HER-story:

With words and images, I am telling my story. Through art, through sculpture, I am remembering HERstory...
CASIMIRA

Thursday, February 14

my littlest valentine


celebrating 33 blessed months of wildness and wonder...

my fiercely feminine warrior

my little goddess

you have ignited my courage, my strength and my independence

my wild child 

you are a dream come true

you are a miracle

you are your brother's answered prayers 

you are "La Otra" as your paternal grandfather predicted several years ago

weaning you after 33 months feels right and heartbreaking all at once...


excerpts from my journal and breastfeeding selfie 




Wednesday, February 13

sólo por orgullo ese querer


"Hey! 
no vayas presumiendo por ahí 
diciendo que no puedo estar sin ti 
tú qué sabes de mi. 

ya sé que a ti te gusta presumir 
decir a los amigos que sin ti 
ya no puedo vivir. 

no creas que te haces un favor 
cuando hablas a la gente de mi amor 
y te burlas de mi. 

que hay veces que es mejor querer así 
que ser querido y no poder sentir 
lo que siento por ti. 

ya ves 
tú nunca me has querido ya lo ves 
que nunca he sido tuyo ya lo sé 
fue sólo por orgullo ese querer. 

ya ves 
de que te vale ahora presumir 
ahora que no estoy ya junto a ti 
que les dirás de mi ? 

recuerdo que ganabas siempre tú 
que hacías de ese triunfo una virtud 
yo era sombra y tú luz. 

no sé si tú también recordarás 
que siempre que intentaba hacer la paz 
yo era un río en tu mar. 

ahora que ya todo terminó 
que como siempre soy el perdedor 
cuando pienses en mi. 

no creas que te guardo algún rencor 
es siempre más feliz quien más amó 
y ese siempre fui yo..."

 - Julio Iglesias


Tuesday, February 12

rage


Wisdom found me this morning during sunrise meditation and yoga:

"Under the tutelage of Wild Woman we reclaim the ancient, the intuitive, and the passionate. When our lives reflect hers, we act cohesively. We carry through, or learn to if we don't already know how. We take the steps to make our ideas manifest in the world. We regain focus when we lose it, attend to personal rhythms, draw closer to friends and mates who are in accord with wildish and integral rhythms. We choose relationships that nurture our creative and instinctive lives. We reach our to nurture others. And we are willing to teach receptive mates about wildish rhythms if need be.

But there is another aspect to mastery, and that is dealing with what can only be called women's rage. The release of that rage is required. Once women remember the origins of their rage, they feel they may never stop grinding their teeth. Ironically, we also feel very anxious to disperse our rage, for it feels distressing and noxious. We wish to hurry up and do away with it.

But repressing it will not work. It is like trying to put fire into a burlap bag. Neither is it good to scald ourselves or someone else with it. So there we are holding a powerful emotion that we feel came upon us unbidden. It is a little like toxic waste; there it is, no one wants it, but there are few disposal areas for it. One has to travel far in order to find a burial ground...

...All emotion, even rage, carries knowledge, insight, what some call enlightenment. Our rage can, for a time, become teacher...a thing not to be rid of so fast, but rather something to climb the mountain for, something to personify via various images in order to learn from, deal with internally, then shape into something useful in the world as a result, or else let it go back down to dust. In a cohesive life, rage is not a stand-alone item. It is a substance waiting for our transformative efforts. The cycle of rage is like any other cycle; it rises, falls, dies and is released as new energy. Attention to the matter of rage begins the process of transformation.

Allowing oneself to be taught by one's rage, thereby transforming it, disperses it. One's energy returns to use in other areas, especially the area of creativity. Although some people claim they can create out of their chronic rage, the problem is that rage confines access to the collective unconscious - that infinite reservoir of imaginal images and thoughts - so that a person creating out of rage tends to create the same thing over and over again, with nothing new coming through. Untransformed rage can become a constant mantra about how oppressed, hurt and tortured we were...

