words 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

as if you think

"...I know now, that I'm way down on your line, but the waiting feel is fine.  So don't treat me like a puppet on a string, cause I know I have to do my thing.  Don't talk to me as if you think I'm dumb...I don't wanna wait in vain for your love...It's me love that you're running from." 
- Bob Marley (1945-1981)

mixed media on paper

nothing and everything

"Turning your mind toward the dharma does not bring security or confirmation.  Turning your mind toward the dharma does not bring any ground to stand on.  In fact, when your mind turns toward the dharma, you fearlessly acknowledge impermanence and change and begin to get the knack of hopelessness.

In Tibetan there's an interesting word: ye tang che.  The ye part means "totally, completely," and the rest of it means "exhausted." Altogether, ye tang che means totally tired out.  We might say "totally fed up."  It describes an experience of complete hopelessness, of completely giving up hope.  This is an important point.  This is the beginning of the beginning.  Without giving up hope -- that there's somewhere better to be, that there's someone better to be -- we will never relax with where we are now or who we are.

To think that we can finally get it all together is unrealistic.  To seek for some lasting security is futile. To undo our very ancient and very stuck habitual patterns of mind requires that we begin to turn around some of our most basic assumptions.  Believing in a solid, separate self, continuing to seek pleasure and avoid pain, thinking that someone "out there" is to blame for our pain -- one has to get totally fed up with these ways of thinking.  One has to give up hope that this way of thinking will bring us satisfaction.  Suffering begins to dissolve when we can question the belief or the hope that there's anywhere to hide."

 - Pema Chodron


I bring it all to my meditation mat: the numbness, the emptiness, the anxiety, the loss, the boredom, the grief, the gratitude, the joy, the laughter, the exhaustion...without judgement.  I sit and breathe and simply honor what is going on at the moment.  I am more than feelings and emotions.  I am more than thoughts.  I am more and yet I am nothing and everything. 

from my journals 

snapshot: detail of a tree, inspiration for a series of paintings 

kick-start

"My hearts been picked up way too many times.

Wrong numbers fill my blood watch the spinning dials.

You can measure my pressure but I'll blow up in a second...

Don't put me on hold please...

Fly here and hold me.

He doesn't call me so put me through operator.

Maybe I'll leave him and fall in love with you operator...

So tell me should I leave him and fall in love with you...

The miles keep adding up voicemails of frustration.  Long-distance takes it's toll...

It's like I've got a broken trust and I need a kick-start...

Broken trust, broken trust..."

- LAPSLEY

a song I heard tonight and can't get out of my mind 

snapshot:  2017 mixed media on canvas 

sensual animal

"We have come to be danced

not the pretty dance

not the pretty pretty, pick me, pick me dance

but the claw our way back into the belly

of the sacred, sensual animal dance
the unhinged, unplugged, cat is out of its box dance
the holding the precious moment in the palms
of our hands and feet dance

We have come to be danced
not the jiffy booby, shake your booty for him dance
but the wring the sadness from our skin dance
the blow the chip off our shoulder dance
the slap the apology from our posture dance

We have come to be danced
not the monkey see, monkey do dance
one, two dance like you
one two three, dance like me dance
but the grave robber, tomb stalker
tearing scabs & scars open dance
the rub the rhythm raw against our souls dance

WE have come to be danced
not the nice invisible, self conscious shuffle
but the matted hair flying, voodoo mama
shaman shakin’ ancient bones dance
the strip us from our casings, return our wings
sharpen our claws & tongues dance
the shed dead cells and slip into
the luminous skin of love dance

We have come to be danced
not the hold our breath and wallow in the shallow end of the floor dance
but the meeting of the trinity: the body, breath & beat dance
the shout hallelujah from the top of our thighs dance
the mother may I?
yes you may take 10 giant leaps dance
the Olly Olly Oxen Free Free Free dance
the everyone can come to our heaven dance

We have come to be danced
where the kingdom’s collide
in the cathedral of flesh
to burn back into the light
to unravel, to play, to fly, to pray
to root in skin sanctuary
We have come to be danced
WE HAVE COME" 

- Jewel Mathieson

caught like a fool

"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

detail from mixed media on canvas,

2017

you whisper more

“I want to see you. 

Know your voice. 

Recognize you when you first come 'round the corner. 

Sense your scent when I come into a room you've just left. 

Know the lift of your heel, the glide of your foot. 

Become familiar with the way you purse your lips then let them part, just the slightest bit, when I lean in to your space and kiss you. 

