Thursday, July 21, 2011

a spark

One day our technology will catch up with our knowledge, and we will be able to back up every practical recommendation, now called mystical, with the precise life cycle of a neuropeptide. And we shall say, "This certain thought construction, often put as 'I know' or 'It is this way' causes a secretion leading to calcification in the brain and limbs. When this hardening takes place, the nerve endings are plugged up, so that one cannot feel." But the cure will be, sure it will be, to be as a child in a dome of kings and queens, walking across a Heart of such magnitude that we cannot know it, except when we come to a precipice, a crevasse, or a great river rushing gushing over, and awe grips us, awe overcomes us- and the Heart of this place beats for us, and our hearts are aligned to the greater pulse, the governing silence, the end all be all peace, which is love beyond, beyond, and beyond again.

Monday, June 6, 2011

Windy June

Yesterday Steve said we were going for a bike ride up the road and we'd see what the tornado did. Wow. There was a lot of this: Scott said, "The forest got... a... buzzcut." It did. Before seeing the crushed houses and splintered trees, I saw a little someone sitting small and still in a bare tree. Mr. Ruby Throat. I think he may have been a bit dazed, because he let me walk up to him before flying off. Maybe he lost his home?
Now that the warm weather is here things are growing. Remember how last year bunny dug a hole beneath the rose bush? It was a new bush and didn't have enough time to flower last year- but it is now! Am so pleased to be seeing this Persian Yellow. And smelling it! Chrysanthie says it smells like sunshine, and Sarah says it smells like honey. Heather's been smelling it too, and I smell coriander!
Also, I worked some more on Gracias Madre in the kitchen...
I like to look at her today especially.
Original illustration by Jon Marro for Gracias Madre Restaurant in San Fransisco

She so nice.

Peace be with you.... :)

Monday, May 9, 2011

May Mermaid Monday

a drawing...

Yesterday being Mothers Day I was inspired to find this picture...

This morning I went for a walk, and on my way home by the Millpond there was a black and white woodpecker and a robin above the woodpecker in a bush by the water. The robin flew away but the woodpecker stayed. I said to myself, "Woodpecker likes me." And then I thought- but then again, he has been banging his head against a tree all morning. Some conclusions are hard to make.

Once I hiked to the top of St Andrews Seat in Scotland, where the grass was green and the wind was cool and the sun was warm. Yellow flowers bloomed all around and I went to the edge of a cliff and straddled the craggly rock to look at the green valley. Everything was like peace and a bouquet of flowers to the heart. I heard bagpipes playing, wondering if I really did hear them? Searching far with my eyes there appeared in the valley the tiniest figure playing on the wind.

Monday, May 2, 2011

Cardinal and Friends

Here is Cardinal. This is a present for my dear nephew, 6 year-old Michael, who loves cardinals. He sent a note he wrote, "I miss you Ant Shanny. I like youyr art it is beautiful and pretty I love it."
Chestnut Hill nursery had a craft fair night so I made a little set-up there on Friday. After painting this Steve read up on bluebirds. Bluebird couples wave their wings to each other when they come home. Gosh that's cute. We had a pair in the sugar maple, but they're gone now. Apparently European sparrows (who live here too) chase away the native bluebird. I'm going to get the bluebirds some worms at the hardware store and we're putting up the house I'm decorating for them, and that might make it easier for the bluebirds to live here.
Here are my friends Cindy and Gay Marie: photographer and jewelry-maker, respectively.
Janet and Sarah came over yesterday with a tea party in hand.
Sarah said let's make smiles with orange slices...

Last week I canceled the cell phone. This afternoon my computer died! It will not turn on, nary accomplishing even the blue screen of death. Am on Steve's laptop at the moment, but not to fear, I get the hint. Peace in peace out! :)

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Ready aim wait

"There are thousands hacking away at the branches of evil to one who is at the root." -Thoreau

Thousands of archers poised and ready at the battle line. One longbow takes aim from the perimeter, a specialist. The lines of men shoot erratically to the sky, and arrows return. Patience aims at the heart of the beast, watching each move. Not shooting wildly, he pulls back in readiness, waiting.

