HER-story:

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

Thursday, June 21

summer solstice


decide to spend this summer in love...

write letters to the moon...

flirt with the sun...

and please remember to kiss under the summer rains...

summer solstice blessings


mixed media on paper 


Wednesday, June 20

move on


"Your past is over!

By bonding to your past, you not only ensure that you'll be immobilized today, but you prevent yourself from healing...

In a universe that's an intelligent system with a divine creative force supporting it, there simply can be no accidents.  As tough as it is to acknowledge, you had to go through what you went through in order to get to where you are today, and the evidence is that you did.  Every spiritual advance that you will make in your life will very likely be preceded by some kind of fall or seeming disaster.  Those dark times, accidents, illnesses, abuses, and broken dreams were ALL IN ORDER...

Practice living in the moment, and REFUSE to allow any thoughts based on your past to define you.  Stop and take notice of all that's in your immediate space - the people, creatures, vegetation, cloud formations, building designs, everything.  Stay in the present by meditating and getting closer to the ultimate now...God.

Your past history and all of your hurts are no longer here in your physical reality.  Don't allow them to be here in your mind, muddying your present moments.  Your life is like a play with several acts.  Some of the characters who enter have short roles to play, others, much larger.  Some are villains and others are good guys.  But all of them are NECESSARY, otherwise they wouldn't be in the play.  Embrace them all, and move on to the next act."
- Dr. Wayne Dyer


2013 limited edition mixed media on paper

Tuesday, June 19

tell the truth


"Do I move you?  Are you willing?

Do I groove you?  Is it thrilling?

Do I soothe you?  Tell the truth now,

Do I move you?  Are you loose now?

The answer better be - YES, yes...it pleases me.


Are you ready for this action?

Does it give you satisfaction?

Are you hip to what I'm saying?

If you are then let's start swaying.

The answer better be - YES, yes...it pleases me.


When I touch you, do you quiver?

From your head down to your liver?

If you like it let me know it...

Don't be psychic or you'll blow it...

The answer better be - YES, yes...that pleases me."


- Nina Simone

Monday, June 18

he did not dare


“To him she seemed so beautiful, so seductive, so different from ordinary people, that he could not understand why no one was as disturbed as he by the clicking of her heels on the paving stones, why no one else's heart was wild with the breeze stirred by the sighs of her veils, why everyone did not go mad with the movements of her braid, the flight of her hands, the gold of her laughter. He had not missed a single one of her gestures, not one of the indications of her character, but he did not dare approach her for fear of destroying the spell.” 

“Le parecía tan bella, tan seductora, tan distinta de la gente común, que no entendía por qué nadie se trastornaba como él con las castañuelas de sus tacones en los adoquines de la calle, ni se le desordenaba el corazón con el aire de los suspiros de sus volantes, ni se volvía loco de amor todo el mundo con los vientos de su trenza, el vuelo de sus manos, el oro de su risa. No había perdido un gesto suyo, ni un indicio de su carácter, pero no se atrevía a acercársele por el temor de malograr el encanto."

- Gabriel Garcia Marquez (1927-2014)

snapshot - an unintentional selfie of my shoulder...


Sunday, June 17

salty smiles

- mid-1970s - Rehoboth Beach, Delaware -

The beach holds memories of sand castles and salty smiles. It is where I need to begin telling my story, telling her story...with Father Sun and Mother Moon...

excerpt from my journals

Happy Birthday Dad, I love you beyond words!


Saturday, June 16

recuerdos


"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)

Friday, June 15

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...



Thursday, June 14

stay open


"I'm a fool for that shake in your thighs.

I'm a fool for that sound in your sighs.

I'm a fool for your belly.

I'm a fool for your love.

I want to make this plain.

Oh, I know your faded, 
but stay, don't close your eyes...

Caught in this pool held in your eyes.

Caught like a fool without a line.

We're in a natural spring,

With this gentle sting between us.

Stay, stay open..."

- RHYE

a favorite song and a selfie 




Wednesday, June 13

new moon


butterfly medicine on this new dark moon

grateful

grateful

grateful

•••

One or Two Things

  1
Don’t bother me.
I’ve just
been born.

  2
The butterfly’s loping flight
carries it through the country of the leaves
delicately, and well enough to get it
where it wants to go, wherever that is, stopping
here and there to fuzzle the damp throats
of flowers and the black mud; up
and down it swings, frenzied and aimless; and sometimes

for long delicious moments it is perfectly
lazy, riding motionless in the breeze on the soft stalk
of some ordinary flower.