I want to know the joy of how you whisper "more”... - RUMI

detail from mixed media on canvas, 2017

wishing you were here

"Those kisses you sent, I found them wandering around the house. 

They were acting a little lost, not knowing exactly where I was. 

I was busy upstairs. 

But now we are all having tea and talking about you, and wishing you were here. 

And they imparted all you intended. They did well. 

One more thing: I have seen you at your best and at your worst; still you are always welcome near me."

- my beloved HAFIZ 

detail from mixed media on canvas, 2017

abstinence and desire gratified

"Abstinence sows sand all over

The ruddy limbs and flaming hair,

But Desire Gratified

Plants fruits of life and beauty there."

- William Blake (1757-1827)

what do I most desire out of life?

what do I abstain from in life?

detail from mixed media on canvas, 2017

stolen kisses

"What large, dark hands are those at the window

Lifted, grasping the golden light

Which weaves its way through the creeper leaves

       To my heart's delight?

Ah, only the leaves! But in the west,

In the west I see a redness come

Over the evening's burning breast —

       — 'Tis the wound of love goes home!

The woodbine creeps abroad

Calling low to her lover:

The sun-lit flirt who all the day

Has poised above her lips in play

And stolen kisses, shallow and gay

Of pollen, now has gone away

— She woos the moth with her sweet, low word,

And when above her his broad wings hover

Then her bright breast she will uncover

And yield her honey-drop to her lover.

Into the yellow, evening glow

Saunters a man from the farm below,

Leans, and looks in at the low-built shed

Where hangs the swallow's marriage bed.

The bird lies warm against the wall.

She glances quick her startled eyes

Towards him, then she turns away

Her small head, making warm display

Of red upon the throat. His terrors sway

Her out of the nest's warm, busy ball,

Whose plaintive cry is heard as she flies

In one blue stoop from out the sties

Into the evening's empty hall.

Oh, water-hen, beside the rushes

Hide your quaint, unfading blushes,

Still your quick tail, and lie as dead,

Till the distance folds over his ominous tread.

The rabbit presses back her ears,

Turns back her liquid, anguished eyes

And crouches low: then with wild spring

Spurts from the terror of his oncoming

To be choked back, the wire ring

Her frantic effort throttling:

Piteous brown ball of quivering fears!

Ah soon in his large, hard hands she dies,

And swings all loose to the swing of his walk.

Yet calm and kindly are his eyes

And ready to open in brown surprise

Should I not answer to his talk

Or should he my tears surmise.

I hear his hand on the latch, and rise from my chair

Watching the door open: he flashes bare

His strong teeth in a smile, and flashes his eyes

In a smile like triumph upon me; then careless-wise

He flings the rabbit soft on the table board

And comes towards me: ah, the uplifted sword

Of his hand against my bosom, and oh, the broad

Blade of his hand that raises my face to applaud

His coming: he raises up my face to him

And caresses my mouth with his fingers, which still smell grim

Of the rabbit's fur! God, I am caught in a snare!

I know not what fine wire is round my throat,

I only know I let him finger there

My pulse of life, letting him nose like a stoat

Who sniffs with joy before he drinks the blood:

And down his mouth comes to my mouth, and down

His dark bright eyes descend like a fiery hood

Upon my mind: his mouth meets mine, and a flood

Of sweet fire sweeps across me, so I drown

Within him, die, and find death good."

- D. H. Lawrence 

detail from mixed media on canvas, 2017

destined for you with implacable sweetness

"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

enthralled

"Teach me to sin - 
In love's forbidden ways,
For you can make all passion pure;
The magic lure of your sweet eyes
Each shape of sin makes virtue praise.

Teach me to sin -
Enslave me to your wanton charms,
Crush me in your velvet arms
And make me, make me love you.
Make me fire your blood with new desire,
And make me kiss you - lip and limb,
Till sense reel and pulses swim.
Aye! even if you hate me,
Teach me to sin."

- Alfred Bryan (1871-1958)

esperando

love your soul

you must love your soul

love your soul

I do love your soul

my hair turns blue 

waiting for you 

detail from mixed media on wood, 2017

jardin de mi agonia

"Nadie comprendía el perfume

de la oscura magnolia de tu vientre.
Nadie sabía que martirizabas
un colibrí de amor entre los dientes.

Mil caballitos persas se dormían
en la plaza con luna de tu frente,
mientras que yo enlazaba cuatro noches
tu cintura, enemiga de la nieve.

Entre yeso y jazmines, tu mirada
era un pálido ramo de simientes.
Yo busqué, para darte, por mi pecho
las letras de marfil que dicen siempre,

siempre, siempre: jardin de mi agonia,
tu cuerpo fugitivo para siempre,
la sangre de tus venas en mi boca,
tu boca ya sin luz para mi muerte."