Friday, April 22, 2011

Mornin' Birdees

This morning I went for a run, which is a walk on the hills. At first the sun was shining its early morning shine with some orange in the tops of the trees, and some yellow warm that makes a face feel loved. Over the brittle green bridge over the brook by the goats, and past the town dump and the graveyard, which despite their names are very nice places to pass by... Past the woodpile up on the hill where the waddley woodchuck lives. The woodchuck has a face like a beaver and a tail like a raccoon, except not as striped. And when I passed by the other day, he sat between two logs and watched me pass with his goofy teeth sticking out. I chuckled at him, tried to coax him out of that big log pile and even though I was friendly, he didn't come to say hi. But back to this morning's walk. A robin was first in the front yard. Robin with a burnt sienna belly. Robins dip their beaks into the soil and eat the worms. I read once that a robin can hear a worm wriggling underground, and that's how robin finds that worm. Good listening skills. A robin belly is like a roasted sweet potato slice- a warm orange surrounded by caramelized feathers. Sort of the way the sun looks in pictures from space. Sort of the way I wish I could roast a marshmallow, but it turns grey too quickly. Down the road I went this morning and after running a while and forgetting about all the good reasons there (clearly) are to turn around and go home, eventually I was too far from home to turn around. So on up the little hill and down the little hill and cross the brook again~ and the thought- I didn't even finish the thought, but I will finish it here- I said, "Hey, I wonder if my little sparrow buddies are flying." And I hear a "Yeep!" Much more confident than yesterday, when he was crying panic on the power line. A little sparrow crying, such a pathetic thing. I have heard a sparrow cry a most sad cry, and that was a tragedy for sure. But this little sparrow, yesterday, I will tell you what happened. Walking down the little hill and across the brook and up to the old white house, a cry hit my ears. Very nervous kind of noises. I look up, and then further up, to the top of the old house. And there where the power line meets the roof, was a sparrow- almost too fluffy to be a sparrow. Such a big fluffy body. "O do you remember?" I said to m'self. New baby sparrows have down on their bellies, but their wings look normal. And then finally I could understand his most nervous peeping and chirping that was not too pleasant to hear. I said, "You'll do great! You're meant to fly, it's ok, you'll do great. No doubt about it." And he continued on to tell me that he was all the way up here, and he did not (most definitely not) want to get from here to somewhere else with this flying thing- it might not work. We went on like that for a while- you'll do great, you're a flyer- but I'm nervous- and eventually he got a little more quiet, a little less piercing and a little more warm in his peeps. On I went a few more paces, and there amidst the magnolia tree buds were his brothers and sister- three squat sparrows with fluffy bodies, and one sleek mother bouncing here and there, who had certainly done a fine job there.
So on this outing today when I thought, "I wonder if my sparrow buddy...?" before I could think that I'd thought it he peeped, "Teep!" from the big white house, sitting on the gutter now. Having some air of pride about him. "Look at you!" Such a fluffy guy. He didn't say much, sitting next to his sister on the gutter, being generally well, and I was glad he said hello. I tilted my head back to see a black bird on the wire with a circle of dry grass in the mouth. Soon she flew into the gutter, right next to sparrow guy. Sparrow hopped away from the nest builder, hopped hopped fleetly like a little bunny to the crest of the roof. Just a sparrow, and a baby sparrow at that- when you're a sparrow you have to run away or hide from anything. I thought of "Not a single sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it." But a knowing like that- how could we fathom an awareness like that? Infinite depth, infinite breadth, and all the ways there could be to know the tiniest feather and the turn of stars across heaven's heaven.

After the big white house is the Stafford Street steep hill, where on the left side is a hill garden in which lives more sparrows, and they came out to say that they were building their house, and sparrows build houses that are pretty wild, you know, sticking out here and there the way the actors of a Midsummer Nights dream crown themselves with garden hats that are human spun; sparrows build a bit like that. One year in the hydrangea sparrow nest, I saw some of my hair, a ribbon, and dried flowers woven into the nest- a dainty taste they have. I nodded my head to sparrow, and as I did a female cardinal flew by and alighted on an apple tree, where perhaps she was building her nest too. Maybe it was already built! They have their babies on the early side, I think. Onward then as woodpecker goes a whack a whack a whack in the woods and cold clouds cover the sun. Woodpecker is hard to see but always there going a whack a peck about, as perseverance is. Not always visible but still a 'goin. Keep going, good friend, says the silent wind through woodpeckers. With my precocious bird I tap your shoulder to say keep going and have a little faith. Running and running and running along, I was almost finished, almost home, and two bright cardinals, feeling exhilarated themselves, flew by my side, flew by the brook through the bramble, friends of bright red inferno, or passion, hey Good Friday. Two cardinals and a good man from long time ago, may he be blessed.

