Wednesday, September 30, 2009
I am trying to tell myself that I need to learn patience...I had the opportunity to sub today, but because I've been on the verge of vomitting since the middle of the night, I couldn't take the job...what a dissapointment. I can't tell you how much I just want to go and teach :( So, I'm trying to encourage myself that there is always a deeper meaning, and I am letting the Ancient Mother fill me up today. I hope this song fills you as well.
a couple of other things that I've found today that fill me:
Our Lady of the Red Thread
Red Dirt Mother
and I'm wondering about the "red" theme today - tribe, roots, a sturdy base, femininity, fire, passion, love, hearts...hmmmmm....not so subtle signs.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
John William Waterhouse's Lady of Shalott
Lying, robed in snowy white,
That loosely flew to left and right --
The leaves upon her falling light --
Thro' the noises of the night
She floated down to Camelot:
And as the boat-head wound along
The willowy hills and fields among,
They heard her singing her last song,
The Lady of Shalott.
Heard a carol, mournful, holy,
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her blood was frozen slowly,
And her eyes were darken'd wholly,
Turn'd to tower'd Camelot.
For ere she reach'd upon the tide
The first house by the water-side,
Singing in her song she song she died,
The Lady of Shalott.
Under tower and balcony
By garden-wall and gallery,
A gleaming shape she floated by,
Dead-pale between the houses high,
Silent into Camelot.
Out upon the warfs they came,
Knkight and burgher, lord and dame,
And round the prow they read her name,
The Lady of Shalott.
Who is this? and what is here?
and in the light palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer;
And they cross'd themselves for fear,
All the knights at Camelot:
But Lancelot mused a little space;
He said, "She has a lovely face;
God in his mercy lend her grace,
The Lady of Shalott."
Dante Gabriel Rosetti's Lady of Shalott
Monday, September 28, 2009
Sunday, September 27, 2009
This is an example of what the pages will look like.
I just never stop, do I?! I love having new things to do all the time :)
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Really hearing a bird sing or really seeing a blue sky, we touch the seed of the Holy Spirit within us.
Living Buddha, Living Christ (Thich Nhat Hanh)
I'm impressed with God lately. I mean, really impressed. It isn't hard for me to be in awe...I find myself in that state often in my life, but lately, I've been in a state of "humble awe."
The nature of the Divine is so wonderful and beautiful and real.
I've been finding out that LOVE really can eradicate fear. That LOVE is actually what does make the world go-round. It is actually LOVE that we all need.
Love for anything is Divine: love of jumping in leaves has to be one of the purest, most godly forms of love I've ever seen. Our family (mostly the kids) played in it for quite sometime. Mostly, as an adult, I was awed by the kids' absolute fulfillment with the leaf pile. My son raked it up (and used a leaf blower - another JOY IN LIFE THAT FILLED HIM UP TO BURSTING!!) and jumped in it, covered himself in it, layed in it, layed under it, swam in it and crushed it over and over and over again...with the same HUGE smile every time. I kept thinking, "That is LOVE at its most pure."
I've been thinking about how the fear of a thing can push the love out. It has come to my attention that Fear puts on a mask of Power that makes our love curl up underneath and sit waiting. Fear of rejection, fear of acceptance, fear of the truth (whatever it may be), fear of the lie, fear of the unknown, fear of the known, fear of death, fear of life...FEAR, I feel, is actually the opposite of LOVE...I think that even in hate, there is something of love. You have to actually love something in order to hate something else. That is the balance of hate and love.
However, FEAR doesn't need hate. Fear is something altogether much darker, much more sinister...fear is that chill up your arm when you hear something on the porch in the middle of the night...fear is that call in the early morning hours before the sun comes up...fear is calling for your child and not hearing anything...fear eats you up.
How do you get rid of fear?
You have to fill yourself up with LOVE. Put Love right over the top of Fear like a band-aid...a band-aid that never comes off, so that one day, when it comes time, you'll take off the band-aid to see what was under there and find only a faint scar of what it was...something you vaguely remember. When LOVE goes before fear, you've won...you've won...you've been filled up with SPIRIT, and you've won.
How, oh how, do we put our fear away?
Only with a spirit of mindfulness - only by putting LOVE first everytime you think of peeking under the band-aid. Only by prayer - ask for help for goodness sake! - only by faith that LOVE is stronger. LOVE is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my whole life, and it is STRONG.
Let it wrap you in its arms, let it enfold you...SEE beauty, Feel LOVE.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
and to gain applause which he cannot keep.