...Rage corrodes our trust that anything good can occur. Something has happened to hope. And behind the loss of hope is usually anger; behind anger, pain; behind pain, usually torture of one sort or another, sometimes recent, but more often from long ago.

In physical post-trauma work, we know that the sooner injury is dealt with, the less its effect spread or worsen. Also the more quickly a trauma is contained and dealt with, the faster the recovery time. This is true for psychological trauma as well. What condition would we be in if we'd broken a leg as a child, and thirty years later it still had not been properly set?

...There is a life beyond thoughtless rage...it takes a conscious practice to contain and heal such. But we can do it. It truly takes only climbing through one step at a time.

So rather than trying to "behave" and not feel our rage or rather than using it to burn down every living thing in a hundred-mile radius, it is better to first ask rage to take a seat with us, have some tea, talk a while so we can find out what summoned this visitor. At first rage...it doesn't want to talk, it doesn't want to eat, just wants to sit there and stare, or rail, or be left alone. It is this critical point that we call the healer, our wisest self, our best resources for seeing beyond ego irritation and aggravation. The healer is always the "far-seer." She is the one who can tell us what good can come from exploring this emotive surge."
- Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Ph.D



Monday, February 11

manic monday




"six o'clock already,
I was just in the middle of a dream,


I was kissing Valentino,

by a crystal blue Italian stream...

it's just another manic Monday,
I wish it was Sunday,
'cause that's my fun day,
my I don't have to run day,
it's just another manic Monday...

all of the nights,
why did my lover have to pick last night,
to get down...
he tells me in his bedroom voice:
come on honey, let's go make some noise...

time it goes so fast,
when you're having fun...
it's just another manic Monday..." - The Bangles

I am learning to love my early Monday mornings - they hold infinite potential for the week ahead...







Sunday, February 10

sin robarte un beso


"Son muchos años que pasaron sin decir que y en verdad te quiero pero encuentro formas de engañar mi corazón.

Son muchos años que pasaron sin robarte un beso solo quiero un beso, y por esa boca no me importa ser ladrón.

No puede ser que no he encontrado todavía las palabras y en esa noche no dije nada.

No puede ser que en un segundo me perdí en tu mirada aunque por dentro yo te gritaba.

Déjame robarte un beso que me llegue hasta el alma, como un vallenato de esos viejos que nos gustaban.

Se que sientes mariposas, yo también sentí sus alas.

Déjame robarte un beso que te enamore y tú no te vayas...

Déjame robarte el corazón.

Déjame escribirte una canción.

Déjame que con un beso nos perdamos los dos.


Déjame robarte el corazón.

Déjame subirle a esta canción.

Para que bailemos juntos como nadie bailó.


Déjame robarte un beso que me llegue hasta el alma.

Como un vallenato de esos viejos que nos gustaban.


Se que sientes mariposas, yo también sentí sus alas.

Déjame robarte un beso que te enamore y tú no te vayas.


Yo sé que a ti te gusta que yo te cante así.

Que tú te pones seria pero te hago reír.

Que se que tu me quieres... Por qué tú eres así.

Y cuando estamos juntos ya no se que decir..."

Carlos Vives and Sebastian Yatra

Saturday, February 9

si miro si toco


"Quiero que sepas
una cosa.

Tú sabes cómo es esto:
si miro
la luna de cristal, la rama roja
del lento otoño en mi ventana,
si toco
junto al fuego
la impalpable ceniza
o el arrugado cuerpo de la leña,
todo me lleva a ti,
como si todo lo que existe,
aromas, luz, metales,
fueran pequeños barcos que navegan
hacia las islas tuyas que me aguardan.

Ahora bien,
si poco a poco dejas de quererme
dejaré de quererte poco a poco.

Si de pronto
me olvidas
no me busques,
que ya te habré olvidado.

Si consideras largo y loco
el viento de banderas
que pasa por mi vida
y te decides
a dejarme a la orilla
del corazón en que tengo raíces,
piensa
que en ese día,
a esa hora
levantaré los brazos
y saldrán mis raíces
a buscar otra tierra.