  3
The god of dirt
came up to me many times and said
so many wise and delectable things, I lay
on the grass listening
to his dog voice,
crow voice,
frog voice; now,
he said, and now,

and never once mentioned forever,

  4
which has nevertheless always been,
like a sharp iron hoof,
at the center of my mind.

  5
One or two things are all you need
to travel over the blue pond, over the deep
roughage of the trees and through the stiff
flowers of lightning — some deep
memory of pleasure, some cutting
knowledge of pain.

  6
But to lift the hoof!
For that you need
an idea.

  7
For years and years I struggled
just to love my life. And then

the butterfly
rose, weightless, in the wind.
“Don’t love your life
too much,” it said,

and vanished
into the world.

- Mary Oliver 

Tuesday, June 12

quince mil encantos


"entre el cielo y el suelo hay algo,
con tendencia a quedarse calvo,
de tanto recordar,
y ese algo que soy yo mismo,
es un cuadro de bifrontismo,
que sólo da una faz,

la cara vista es un anuncio de signal,
la cara oculta es la resulta,
de mi idea genial de echarte,
me cuesta tanto olvidarte,
me cuesta tanto,

olvidar quince mil encantos es
mucha sensatez
y no sé si seré sensato
lo que sé es que me cuesta un rato
hacer las cosas sin querer

y aunque fui yo quien decidió
que ya no más
y no me cansé se jurarte
que no habrá segunda parte
me cuesta tanto olvidarte
me cuesta tanto..." - José M. Cano


2013 mixed media 



Monday, June 11

un sueño abierto


"Una esperanza un huerto un páramo

una migaja entre dos hambres

el amor es campo minado

un jubileo de la sangre

cáliz y musgo / cruz y sésamo

pobre bisagra entre voraces

el amor es un sueño abierto

un centro con pocas filiales

un todo al borde de la nada

fogata que será ceniza

el amor es una palabra

un pedacito de utopía

es todo eso y mucho menos

y mucho más / es una isla

una borrasca / un lago quieto

sintetizando yo diría

que el amor es una alcachofa

que va perdiendo sus enigmas

hasta que queda una zozobra

una esperanza un fantasmita."

- Mario Benedetti 



Sunday, June 10

tell me you'll miss me


Stars shining bright above you,

Night breezes seem to whisper "I love you"

Birds singing in the sycamore tree,
Dream a little dream of me.
Say "Night-ie night" and kiss me,

Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me.

While I'm alone and blue as can be,
Dream a little dream of me.
Stars fading, but I linger on, dear
Still craving your kiss
I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear
Just saying this
Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you
Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you
But in your dreams whatever they be
Dream a little dream of me
Stars fading, but I linger on, dear
Still craving your kiss
I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear
Just saying this
Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you
Sweet dreams that leave all worries far behind you
But in your dreams whatever they be
Dream a little dream of me.."

Songwriters: Fabian Andre, Gus Kahn, and Wilbur Schwandt




Saturday, June 9

disassembled by her


"He sweeps his arm across plates and glasses on a restaurant table so she might look up somewhere else in the city hearing this cause of noise. When he is without her. He, who has never felt alone in the miles of longitude between desert towns...He lies in his room surrounded by the pale maps. He is without her. His hunger wishes to burn down all social rules, all courtesy. Her life with others no longer interests him. He wants only her stalking beauty, her theatre of expressions. He wants the minute and secret reflection between them, the depth of field minimal, their foreignness intimate like two pages of a closed book.  He has been disassembled by her..."

- Michael Ondaatje

recent selfie 


Friday, June 8

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



Thursday, June 7

lasting truce


"Now is the time to know that all you do is sacred.

Now, why not consider a lasting truce with yourself and God?

Now is the time to understand that all your ideas of right and wrong were just a child's training wheels, to be laid aside when you could finally live with veracity and courage.

Hafiz is a divine envoy whom the Beloved has written a holy message upon.

My dear, please tell me, why do you still throw sticks at your heart and Him?

What is it in that sweet voice inside that incites you to fear?

Now is the time for the world to know that every thought and action is sacred.

This is the time for you to deeply compute the impossibility that there is anything but Grace.

Now is the season to know that everything we do...is sacred."

- my beloved HAFIZ

snapshot - one of my home altars 




Wednesday, June 6

bring your cup near me


"I know the way you can get when you have not had a drink of Love;  your face hardens, your sweet muscles cramp.

