Thought's Dominion

Wonder

2007-06-18T19:21:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, when I look into the face of a person I can see very, very deeply. This happens most often with children and elders, for somehow they have either not acquired so many layers of sheen to their "masks" or they have just lost layers due to attrition, to the flaking of the outer coil over time.

I wonder at the feelings that emerge in those moments, those moments of recognition, or some twisted sense of empathy. I sense the color and the flavors of the life of that person. I step beyond myself, beyond the lens, out past waving fields of composition, of perception and I just sit there with it for as long as I can, soaking in to my very core, what I am absorbing through my senses.

I wonder about the fears and the sadness. I wonder if this child will ever know that only when you can look yourself square in the eye and deeply in the heart and believe, really, truly, clap-your-hands believe that you are as amazing and wonderful as you are...only THEN will you be able to form healthy relationships with others. If that work is not done, then every connection will serve as a means to reflect to you that which you have not found in yourself.

I wonder.

I wonder what our children are learning about life now, about the world. And what are they taking to heart. I suppose one of my greatest disappointments in this lifetime has been that my children are so very different from me. They are card-carrying members of the Abercrombie Generation, one which I see as toxic with a serious case of AFFLUENZA. Spend, spend, fill the hole inside you with whatever feels best, just do it and your gonna look so fabulous doing it are you not??????

I spent the morning reading the entire trip blog of someone I very much admire.

http://www.rickgunnphotography.com/project.php#15

Looking into the eyes of the people he met on his epic journey only brought it to home more for me. We are going to hell in a very pretty, good-smelling handbasket. There are people living without limbs, without family, without food...and my kids are worried about the pedicure they got and how it sucked.

I am sad and angry today about these things. It seems to me that we should, as people, as humans, welcome one another and celebrate who we are, sameness and differences manifest as bright colors on an infinite spectrum. It seems to me that there is much more to worry about than what your livingroom smells like.

I wonder what it will take to motivate "us" to live more deeply.

I wonder.

American Pie

2007-06-18T19:19:00.000-07:00

I try not to be judgemental. Or, more accurately, I try not to be critical. I think, as humans we judge all the time. It is how we move around in the world safely. I listen to myself when I hear some inside voice telling me something is "bad" or "good", and I try to understand where, from deep inside, that fear came.

I pride myself on my choice to let people be who they are, and to let them learn on their own path and find their own Gods, and follow their own dream.

But, for the life of me, I get boggled when I see something like this.

What sort of American Dream is it that speaks to spending hard earned money on a piece of paper, so that you can chase the possibility of having lots of MONEY MONEY MONEY...only to, when finding out one did not, throw that paper on the ground. The ground that many years ago people sailed to for freedom of religion and for a better life. There are men, women and children EVERYWHERE without food to eat, without clean water to drink or with which to bathe, and some people have this High Livin' Fantasy about cars and fancy clothes to which they prostitute the very core of existence, of subsistance.

It is the dream...the $5.00 dream, or the $1.00 dream or the Quick Pick dream.

Some seek the riches and don't even know they are standing on them now, they are drinking it now, they are breathing it NOW.

I do not ascribe to this American Dream. It makes me feel ashamed to be called American.

2007-06-18T19:17:00.001-07:00

I was sitting in the sun, insanely orgasmic 75% cocoa chocolate melting in my mouth. The cats were stalking bugs, free at last to come out to play. Next door the McFireman family lives with their mountain of a dog, Molly. Two kids...about 3 and 1.5. Girls. Mom smokes, and my window is just in the right vortex, as I am overcome several times a day by clouds of nicotine running silenty into my room. And, then, the voices. Mom is a monotone, shrill sort of a bray. 3 is whiny. 1.5 is learning to talk. They are wandering around the yard:

Mom: "You WANNA USE CHALK???!"

1.5: "no..."

Mom: "YOU WANNA DRAW??? ON THE GROUND????"

1.5:"'no..."

Mom: "YOU WANNA DRAW WITH CHALK???"

1.5 "no..."