Pero
si cada día,
cada hora
sientes que a mí estás destinada
con dulzura implacable.
Si cada día sube
una flor a tus labios a buscarme,
ay amor mío, ay mía,
en mí todo ese fuego se repite,
en mí nada se apaga ni se olvida,
mi amor se nutre de tu amor, amada,
y mientras vivas estará en tus brazos
sin salir de los míos."

- Pablo Neruda

"I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is: 
if I look 
at the crystal moon, at the red branch 
of the slow autumn at my window, 
if I touch 
near the fire 
the impalpable ash 
or the wrinkled body of the log, 
everything carries me to you, 
as if everything that exists, 
aromas, light, metals, 
were little boats 
that sail 
toward those isles of yours that wait for me. 

Well, now, 
if little by little you stop loving me 
I shall stop loving you little by little. 

If suddenly 
you forget me 
do not look for me, 
for I shall already have forgotten you. 

If you think it long and mad, 
the wind of banners 
that passes through my life, 
and you decide 
to leave me at the shore 
of the heart where I have roots, 
remember 
that on that day, 
at that hour, 
I shall lift my arms 
and my roots will set off 
to seek another land. 

But 
if each day, 
each hour, 
you feel that you are destined for me 
with implacable sweetness, 
if each day a flower 
climbs up to your lips to seek me, 
ah my love, ah my own, 
in me all that fire is repeated, 
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten, 
my love feeds on your love, beloved, 
and as long as you live it will be in your arms 
without leaving mine."

- Pablo Neruda
detail from mixed media on canvas, 2017

Friday, February 8

reputations


"When the Queen of Sheba came to Solomon,
she left behind her kingdom and her wealth,
the same way lovers leave their reputations."

- RUMI

mixed media on paper from a series


Thursday, February 7

lovers and tribes


"We die containing a richness of lovers and tribes, tastes we have swallowed, bodies we have plunged into and swum up as if rivers of wisdom, characters we have climbed into as if trees, fears we have hidden in as if caves. 

I wish for all this to be marked on by body when I am dead. I believe in such cartography - to be marked by nature, not just to label ourselves on a map like the names of rich men and women on buildings. We are communal histories, communal books. We are not owned or monogamous in our taste or experience."

- Michael Ondaatje 

detail from mixed media on canvas


Wednesday, February 6

word made flesh

"Children show scars like medals.
Lovers use them as secrets to reveal. 
A scar is what happens when the word is made flesh."
- Leonard Cohen

limited edition prints from original mixed medias on paper




Tuesday, February 5

lunar new year blessings


what does this new dark moon whisper...

may we remain still enough and allow ourselves to feel and heal...

mixed media on paper from my journals 


Monday, February 4

las aguas de mis pensamientos


"Hay almas que tienen
azules luceros,
mañanas marchitas
entre hojas del tiempo,
y castos rincones
que guardan un viejo
rumor de nostalgias
y sueños.
Otras almas tienen
dolientes espectros
de pasiones. Frutas
con gusanos. Ecos
de una voz quemada
que viene de lejos
como una corriente
de sombra. Recuerdos
vacíos de llanto
y migajas de besos.
Mi alma está madura
hace mucho tiempo,
y se desmorona
turbia de misterio.
Piedras juveniles
roídas de ensueño
caen sobre las aguas
de mis pensamientos.
Cada piedra dice:
“¡Dios está muy lejos!”
Federico García Lorca (1898-1936)

Sunday, February 3

half agony half hope


“You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever. 

I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it..."