Moon is cold gray rock. But she is great in her steadfastness. Do you know what? There once on earth were no flowers. In the Cretaceous Period, flowers appeared. And when the flowers appeared, then hummingbirds appeared. And bees. And that just goes to show that the whole world is magic.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Back from Africa

G'day, Blog Buddies!
We filmed the Sangoma film (whose name we're changing) in South Africa, and I'm back home in Connecticut! The filming, the experience of being in Africa- was unquantifiable, really, and what can I say? It was real! Here's the last film update piece- you can meet Antoinette and Oom Johannes and it's ok to fall in love:

Also here's the Mary and Kingfisher picture:

Today I moved furniture bits into the yurt (in the backyard woods). The top of the yurt is a glass bubble window that lets in the sun! I'm excited about making pictures by overhead sunlight. I brought some of my treasures back there. Last night my pal Janet and more very dear friends threw me a surprise 30th birthday party! I was so surprised that I didn't realize the party was for me at first! They roasted me then played bright pictures from childhood family and friends... and now am feeling completely sent off in this little ship. Off you go into that next ocean, kiddo! My family and friends in Beaufort, South Carolina and family in Florida likewise filled up the heart with joyful kindness and now I feel this life has been thoroughly good wished on account of being 30. So that's all quite pleasant!

Yes, so m'studio is in the yurt now. I will put some bird feeders out there. Here's a little ditty I wrote on birds near Addo and the elephants:

Birds are Beings born of Song,
clothed note by note in a thing called feathers,
which take the colors of the Heavens and blend them
together for the purpose of the Sky
having Music, and flowers with Eyes.

A pic of the last delight before flying out. Lions got good good love... G'night....
Peace upon ye head- peace to your sweet heart- from the end to the start.

Monday, January 17, 2011

An info splash: The San

Doing some research for the Sangoma Movie. Learning about the San today~ here is a choppy salad of internet article excerpts with corresponding links to the full article.From Bushmen: National Geographic:
A few days later, as the sun thaws the icy morning, I join a foraging expedition made up of the village women, who are going to gather mangetti nuts, which are about the size of hazelnuts and are a rich source of protein. The women wrap themselves in their hartebeest-skin cloaks, embroidered with bright bead circles, sling their babies on their backs, and set off through the bush at a deceptively fast loping stride. Some wear rough sandals made of car tires, but most are barefoot. Many have intricate tattoos on their faces: blue notches radiating out from each eye. They wade through the waving seas of grass, which is soft and blond in the low morning light. Soon they are rummaging in the foliage and poking in the earth with their digging sticks. As N≠aisa fills up her burlap side bag, she explains the uses for the various flora and fauna she is collecting. The root of one tree is good for curing you if you are coughing up blood. Another cures fever or flu. "And this," she says, tugging up another weed, "is called the lucky plant. You burn it and put the ash on your face, and then every man will love you."

As I leave Schmidtsdrift, Mahongo comes over to say good-bye. "Pity us poor Bushmen," he entreats me. "Pity us who have so many problems facing us in this world down here. We Bushmen, we were the first people here, so how come we are the last in line to get anything? When people see we are a gentle people, they just walk on us. We have to find the strength to make a place for ourselves in this world. Otherwise there will soon be no more of us. We will all be gone. And so will our memories. Only our paintings will remain behind to remind you of us."

(National Geographic):By the end of the 18th century, only 150 years after the arrival of the Dutch at the Cape of Good Hope, thousands of Bushmen (San) had been shot and killed, and many more were forced to work for their colonial captors. The new British government vowed to stop the fighting. They hoped to “civilize” the Bushmen by encouraging them to adopt a more agricultural lifestyle but were unsuccessful. By the 1870s the last Bushmen of the Cape were hunted to extinction. Other Bushman groups were able to survive the European encroachment despite continued threats. The last license to hunt Bushmen was reportedly issued in Namibia by the South African government in 1936.

Wikipedia on Bushmen
: One broad study of African genetic diversity completed in 2009 found the San people were among the five populations with the highest measured genetic diversity among the 121 distinct African populations sampled.

The San in the Kalahari have no concept of land ownership nor a central governing figure, so it is difficult for them to assert their rights...

The second song playing is "Eh Hee" by Dave Matthews. It was written as an evocation of the music and culture of the San people of southern Africa. Matthews recalls hearing the music of the Khoisan and, upon asking his guide what the words to their songs were, being told that "there are no words to these songs, because these songs, we've been singing since before people had words". He goes on to describe the song as his "homage to meeting... the most advanced people on the planet". (Wikipedia)

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Wednesday, January 12, 2011


With all that we have,
we ought to-

or we could, anyway,

be good to each other.

Really Good!