And so it goes. I sat there annoyed at first, but then sliding into my most Stuart Wilde self decided to just let go and listen. I came up with several sides to this conversation. The most pressing to me at the moment was that it is NO WONDER kids grow into three year olds who repeat themselves and you to death. Like being pecked to death by ducks. The kid was *really* rather clear. Mom just pushed and pushed. For what? I would have kicked her in the shins if I were that kid. Or vomit on her shoe, yeah, that's it, vomit on the keds why dontcha.

Making a Difference...

2007-03-01T04:47:00.000-08:00

I spent some time this morning thinking about my belief that we need to make a substantive difference in the lives of people. Maybe that is just my own" up-until-now, silently pulsating" mantra, but I somehow surmise that I am not the only one.

I thought about how learning about amputation, and now working with an international foundation of hope for amputees and landmine victims, has changed not only my life but the lives of others. I have dated amputees, I have friends who are amputees, not many, but, nonetheless it is an experience for Julia to know who she is regarding people who have had that life situation.

Part of my own social justice path has to do with helping people, particularly children, who are experience-rs of amputation (and I specifically use that term rather than Victim, which I find a negative interpretation, and totally useless for healthy onward living).

I just now went down stairs to get my cup of alkaloid brew and the TV was on with clips from John Woodward's special. I look at the results of a "Man Eating Machine and Hope Destroyer"War, and I am enraged that we keep participating in this madness.

So complex an issue for some, and even for me most days, but...to see us taking these lives and breaking them to bits in the name of Anything Holy or Oil, Just. Fucking. Enrages. Me.

The above images relate as follows:

Holding the rose in the snow, a prosthetic hand is hopeful.

Molds of pediatric feet, line up, waiting in the dawn light, to be made into braces for children.

A humorous look at prosthetics. Footsie anyone?

A boy who busted his prosthetic leg more often than anyone I know. He's THAT rugged. And he loves suspension bridges.

One of my many mantras: Life! Bring It On! As a goldfish Boldly Goes.

Lets Stop this War. Let's honor the broken. Let's Get Back On Track.

Peace, Out.

Latches

2007-02-28T05:20:00.001-08:00

I think we all have latches..somewhere inside. There are places deep within that we want to keep safe and treasured.

Some people have those little hook type locks on their inner door. One good push will pretty much get you inside. Show some patience and gratitude, mix in some major curiosity with 2 parts tenacity and you can be assured of gettting in.

Some people have tumbler locks , where just the right amount of gentle wiggling and deep feeling can persuade the cautious to open up.

Some folks have the complete SoHo Do'-Lock assembly with tumblers, a dead-bolt and a bar rammed across the jamb.

Which one are You?

2007-02-27T06:47:00.000-08:00

I am working on a graphics project for Pedals for Pediatrics, a cycling team taking on the Pan-Mass Challenge which is raising funds for pediatric cancers. I am developing logos for team jerseys, water bottles and for web graphics and business applications. I really enjoy using my Joyful Skills to bring the world into a better place. This work meshes well with the work I am doing for Abilitytrek.org, which is a transglobal bike journey of hope, aiding amputees around the world. The trek is working in conjunction with ClearPath International which brings aid and hope to landmine victims around the globe.

I love being able to use my talents to better the world.

What can YOU do? Who would YOU help?

My snowy day

2007-02-14T10:11:00.000-08:00

Winter Green

Milk Jug

"You are *so* lame!"

Winter Light, Young Woman

Orange

2007-02-06T15:27:00.000-08:00

"What I use" Wednesday

2007-01-31T06:12:00.000-08:00

Proximity

2007-01-29T11:05:00.000-08:00

And Jack came knocking at my window...

2007-01-27T05:30:00.000-08:00

Color...

2007-01-27T05:27:00.000-08:00

“A very beautiful woman hardly ever leaves a clear-cut impression of features and shape in the memory: usually there remains only an aura of living color” - William Bolitho

If I were a dog...