~Samuel Johnson, The Rambler, 1750~
Let us say that we have before us a dusty old hat, filled to the brim with slips of paper on which are written words. Some of them are just everyday words, like “tired”, “happy”, “bored”, “hungry.” Perhaps there are a few thrown in that are more complex like “synthesize” or “demonize”. Let us now suppose that each morning, for as long as you remember, you have pulled out one of these slips of paper. Before you even set foot out of bed, you have to read this word. Once you’ve read this word, this is how you are going to feel or act for that day. You believe that this is the final word for the day. Where you got the notion, you don’t remember. But this is how it’s always been, and you believe that’s how it’s going to be.
One morning you wake up with the sun shining, and you hear a red-winged blackbird outside your window. You take a deep breath of the bit of fresh air that is wafting over you from your partly open window. You feel something stirring inside your heart for today…it feels hopeful. You’ve been on a bad streak for two weeks in a row, grabbing words like “depress” and “dysfunction” and “dastardly”…you shudder to think what today might bring.
Slowly, blindly, you reach for the hat, and as you do, you hear the blackbird closer than before. Opening your eyes, you twist your head to see out your window, and there he is. He warbles at you again and you smile. “Hello?” Your voice sounds tentative, even to you. He flies away with a soft snap of his wings, and you decide to just get it over with.
With a deep exhale, your hand once again stirs blindly toward the hat, and just as your fingers touch the slips of paper, the blackbird warbles loudly. Startled, your hand drops and the old hat flips. Off fly the slips of paper, and the fresh spring breeze pulls them right out the window.
In amazement, you stare after them. They float like snowflakes across your yard, catching in the fence and fluttering in the branches of an old Elm tree. When you’ve recovered from your shock, you realize something astonishing: how will you know what to be or do or feel today, without the papers?
Sitting up in your bed, mouth agape, you stare down at the now overturned hat beside your bed. You lean down to pick it up, and as you do, you notice a corner of white paper stuck in the hatband. Quickly, you pluck this straggler out, then look inside the hat…yup…empty for sure, just this last one. With a sigh, you turn it over to read it; perhaps there is one last bit of direction from the hat after all. What you read, you don’t believe. You haven’t had this sort of word before. It makes no sense. It is bewildering, baffling, downright maddening. How could a word like this have made it into the hat? It isn’t something you’d ever bargained for. What would make someone put this word into the hat?
You turn it over, hoping for more. This seems to be more of a post script, or an unfinished game of hang man. This should not be happening. But there it is, in bold letters: MAYBE.
How would it feel to open your spirit each morning to the possibility of wonder and delight? Each day the practical matters may be no different than the day before. But if you’ve heard a little bird say, “Maybe,” then today has potential. It might change your morning. Perhaps you wake your children for school by rubbing their backs and saying, “Welcome to the day, sweetie,” rather than yelling up the stairs. Instead of grumbling with your head down at your desk, you might step into work with a light-hearted “Good Morning.” Greet your doctor’s appointments with openness, and a mind that is ready to accept a hopeful word. No matter what the day may bring, keep in mind the wisest word in the hat, “maybe.”
Write a story about a day in which “maybe” is the watchword. How would you greet each moment with hopefulness? Write about how it would go, from the moment you wake, until you lay your head on your pillow at night.
Then write the word “maybe” on a card, and place it on your night stand so it is the first thing you see in the morning. Be intent on coming to your senses in the morning, with “it may be” on your lips. Let hope settle itself into your bones as you begin each day. I don’t intend for you to “Polly-Anna” your way through life, and no one else will love you for that either. It won’t serve you to see the world through rose-colored window-panes. Instead, be hopeful. Hope is much wiser and far truer.
(from Who Am I Really? Finding Yourself Along Life's Pathway 2009 by Katie Estvold)
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
My days have been filled with my own agendas for 7 years. If I was late or made a deadline, they were MY deadlines or my lateness. If I was too busy to change into clothes I could be seen in public in, that was alright. If I wanted more money, I only needed to make more goodies to sell on my website. But now, I'm cultivating that long forgotten garden of Katie's Personal Dreams. I don't mean to say that my children weren't my dream, they MOST CERTAINLY ARE, however...I want to teach school again. I've been working so hard and being so diligent to get my substituting going and it seems that no matter what setbacks (if only I could just put up deer netting to fix these problems) there is always something out of my control...
So, here I am, having FAITH and WAITING.
I am never one to give up on a thing on account of roadblocks. I just forge ahead, set my tendrils out to curl around every available sturdy thing and I keep looking for the chance to grow some more, to poke up toward the sun - this is who we are, why should we quit when the going gets tough?
