Happy Solstice

The Summer Day

Who made the world?

Who made the swan, and the black bear?

Who made the grasshopper?

This grasshopper, I mean-

the one who has flung herself out of the grass,

the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,

who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-

who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.

Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.

Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.

I don't know exactly what a prayer is.

I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down

into the grass, how to kneel in the grass,

how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,

which is what I have been doing all day.

Tell me, what else should I have done?

Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do

With your one wild and precious life?

Mary Oliver

Surface in progress above!  I think I need to join gardener's anonymous.  No time for anything but the great outdoors which is wholly appropriate in this northern clime!  Been working on a Japanese (style) garden out front and scrubbing the very dirty cedar siding with citra-solv.  Pictures at some point I'm sure.

But encouraging you to embrace the deliciousness of summer today and onward.  Eat strawberries, light an evening candle, eat your dinner outside.

And here is another sign of summer trotting around the woods, small spotted fawns, filled with curiousity about life.

Happy solstice!

Authentic Voice

I have been fortunate enough to have lots of delicious time for just lolly gagging around the house, reading, eating, contemplating. Along with a wonderful constitutional homeopathic remedy and some amazing food prepared by Everyoneisvegan this quiet time has been exactly what I needed.

Last night enough space opened up around me that I started thinking about my art again. Three encounters got me thinking about "authentic voice", something which is both important and elusive to me in my art, at least from my vantage point. A lot of the time I feel like I miss the mark due to frustration and impatience. I aim to orient myself toward this north star of authentic voice in the coming new year. I will be looking for a felt sense of something emerging as I create, something that comes through me, but isn't this little me, something connected to a greater presence. I will know it when I meet it. Sound weird and crazy? That's okay, as long as it doesn't sound like one of those mind soaked personal artistic statements.

The first encounter (does this sound like an artist's version of "A Christmas Carol" ?(ew, cheesy, chewy unintended pun left in for your guffaws and tomato throwing pleasure) was with some words from blogger friend Leslie Avon Miller over at Textures, Shapes & Colors. I find her art fresh and original and her explorations filled with passion and light hearted energy . She covers so many artistic miles in her exploration of new (to me) artistic geography. Sometimes I wonder how she has time for it all. Passion will do that for a person, I think. But what really intrigues me is how freely she explores the artistic scales of her own voice.

My second inspiration and call to the authentic self was some writing by Nathan over at Dangerous Harvest; words carved with a sharp scalpel out of blood and bone, boiling with unanesthetized authentic voice. Deep uncauterized trenches of experience laid open for examination; truly an authentic, dangerous harvest, one that etched itself deeply into the crevices of my skin. I was reminded how much I learn when someone is courageous enough to speak their truth.

And as I rambled over the landscape of screen and printed page in my pyjamas I turned to the pages of "Branches of Light", Banyen Books' catalogue and settled on descriptions of some Mary Oliver books of poems, new and old. Again, what jumped out was the deeply authentic voice that carries her across the hills and meadows of her experience, her unique vistas unfurled with such delicious quirkiness. This is truly authentic voice.

So 2011 will find me diving, digging, trekking, climbing, waiting, watching, sniffing for signs of authentic voice. Road maps, secret decoders, notes in bottles, hidden clues all gratefully accepted on my search. Watch for me. I will be wearing a Sherlock Holmes hat and carrying a large magnifying glass. The glass will be filled to the brim with magic elixir and I promise to share a sip if I meet you on the road.

Your Wild & Precious Life

Here's a partial shot of a mixed media piece I posted a while back. I am adding some text to it but it's not finished yet. I thought it was, but then you know how it goes. What at first seems finished sometimes tells a different story on second or third glance. Life is like that, art is like that. It's a process, an ongoing one, always open to fine tuning. I was working on something else. Ideas were flying in every direction. A few of them hit this canvas. I'll post it again when the ideas have dried.

I was working in a looser way today, without the editor-me popping in every few minutes to say how she likes it. She is so annoying. Yet I am used to her bossy little visits (the devil you know) but I must say it was nice that she'd taken today off. Perhaps she will go awol. It was a pleasant morning. I was just doing what I wanted with no thought past that. Time passed, ideas flowed in and out. There was an intuitive sense of playing with stuff to see what worked, but no one suggesting I'd better be careful or I'd ruin the canvas. No soup nazi minding the alphabet paint soup.

There is another piece that's been hiding in the closet that needed something and today it became apparent. Ah for patience and a deep closet. I have succumbed to the idea of text, an idea I love but haven't used that much. It's all over me now like a half read newspaper. But the line I will use is "What will you do with this one wild and precious life?" It's a line from a Mary Oliver poem.

I found it in the strangest place and it burned a place in my brain like some printing plate. We were looking at house and kept bumping into Buddhist paraphernalia, Buddha statues, pictures of Tibetan teachers, a meditation cushion here, some dharma books there. And plunk over an art table was this lovely question: "What will you do with your one wild and precious life?" Sadly the house did not work out but I got to keep this lovely question to ponder, to add to my art and to share with you.

Gradually I am figuring out what to do with my one wild and precious life: live within touching distance of the natural world, make art, make friends, study the Dharma. It's taken a while and a few good swift kicks in the butt by life. But since I still have the boot mark, its never too far from my mind. And how about you, what's up with your one wild and precious life ?