2007-01-26T05:31:00.000-08:00

I spend more time with dogs than I do people (20 + hours a week). If I *were* a dog, this is the one I would marry. All Disney-like, replete with a reception and slurpy spaghetti a la Lady and the Tramp. I have loved a few dogs like this. My other dog love was Otis, a Rodesian Ridgeback owned by my friend, Jenny. He passed away a while ago, to be replaced with Rudy, a mutt who is gaining my affection, albeit slowly. I rather like it when he sticks his nose in my crotch and sniffs deeply. I tell him frequently that he gives me more action than I have seen in months and months. It gets annoying after a while, though. I push him away.

I like people. I even love some people. But, give me a dog and an endless span of woods and I am a happy camper. My dog friends love to see me. They greet me with fraptious joy every blessed time, as if I were covered in liver and bacon. People, not so much. Sometimes, but not with the regularity of Les Chiens.

This is why I have an oval bumper sticker on my car that says, simply:

"WOOF"

Iconoclastic Fantastic Plastic...

2007-01-23T07:30:00.000-08:00

Man, I love working with Natural Light...

2007-01-23T05:08:00.000-08:00

Cold, Calm and Colorful...

2007-01-23T05:07:00.000-08:00

Tell No One...

2007-01-16T04:06:00.000-08:00

I am reading this novel "Tell No One", with brightly colored cover, hazmat orange, flimsy paper, flitting plot, not much to hold onto, but words to caress me to sleep at night. The premise is based around a man who lost his wife years ago, lost to murder. And then he gets an odd email from her, and a link to an online webcam where he sees her, or someone he thinks is her,waving at him, after eight years, and the flood of love and tears opens him up again like a ripe fig. The story goes on, with multiple zig zags of plot twists, but the image burns into me, a splinter inside me, I return to it again and again, picking.

Funny, I feel this way about my past self. Sometimes I see her, through my periphreal vision. I see the Me I was once, in love, steeping in the belief that I was firmly planted in, the myth that I so heartily took into myself with the sweet Disney coating. It slid down my throat and it changed me, my trajectory, my youth flung over the cliff, my adulthood too passive yet to reach out and pull it back to safe ground.

I fell into love. I fell into the thought of it, the feel of it, the brush of it against my skin. Some heat born of longing, quenched only by the reflection of Beloved, began to burn. I followed that heat, like a scent, a hound paid handsomely in the endorphine rush of "belonging", never sated, I grasped. Follow the scent.

I lost that link to gravity. It no longer pushes me to the ground, and I no longer fight the pull to the fall. I don't look for love anymore.

But, sometimes, when I turn my head "just so" I see her, that girl in love, steeping in desire and happiness, just before the brink of disaster. I miss that girl sometimes, the rapture and joy, the naive belief.

I wave at that mirage.

I won't tell her about the truck that is bearing down on her.

That's my dirty little secret.

Path...

2007-01-11T05:41:00.000-08:00

There is no liberty except the liberty of some one making his way towards something. Such a man can be set free if you will teach him the meaning of thirst, and how to trace a path to a well. Only then will he embark upon a course of action that will not be without significance. You could not liberate a stone if there were no law of gravity - for where will the stone go, once it is quarried?
Antoine de Saint-Exupery

"What I Think" Wednesday...

2006-11-29T06:13:00.000-08:00

(image courtesy of Married to the Sea.com)

This about sums it up. In lots of ways. And, it makes me smile, which is a very good thing!

Hope you all are having a Meta-fabulous day. Have some tea. Read a good book. Listen to some good music. And share your snacks with others.

"Magic Moment" Monday...

2006-11-27T06:13:00.000-08:00

I am doing better right this minute, but this morning was odd...I woke up from a dream that was unsettling and the feeling followed me for the last few hours. It is starting to fade now...feeling more inside myself and less wonky.

I saw an old man this morning at a traffic light. His truck was next to mine and ahead a little. I saw him clapping his hands, leaning forward and laughing hysterically. It made me smile, just watching that. I had no choice, like a gag reflex the happy feelings got yanked right to the surface. I kept watching him, hooked into my high. He laughed again and I just beamed. Then, as I passed him I noticed that the person sitting in the car with him was a child.