Children become concerned about a strange look that appears in your eyes which even begins to worry your own mirror and nose.

Cats sense your sadness and call in an important conference in a tall tree.  They decide which secret code to chant to help your mind and soul.

Even angels fear that brand of madness that arrays itself against the world and throws sharp stones and spears into the innocent and into one's self.

Oh I know that way you can get if you have not been drinking Love: 

 - You might rip apart every sentence your friends and teachers say, looking for hidden clauses. 

 - You might weigh every word on a scale like a dead fish. 

 - You might pull out a ruler to measure from every angle in your darkness the beautiful dimensions of a heart you once trusted.

I know the way you can get if you have not had a drink from Love's hands.

That is why all the Great Ones speak of the vital need to keep remembering God, so you will come to know and see Him as being so giving and wanting, just wanting to help.

That is why Hafiz says,

"Bring your cup near me, for a I am a Sweet Old Vagabond with an infinite leaking barrel of Light and Laughter and Truth that the Beloved has tied to my back.  Dear One, indeed, please bring your heart near me.  For all I care about is quenching your thirst for freedom!  All a sane man can ever care about is giving LOVE!"

- my beloved HAFIZ


mixed media on paper


Tuesday, June 5

riding the waves


"I love waves; I wish I had some in my hair. My daddy did, but I guess I didn't dive into that end of the gene pool. Virginia Woolf wrote my favorite book, The Waves, and I have a son who surfs them. I danced a thousand dances to Patti Smith's song "Wave" and I've waved a thousand good-byes. I've seen waves come and take my house, flood the same bedroom where they accompanied countless nights of lovemaking. I have ridden the waves of labor, of sorrow, and of bliss."

- Gabrielle Roth



Monday, June 4

bliss



"You must have a room, or a certain hour or so a day, where you don’t know what was in the newspapers that morning, you don’t know who your friends are, you don’t know what you owe anybody, you don’t know what anybody owes to you. This is a place where you can simply experience and bring forth what you are and what you might be. This is the place of creative incubation. At first you may find that nothing happens there. But if you have a sacred place and use it, something eventually will happen...

...We are having experiences all the time which may on occasion render some sense of this, a little intuition of where your bliss is. Grab it. No one can tell you what it is going to be. You have to learn to recognize your own depth...

...Poets are simply those who have made a profession and a lifestyle of being in touch with their bliss...

...If you do follow your bliss you put yourself on a kind of track that has been there all the while, waiting for you, and the life that you ought to be living is the one you are living. When you can see that, you begin to meet people who are in the field of your bliss, and they open the doors to you. I say, follow your bliss and don’t be afraid, and doors will open where you didn’t know they were going to be...

...The adventure is its own reward — but it’s necessarily dangerous, having both negative and positive possibilities, all of them beyond control. We are following our own way, not our daddy’s or our mother’s way… Life can dry up because you’re not off on your own adventure...

...There’s something inside you that knows when you’re in the center, that knows when you’re on the beam or off the beam. And if you get off the beam to earn money, you’ve lost your life. And if you stay in the center and don’t get any money, you still have your bliss."

- Joseph Campbell


Sunday, June 3

the way you make love




"There are so many words by Rumi that melt me straightaway into the heart pine floor. This particular line of words is so powerful and free of prediction that first it freezes me, forcing my eyes closed, and then instantly it infuses me with a kind of sweet slow burn that reminds me that I am so alive and so willing to take another chance on another new day. If this line had been spoken at Emmanuel Methodist Church when I was a girl in South Carolina I would not have been bored and scribbling bad poetry in the margins of the church program. I would have been mindful, engrossed, bowed, a devoted girl shepherd — imagining the future.” - Nikky Finney


--  “The way you make love is the way God will be with you." - RUMI --







Saturday, June 2

our job


“It’s not our job to toughen our children up to face a cruel and heartless world. It’s our job to raise children who will make the world a little less cruel and heartless.” - L.R. Knost

my baby girl playing with some of my pearls and wearing a linen dress that once belonged to my mother 


Friday, June 1

squeezing drops

- 2013 mixed media on canvas from a series exploring painting as poetry and meditation -
"Keep squeezing drops of the Sun
from your prayers and work and music
and from your companion's beautiful laughter.

Keep squeezing drops of the Sun -
from the sacred hands and glance of your Beloved
and, my dear,
from the most insignificant movements
of your own holy body."
- HAFIZ