- Jane Austen (1775 - 1817)



Saturday, February 2

deeply


"The personal life deeply lived always expands into truths beyond itself." 
- Anais Nin 

mixed media on paper 


Friday, February 1

eyes the color of a storm


so brave - so strong, the child is born
with eyes the color of a storm

earth mother bestows him volcanic fire
making him a man – a king admired

his queen - his one desire
his daughter - his best attire

for a king and the women in his life

mixed media collage on paper, except from my 2007 journals 

Thursday, January 31

in a dream


"...I don't know how to tell you what I feel. I live in perpetual expectancy. You come and the time slips away in a dream. It is only when you go that I realize completely your presence. And then it is too late. You numb me...I don't know what to expect of you, but it is something in the way of a miracle. I am going to demand everything of you - even the impossible, because you encourage it. You are really strong. I even like your deceit, your treachery. It seems aristocratic to me." 

- Henry Miller 

Wednesday, January 30

no one else like me


"...Intention I feel inventive,


Gonna make you, make you, make you notice -


Got motion restrained emotion...


No reason just seems so pleasing,


Gonna make you, make you, make you notice -



Gonna use my arms,



Gonna use my legs,



Gonna use my style,



Gonna use my sidestep,

Gonna use my fingers,

Gonna use my, my, my imagination -

'Cause I gonna make you see,


There's nobody else here,


No one like me,


I'm special so special,

I gotta have some of your attention give it to me -

Got rhythm I can't miss a beat...



Got something I'm winking at you,



Gonna make you, make you, make you notice...Give it to me..."

- The Pretenders

in an 80s mood




Tuesday, January 29

some kind of friend


"I never meant to cause you any sorrow

I never meant to cause you any pain

I only wanted to one time

to see you laughing

I only wanted to see you

Laughing in the purple rain

Purple rain, purple rain
Purple rain, purple rain
Purple rain, purple rain

I only wanted to see you

Bathing in the purple rain


I never wanted to be your weekend lover

I only wanted to be some kind of friend

Baby, I could never steal you from another

It's such a shame our friendship had to end

Purple rain, purple rain
Purple rain, purple rain
Purple rain, purple rain

I only wanted to see you

Underneath the purple rain


Honey, I know, I know

I know times are changing

It's time we all reach out

For something new, that means you too


You say you want a leader

But you can't seem to make up your mind

I think you better close it

And let me guide you to the purple rain


Purple rain, purple rain
Purple rain, purple rain...

Purple rain, purple rain
I only want to see you
Only want to see you
In the purple rain..."

- Prince (1958 - 2016)

mixed media on paper, 2013

Monday, January 28

only you



"Looking from a window above, it's like a story of love -

Can you hear me?

Came back only yesterday 

I'm moving further away,

Want you near me
All I needed was the love you gave -
All I needed for another day 
And all I ever knew 
Only you 
Sometimes when I think of [your] name 
When it's only a game 
And I need you 
Listen to the words that you say 
It's getting harder to stay 
When I see you
All I needed was the love you gave 
All I needed for another day 
And all I ever knew 
Only you 
This is going to take a long time 
And I wonder what's mine 
Can't take no more 
Wonder if you'll understand 
It's just the touch of your hand 
Behind a closed door 
All I needed was the love you gave 
All I needed for another day 
And all I ever knew 
Only you..."

- Vince Clarke

selfie 


Sunday, January 27

melt with you


"moving forward using all my breath -
making love to you was never second best -
I saw the world thrashing all around your face -
never really knowing it was always mesh and lace -
I'll stop the world and melt with you -
you've seen the difference and -
it's getting better all the time -
there's nothing you and I won't do -
I'll stop the world and melt with you -
dream of better lives the kind which never hate -
dropped in the state of imaginary grace -
I made a pilgrimage to save this human race -
never comprehending a race that long gone by -
I'll stop the world and melt with you -
you've seen the difference and it's getting better all the time -
there's nothing you and I won't do -
I'll stop the world and melt with you -
the future's open wide..." - Modern English


Saturday, January 26

staring at her


"A sky full of stars and he was staring at her."