Wow...I was really touched that there was this intergenerational Joy happening at 7:00 in the morning on an intersection near a Dunkin Donuts, steam and condensation still on the cars. How awesome to have a moment like that so early in the day.

What a blessing.

Quiet Grace

2006-11-22T05:41:00.000-08:00

We curl at the edges, where the dry line of us deliniates. Over that crisp edge, the freefall is remembered. We arrived. We died. We flew. We fell.

Gentle rest now, or clattering dance, we gather, mere bones and skin.

The careless hand can crack our fragile spine, our veins. Becoming dust, the soil of rebirth.

Taboo...

2006-11-21T14:06:00.000-08:00

JP (my partner in the game) picks the card.
"Hmmmmmmmmmmm", says she. Thinky. Thinky. Thinky.

"Sex is better in these", she quips.

My teen daughter and her friend break into peals of laughter.
"lingerie?", I ask.
nope, not it.

"A bed", I ask.
Nope, not it.

"Okay....bed...what else......"she says, coaxing me...
"Sheets?" I ask.
Nope not that.

Helping, the teen says:
"Jessica's brother got taken away in these"
"A POLICE CAR??????????????" I bellow.
"WHEN DID YOU HAVE SEX IN A POLICE CAR????????" asks JP.
"What the fuck?!!!!!!!!!!!!!" says the teen.
All fall into hysterics.

The word:

Handcuffs

Submission...

2006-11-21T07:27:00.000-08:00

"What I use" Wednesday...

2006-11-15T18:03:00.000-08:00

Okay, color me hippie, but I really like these products. I use them daily and re-buy them often. I am sorta sensitive to "perfumes" and SLS so I need to be aware of ingredients. Just Naturals also makes a FABOO laundry soap that is natural and scented with lavender.

Jojoba is amazing stuff, and the primary ingredient in the Wild Rose Oil.

Um, Yeah, I miss you...

2006-11-12T07:48:00.000-08:00

Yeah, you...

Bowing to the Seasons...

2006-11-07T18:25:00.000-08:00

Once a plate of white
and tiny petals
with one indigo speck
waving
She now begins her rest
curled
dry
and ready for
the onslaught of Winter

Again she will rise
and spread herself wide
to the sun
and dance
with the whispers
of the North
the hissing of summers South
the thrum of early Autumn

Now she shows her bones
her brittle and delicate underpinning
the veins that once flooded
with the liqour of light's love
pulsing into each leaf
and coursing through the pith
turgor strength
and persistence
parched and
waiting
waiting
waiting

for yet another reign of the Queen

"I wanna be someone who believes..."

2006-11-07T10:16:00.000-08:00

IMG_1170
Originally uploaded by Firespiral Arts.

I want to believe in something the way a child believes in Santa. I think many of us do. We love wrapping our Selves around something sturdy, impervious to time, so it may seem anyway.

I know that much of my life is about living Awake now. And, with that comes the loss of some myths.

But, for just a little while, it would be so wonderful to believe that your wishes were heard, and that someday, maybe soon, something on your list will arrive on a morning filled with life and love.

Our, Yours, Mine...

2006-11-06T04:45:00.000-08:00

I often think about the boundaries between all of us. (I suppose reading the Enders series and thinking about philotes and ansibles helps with this theory). We come into this world a pink and wriggling mass of potential. Almost immediately we are indoctrinated with "yours" and "mine". This is YOUR nose. These are YOUR toesies. Yes, that is YOUR truck, can you share it?

It starts that early. To assuage our sense of insecurity we are taught to put labels on things, literally. Things and people "belong" to us. At an early age we are taught about possession ( and, um I don't mean of the satanic variety. That is for another post). We find language that supports our need to express ownership. That darned philosophy tracks us down our entire lives, through loves, through money and property, weaving it's way through everything.