Inspire Me Mondays
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
I've tried the new moon tilted in the air
Sunday, September 06, 2009
Here I am. This is what I look like when I've let go. This is me thinking about how easy it was to finally just let it go. This is me thinking about life without holding onto the past. This is me.
I'm a holder. I don't just hold...apparently I hold it IN and let it stew around and build up...but I don't even want to talk about that anymore. I just want to breath in this new freedom.
I feel like this thistle: all prickle and sadness trying to cover it over and then in the fall, it burst open with fluff and those fuzzy little wishes that float off on the breeze. I found out that letting go of the old hurt was as soft and gradual as simply stepping over a line. First I was there, and now I am here. Simple as that. It was like sitting at the bottom of a mountain, crying that I would never get to the top...trying to find an easier way up the top...trying and trying to get there without actually climbing. I found that once I started the climb, I was, amazingly, already at the top. As simple, and as complex as all that.
When I woke up the next morning, I realized something was missing.
Anger had been my constant, unwelcome companion. But that morning, I found, it was gone.
I wondered at how gently and simply I had let it go. One moment I was thinking, "What will I be without this?" The next moment I decided, "I don't know what I'll be, but I have to feel differently." And that teensy tiny decision to want something different is what made a veil lift, a candle to be snuffed out, a step over a line, a poking of a seed into the dirt, a sigh...something simple had gotten rid of something so destructive.
Because it had gone so quietly, I had to make sure it was gone.
On 33 (one for every year of my life) teensy slips of paper I wrote things like, "I let go." and "I am filled with peace." and everything else I could think of that was gone...
Then I took them to Cold Springs, and I sent them on their way from the source of the spring. I was amazed at how they all just floated away, not hanging up on anything as they went. Then this last one, seemed to uncurl and did catch on a rock, so as I meant to prod it along, I saw what it said, "I let go anger."
Saturday, September 05, 2009
This time, I went to visit my artist friend Alma, literally walked through her front door and as I was giving her a hug I looked down at some new artwork she had sitting about and I latched onto this one and said, "What is this?! Oh my god, what is that?!" I looked closer and breathlessly said, "Alma...can I have this? I want this one."
I know it must've been made just for me.
You see, Alma listens and then she does.
That is the goddess within speaking - I am convinced of it down to my bones.
The "Divine She" talks to Alma, and she lays down fabrics and papers and paints and does it.
The colors of this piece are PHENOMENAL. The red is a metallic raspberry-beefsteak tomato. The turqouise is Clear Lake blue.
There are browns and creams and pinks and the most wonderful shade of lime.
It was made for me-I'm convinced of this also.
Do you see how the sun glints off of it? It reflects the light of a higher power.
Do you see the delicate courage of it? Do you see the strong femininity of it?
In the palms, I see flocks of birds, with only their eyes showing. I see hearts ready to give,
I see the tree of life and veins. I see the lotus, reflecting the idea that my life opens as the petals do...slowly and surely and oh so beautifully.
I see reflection and light and offering.
I see womanly parts reminding me of how sacred and beautiful and giving my body is.
And then, because there are no accidents, I knew I'd seen these hands many times before, and only just recently have been paying attention to them.
These hands are quite like the Hamsa:
The hamsa (Arabic: خمسة , khamsa, lit. five, also romanized khamsa and chamsa) is a palm-shaped amulet popular throughout the Middle East and North Africa. The hamsa is often incorporated in jewelry and wall hangings, as a defense against the evil eye. It is believed to originate in ancient practices associated with the Phoenicians of Carthage
This is The Hamsa prayer:
Let no sadness come through this gate,
Let no trouble come to these walls,
Let no conflict be in this place,
Let this home be filled with the blessing of joy and peace.
How I love this piece of work!!! I've hung it in a place of prominence in the living room so I can soak up its message...I can't take my eyes off of it...it a prayer made visible:
Let this home be filled with the blessing of joy and peace
See Alma's work here:
and read her blog here:
Thursday, September 03, 2009
slips through its body the mercury bowl
sloshing out and dripping speckles across itself
in spatters of light
into virgins and bears and hunters
would that I were one on that dewy necklace
whose only work was ever
Wednesday, September 02, 2009
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
coming down like heat-rain
mud between toes fitting like skin
brung as silken webs pulled forth
gently stringing down
generous and round-bellied as a practiced mother
full and ripe and gracious
skin stretched tight as a promise
i thank you
fingers, knuckles, palms and wrists
in the earth
i thank you