- ATTICUS 

detail from mixed media on paper 




Friday, January 25

in my mouth


"still a little bit of your taste in my mouth
still a little bit of you laced with my doubt... 
still a little bit of your ghost - your witness  
still a little bit of your face I haven't kissed...  
still a little bit of your song in my ear, 
still a little bit of your words I long to hear..."
- Damien Rice


excerpt from my journals, mixed media on canvas 

Thursday, January 24

and then all


"it's a lip thing with you.

the first time we met i could not

take my eyes off them.

you probably thought you had something 

in your teeth with the way i was staring.

i know their curvature like the reminiscent

smell of my mother.

give me a photograph of every mouth in the

world and i will pick yours out without question.

i do not have a religion but if i did it

would be them...

...they are what roses and mountains and oceans

could only hope to be.

with you it's a lip thing.

and then it became a heart thing.

and then soul.

and then all."

- Christopher Poindexter


Wednesday, January 23

balance


"He returned to her and his lips awakened every atom in her body. His love exhausted her stars, she could not help it! She stumbled and lost her balance, wrapped herself in his moonlight and forever she seasoned his love." 
- R.M.Drake


Tuesday, January 22

my love


"...and what I am to you is not real,
what I am to you, you do not need,
what I am to you is not what you mean to me,
you give me miles and miles of mountains,
and I'll ask for the sea.

don't throw yourself like that,
in front of me.
I kissed your mouth, your back,
is that all you need?
don't drag my love around,
volcanoes melt me down.

...what I give to you is just what I'm going through,
there is nothing new, no, no just another phase of finding,
what I really need is what makes me bleed...

I kissed your mouth,
you do not need me."

- Damien Rice


Monday, January 21

curious


"...you never were the one...
and then I lay here open,
on the floor,
on the ground,
on the stairs,
on the way,
...and it's dangerous to go and listen to what they say...
the way you hold yourself straight,
you were never innocent,
and I just lay here frozen,
curious..."

- Zola Jesus

it is certainly dangerous to listen to what they say...



Sunday, January 20

La Loba La Que Sabe


"...now before our sights, into our baskets of water held out to the heavens... 
the wolf moon, named after wolves howling to summon one another...
SUMMONS FROM LA LOBA I CALL HER 'LA QUE SABE, SHE WHO KNOWS...'
For those with ears to hear, eyes to see...
The howl is the call to 
Rest and Create. Both. 
Not one or the other. Both now. 
The howl is the call to Reconvene Gentleness and Fierceness: Both. Not one or the other. Both now. 
The howl is the call to 
Keep no collections of grievances 
petty and large. 
Throw that dung list away. 
No wolf drags a long bag of yesterdays 
behind them today.
The howl is the call to 
instead, build your list of effective solutions 
within your reach, and if not 
practice your trapeese flying. 
Wolves are the masters of the flying leap 
that lands square. We can do this. 
The howl is the call to 
choose one goal. 
The most life-giving, the most life sparing. 
Not one or the other, both. Both. 
Like a true wolf would do.
The howl is the call to 
Focus. One thing to shelter, build in beauty, 
end, begin, one thing at a time. 
The howl is the call to Collect your tendernesses and strengths. Both. Not one or the other. Both. Like a true wolf.
The howl is the call to 
not bathe nor clothe thyself in fears, 
for they weaken the child spirit, 
Who is your Creative Force. 
Wolves stand before and protect their pups, 
not place them in the teeth of predators.
The howl is the call to
Love everything one can, truly so, 
with dedication, not passing over, 
not saying yah, yah, 
but seeing the bee as equal to the butterfly, 
the human as equal to the precious waters 
and the air, the creatures equal to the mountains. And visa versa. 
La Loba, La que sabe,
whom I name She Who Knows, 
says so...
in her long, long howl 
'at the first Full Moon
of this New Year. 
All good come...
All good come now
both and all.
All. Good. Now. Come....
May it be so for thee
May it be so for me
May it be so for us all,
Each in her and his own way,
as each sees fit."
- words of wisdom by beloved Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes
La Mama Loba and her wild wolf cub remind you to go out and HOWL at tonight's full wolf moon