How different things could be if we relaxed our grip on the need to own everything, everyone. One of the huge lessons of my life these past years had to do with ownership in the context of relationship. I really craved a sense of belonging. I also felt very territorial about my partner (which, considering his hobby as a fine art nude photographer, was, well...to be expected). Having to let go of that love, and learning to let go of the expetation and hopes of another love someday coming my way was the biggest chore of the century for me. And, the most freeing.

I have had to learn about letting Go. Of expectation. Of need to own or belong. Of the desire to be "right" about things as little as how people should drive on the highway.

It is never about what you own or who you think you "have". It is always about how you see yourself in the face of those things.

Be a nice person. Be kind. Let go. You don't need all those toys to show the world who you are. Sit on that bench and think about it a little.

RED Update:

2006-11-03T12:58:00.000-08:00

It appears that the Hotel Cafe Tour has lost some of my favorite performers for a little while. Joe Purdy and Brian Wright have taken a turn off the path for a stint elsewhere, but they will return, hopefully, Though each is a fine act solo, together they are a force of nature. Brian's cd will be released soon. I have not seen it anywhere yet.

Brian Wright

While you are at it go take a listen to Jim Bianco. He has a slick Tom Waits thing going on.

Jim Bianco

If you are in the mood for a little spunky monkey music, flip over to Kevin Devine and the Goddamn Band.

Kevin Devine

His lyrics are incisive, at times hidden in a poppy-indie-folk wrapping, sometimes woven in some seriously jacked up, in your face, rock. Sitting next to him at the Red booth, he looked so unassuming. He could have been any other B.U. student slugging beer. I have not seen anyone that young throw themselves around the stage in a long time, all the while captivating us with the feeling and words. No doubt about it...this kid means what he says.

Given the voting situation, and the general unrest in the Good Ol' USA of late, click here to see what is coming out of his mouth.

No Time Flat

If you are interested (and you SHOULD be!) take a look at the RED blog, so you can see the momentum RED is building, and hear first hand stories of people they/we have helped. Oh, and check out the wey-wey cool new Special Edition RED iPod with * (count 'em)8 gigs rather than 4. Remember, 10% goes where it should. And, well RED *is* a great Holiday color, don'tcha think?

RED Blog

Fun things Friday!!!

2006-11-03T04:36:00.000-08:00

Pythonesque, and, hell, a little Marshall Efron, too...traipse around this site if you are interested in graphic design:

History as you have never seen it before!

from my daily dose of internet sanity at:

Get Dooced!

Oh. Yeah! The mind, she is fickle like ferile cat in heat, so pick a color already, stoopid eyes...:
Pink? No, Green? No?

Mamma? What the Hell is that? :

Huh? In a sort of Martian way.

Bruck-Bruck-Braaaaaaaaaaaaaak!:

Clucky Goodness

Oh, how Charmin'! For your Ex Lover, or, I dunno, let's say, Soon to Be Ex President?:

How can you NOT?

Aftermath...

2006-11-01T05:09:00.000-08:00

Three Things Tuesday...

2006-10-31T05:02:00.000-08:00

The organizations changing the world:

#1: Lafarge Ecosystems:

Lafarge Ecosystems

Lafarge Ecosystems Blog

I have been watching the blog for a while now. Something about hearing the continuing stories of animals with names appeals to the inner child in me. And, well, tiny monkeys are just the most awesome Morning Starter (okay, other than, ahem....weasles). Take a look at this organization and it's mission. Outstanding work. Can you help? Sure. Shoot 'em an email to tell them how cute Owen and Mzee are. Then ask them how you can make a difference.

#2 Heifer Project:

Heifer Project

This is well worth a gander, folks. If you don't already know of this organization, you *should* go look. Really now. I send out bee hives every holiday season. Sometimes when I am feeling rather Moo-ish I help pay for a cow. Sustain Thyself is the message here. Give them fish and they eat for a day. Teach them to fish they can live a lifetime. A larger percent of what you send gets where you want it to go with these folks. No more skimming money for vacations for the dude in the copy room. If you don't buy RED (see previous post) at least buy something that will pay forward for a long time.