- Federico Garcia Lorca

"Nobody understood the perfume
of the dark magnolia of your belly.
Nobody knew how you martyred
the hummingbird of love between your teeth.

A thousand tiny Persian horses slept
in the plaza in the light of your forehead’s moon
while I for four nights laced myself
to your waist, the enemy of snow.

Between plaster and jasmine, your gaze
is a pale and seeding branch.
I searched through my chest to give to you
the ivory letters that say forever,

forever, forever: Garden of my agony,
your body fleeing from me forever,
the blood of your veins now in my mouth,
your mouth already lightless for my death."

- translation by Niina Pollari

2006 or 2007 carved wood block 

black leather and pleather on this full moon

"I'm awaiting a lover. I have to be rent and pulled apart and live according to the demons and the imagination in me. I'm restless. Things are calling me away. My hair is being pulled by the stars again."

- Anais Nin

an embroidered black leather bustier I wore once upon a time...now I wear black pleather pants...

flesh on our bones

"I see who you are

behind the skin

and the muscles

I see who you are, now

and when you get older later

I will see the same girl

the same soul

lioness, fire-heart

passionate lover

and afterwards

later this century

when you and I have become corpes

let's celebrate now all this flesh on our bones

let me push you up against me tightly

and enjoy every bit of you

I see who you are..."

- Bjork

recent selfie with my wild and wonderful daughter who is reminding me of my wildness and wonder, my essence 

waste lifetimes in the waiting

"We stand shivering at the door, terrified and panicked that we have lost the key. We waste lifetimes in the waiting because in the haze, the painted fog of our fear, we forget to check the handle and discover it has never been locked at all." 

- Tyler Knott Gregson

snapshots from different decades of my life...

halloween

"Halloween is an ancient druidic holiday, one the Celtic peoples have celebrated for millennia. It is the crack between the last golden rays of summer and the dark of winter; the delicately balanced tweak of the year before it is given over entirely to the dark; a time for the souls of the departed to squint, to peek and perhaps to travel through the gap. What could be more thrilling and worthy of celebration than that? It is a time to celebrate sweet bounty, as the harvest is brought in. It is a time of excitement and pleasure for children before the dark sets in. We should all celebrate that."

- Jenny Colgan

cuando, como y donde?

"Siempre que te pregunto,
Que cuando como y donde,
Tu siempre me respondes;
Quizas, quizas, quizas.

Y asi pasan los dias,
Y yo desesperando,
Y tu, tu contestando;
Quizas, quizas, quizas.

Estas perdiendo el tiempo,
Pensando, pensando,
Por lo que mas tu quieras,
Hasta cuando, hasta cuando?

Y asi pasan los dias,
Y yo desesperando,
Y tu, tu contestando;
Quizas, quizas, quizas."

- Osvaldo Farres

snapshot: Cleopatra marble carving by William Wetmore Story (1819-1895)

el sabor del poco a poco

"A fuego lento tu mirada -

A fuego lento tú o nada -

Vamos fraguando esta locura -

Con la fuerza de los vientos y calor de la ternura -

Sigue el camino del cortejo -

A fuego lento a fuego viejo -

Sigue avivando nuestra llama -

Con todo lo que te quiero y lo mucho que me amas -

A fuego lento me haces agua -

Contigo tengo el alma enamorada -

Me llenas, me vacías, me desarmas -

Ay ay ay amor cuando me amas -

A fuego lento revoltosas -

Caricias que parecen mariposas -

Se cuelan por debajo de la ropa - 

Y van dejando el sentimiento amor forjado a fuego lento -

A fuego lento mi cintura -

A fuego lento y con lisura -

Vamos tramando este alboroto -

Con la danza de los mares y el sabor del poco a poco -

Sigo el camino del cortejo -

A fuego lento a fuego añejo -

Sigo avivando en nuestra llama -

Tantos días como sueños, tantos sueños que no acaban.."

- Rosana Arbelo

te confieso

“Te confieso que no tengo un instante sin pensar en ti, que cuanto como y bebo tiene tu sabor, que la vida eres tú a toda hora y en todas partes. Que el gozo supremo de mi corazón sería morirme contigo. -¿Y ahora? - Ahora nada - Me basta con lo que sepas."

- Gabriel Garcia Marquez

wild woman

"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

remembering Seotember 27th:  one month ago seems like an eternity and still so raw...

my beloved daughter turns 18 months old today...