of Nora Bow

Comes out in Aug of 24.

Priscilla’s house is staged to sell

It looks picture perfect

Many of my paintings are hung

To good effect-

Priscilla and I always were a good match.

But when I turned to notice

The tall pot with a lid that she’s made

The one I stuffed the bag of her ashes into

I had to laugh.

She’s still overseeing the proceedings..

Even in her dusty form.

Oh unsuspecting house buyer

We, her friends, preparing the house

Are an unconventional lot….

But no one will look in the pot.

““““““““““““““““““““““““`

I’m new to a Qigong class for seniors

It’s Taoist philosophy….

The cosmos is available

As we scoop it – sweeping above with the hand

So many stars

That each of us have our very own star.

Winking in the night

Like at wish upon a star- it’s me.

My niece asked me at the birthday party- about

Me not drinking- wondering about it?

I said – “It’s not a good fit”

I use it to cope emotionally

With what’s difficult or hard – like

Navigating a social situation

Which is especially hard on Projectors ( my Human Design type)

We passionately want to be of help ( sometimes to our own detriment)

So claiming my unique assets and being conscious of my limitations

Knowing this- I made fire for the land and me

And snapped this gift from the photo gods

So delightful to see- my shadow self

Effortlessly and sweetly too

Holding the Stone of Being.

No effort- what a great metaphor.