#3: Wisdom Leadership:

Wisdom Leadership

I have always believed that feminine energy is creative and protective in ways that male energy is not. Both are important. Balance in Everything. Sure. But...I firmly believe that companies (okay, the WORLD at large) would do themselves a huge service by searching for, attracting and sustaining a workforce of leaders who are women. Take a peek. See what you think. At the very least, if we *are* going to hell in a handbasket, it will be a *pretty* one.

THINK RED,BUY RED!

2006-10-30T06:01:00.000-08:00

Join Red

Buy the Change you want to see:

Join RED. Think RED. Buy Red.

Red is a business strategy aimed at eradicating AIDS around the world, but particularly aiming the big gun of the material juggernaut at solving the devastation laid bare in Africa due to this epidemic. Spearheaded by Bono, of U2 fame, this seeming simple strategy offers all of us a hands-on way to make a real difference in this beast of an issue. Portions of all proceeds garnered by Red Companies will be directly impact the ability of African people's ability to receive AIDS drugs. We can get the pills to these people, by buying RED. It is that simple. Look it up. Do it.

Last night I was Priviledged to attend a benefit concert sponsored by RED at the Paradise Rock Club in Boston, Kenmore Square. The guys (okay and a few girls, too) are still sleeping on the bus heading to Philly as I write this, and they deserve the rest. That was one hell of a magical play date. Any of you who are into Scrubs, or Grey's Anatomy, Indi Rock or Zach Braff (Garden State and The Last Kiss) and his latest musical propulsions will recognize some of the dynamite in the roster last night. The stage was filled at all times with incredible energy, camaraderie and music with a metric butt-load of fun and soul behind it. And all of the folks on the Hotel Cafe Tour 2006 played for free. Our ticket prices, in great part, helped spread the word of RED, and the impetus behind the show was apparent. These guys played their hearts and soul out for 4 hours.

The roster of talent included Joshua Radin, Cary Brothers,Brian Wright, Joe Purdy, Jim Bianco, Kate Havenik, Kevin Devine and the Goddamned Band, and their attending support staff. I was fortunate to sit with the folks at the RED table, where a laptop was set up for people to log in their email to get information on the corporations involved in the Red campaign (see link above). These guys are all friends, and it shows in the way they play together. Jovial, jumping,jamming and dancing on the edge of musical Glory, they obviously were enjoying themselves as they played well into the night, and continued well past the regularly scheduled playlist. As far as I could tell each contributor was totally on the top of their form, the band was hella tight and there was no shortage of goosebumps and awe from the continuous rally of indie rock, jazz, blues and serious vein sucking folk. A seamless mix of hard and fast, cool and slow, screaming guitars and almost whispered songs of lost love, this is a concert not to be missed if you can help it. See Here for tour dates and locations. From the website above describing the Hotel Cafe Tour 2006:

"Once just a small coffee shop, The Hotel Café has quickly blossomed into not only one of the premier singer/songwriter venues in the United States, but also an all-purpose clubhouse for a burgeoning community of Los Angeles songwriters.

After an enormously successful first run in the fall of 2005, The Hotel Café Tour is ready for its sophomore road trip. Twenty-five artists will share one bus, one band and one crew and embark on a six-week journey throughout the United States.

The tour will feature a rotating lineup of at least six artists at every show, all sharing musicians and supporting one another, making for a unique night of music. The traveling circus is held together by performer and co-organizer Cary Brothers, who will be present for the entire tour.

After major success with his song Blue Eyes on the Grammy Award-winning Garden State soundtrack, Cary Brothers and The Hotel Café Tour continue their relationship with Zach Braff, featuring many of the artists included on The Last Kiss soundtrack.

The Hotel Café Tour has no cookie cutter corporate American Idols, just real music, written by real artists, surrounded by real friends, who actually have a story to tell. Check your city to see who is playing and expect lots of surprises! And show up early, as it's not a normal opener/opener/headliner line up!"

So, go see them, you won't be sorry. And, remember to BUY RED for the upcoming holiday season. Now, we have another opportunity to make our dollars make a difference.

Buckshot LeFonque

2006-10-28T19:54:00.000-07:00

Oh, Yeahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh....

"Add a little this...take out a little that..."

Weaving together jazz, R&B, rock and hip-hop, the music of Buckshot LeFonque has always defied categorization (an unpardonable sin in some quarters). But that's just the way an ensemble of merry pranksters like Buckshot LeFonque prefer it. It was two years ago when saxophonist/composer Branford Marsalis first got together with some of his musically like-minded friends to form Buckshot LeFonque and record their debut album. Now the band is back with Music Evolution, an album as indefinable as its predecessor, yet even more thrilling.-BranfordMarsalis.com

Branford Marsalis – Saxophones, Drum Programming
DJ Apollo – Wheels O’ Steel
Rocky Bryant – Percussion
Reginald Veal – Acoustic bass
L. Carl Burnett – Guitar
Joey Calderazzo – Piano
Russell Gunn – Trumpet
Mino Cinelu – Percussion
David Sanborn – Alto Saxophone
Reggie Washington – Bass
John Touchy – Trombone
Will Lee – Bass
Frank McComb – Keyboards, Vocals
Sue Pray – Viola
Julien Barber – Viola
Barry Finclair – Violin
John Pintavalle – Violin
Donna Tecco – Violin
Richard Locker – Cello
Carol Webb Sotomme – Concert Master
50 Styles: The Unknown Soldier – Vocals
Laurence Fishburne – Spoken Word
Ben Wolfe – Acoustic Bass
Delfeayo Marsalis – Trombone
Eric Revis – Acoustic Bass

Adolescent Mask

2006-10-26T07:16:00.000-07:00

I take pictures. Often. Very Often. And, probably the most rewarding shoots are the portraitures. I have always been fascinated by the human face. I know, most children focus on faces in their infancy. And, it is also a well known fact that children will have vivid memories of times when the first experience trauma. For me, in infancy, at one point my parents were simply not available. So, it is my belief that at that point, when I would cherish the sight of their faces leaning over my crib, the beginning of a very long path was born.

As a child I learned to study faces, to survive. Because of my family dynamic it was imperative that I learn to read body language so that I could feed back to them what they wanted to be fed. If I was not one step ahead, chaos would reign.

As a 6 yr. old, I was already steeped in Yousef Karsh portraits. I was mesmerized by the clarity, the very pores of the men and women portrayed, crystal clear. There was something behind the eyes, that was a traitor to the stance, to the pose...the rage in Churchill's eyes, for example.

When I take pictures of people, I speak a little prayer of sorts, a beckoning to the Powers, that I may capture the spark, the dark, the insane or the glorybound in that space which lingers behind the mask, yet before the bone.

Faith without Proof...

2006-10-24T06:57:00.000-07:00

In response to a blog entry of a friend about his despair regarding loss of relationship and his cynicism about bonding and True Love:

I sense your cynicism and despair. It is a palpable cloud around you. But I also sense it is lifting. This is a good thing. When you shine, you are so brilliant.

Over the past few years my core beliefs about True Love have shifted dramatically. I *used* to be addicted to Disney Chemicals, that pervasive notion in our culture that there is The One out there who will match you so perfectly. It is a shame that we indoctrinate our youth, particularly our women, who then pass this on to the next generation of women, with this idea that lightning will strike them and when the smoke clears the Beloved will be standing there, perfect and whole and willing to merge to the core, ready to take care of them, to take the lonliness away forever.

There is no perfect. There is no whole. There is no merging to the core.

I have a firm belief in the Spiritual Beginning of the Universe. I believe that when we click so deeply with someone we don't know well, that we are actually Remembering what it was to be part of a Whole. Part of God. The many faces of In His Image. Call it what you will, but there is a definate recognition that happens. And that alchemy is intoxicating. Like anything good that is intoxicating, it behooves one to be judicious about the degree to which we turn ourselves over to it.

Most people fall into love. Fall. Into...unaware, blind and jacked up on the high of endorphine and recognition, desire and hope, they wander deep into the woods, unaware.

Love takes work. And True Love, Soul Connected love, is deep and rich and messy and noisy and quiet and profound and delicate and so many things that cannot be understood with the roar of Myth in your ears. It takes a lot of work to stay Centered. It takes bravery to face the fact that the person standing before you is human, and NOT the image you have carried around with you since youth. Falling into humanity, from the pedestal of Desire and Want, is a long, hard drop.

It takes a lot of self love and compassion for others to be able to stay in a relationship when the masks drop, when the bloody shards of our hurts become apparent, when we are brave enough to divulge how hurt and broken we are inside.

I do believe in Supreme Connection. I do believe in Big Love, in Profound Relationship. They come at odd times, at great risk. I believe that Falling In Love happens. I also believe whole heartedly in Walking into Love. Much gentler process.

The ability to stay in Self and with Other at the same time is crucial to maintaining balance. The siren song of Merging Souls is loud and it sways you away from Self. It can be a clever ruse to steer you away from the work you may need to do, and some people use it as such. Being profoundly connected to someone through love (agape or other wise) can be a phenomenal way to learn about yourself and the world. Having another heart, mind, soul and body to show you things about yourself and the world that you could never have known without that particular viewpoint, is part of the Good Magic of bonding.

The Biggest Hurts from abandonment are born of our inability to be at Home and at Peace with ourselves. It is a curse of our own making that we so quickly abandon ourselves to new relationship. If one can remain awake, alive and happy with *oneself*, only then can true partnering, healthy communion and soulful bonding survive.

And only through Real Commitment to path together can we as humans make the best and take the most from our relationships. That promise means to commit to truth and to the awareness that Change happens. It also means that we don't quit until it Just Does Not Work and Never Will.

Too many people make that choice too soon.

My 349 cents worth.

Three Truths and a Lie...

2006-10-18T05:36:00.000-07:00

I have a hard time controlling my urge to slap clowns. Really. I do. If you know me at all you know that I am a kind person, not prone to violence. But, put a clown in front of me and my arm starts to twitch and my hand gets really hot. It has to do with a clown, a pony and a sunny day in Framingham when I was 4. Don't ask. *rubs arm, cracks elbow, crunkles knuckles*

I have a true disdain for fluffy toilet paper. It is an environmental issue for me, in the moral sense of the word. And I hate the way it feels, all flurrrffy-like and thirsty, all poofy and bumpy. No, my nether regions prefer the straight up Scott brand, as does my archaic plumbing (okay, and my wallet too..cause I have 2 teen girls and you KNOW how much they jam in the pot, eh?)

Once I stole something from my friend Rachels house during an overnight. I was changing the record on the record player (ah, yes, 'member doze?) and I found a pretty barrette on the table. It had sparkles and some ribbons, really thin ones, dangling from the top. I was never a froofy kind of girl, choosing instead to be the rough and tumble sort who plays Garage Door Limbo with the boys. But, that barrette spoke to me of pretty. And I wanted me some o dat. So I took it. It still haunts me to this day.

As a kid I used to get leg cramps at night. This happened often. My mother assumed that I was calling out in the night for attention, so she decided, after the first few times, to ignore it. That felt good, I tell ya. She came into my room one night and told me that I should "just think of something ELSE, and to Really Concentrate on it, and the cramp would go away". I decided to think of a vacuum cleaner. Now, every time I get a leg cramp my mind shoots straight to the Electrolux.

Plant Sex

2006-10-17T06:33:00.000-07:00

Maybe it is just me *smirk* but plant sex still astounds me. I mean, we get lots of motion and grace (sometimes) and sweat and pushing and pulling and sounds and slurpy goodness from human sexuality, but when I look at the silent, reverant process of plants reproducing I am in awe.

One brief touch of a milkweed pod like this causes the spewing forth of bunches of seeds, each equipped with gossamer wings to carry it far and wide to a new birthing place. The ripening of the seed pods and the pollinating of the stamens and pistils, the acorns dropping, the wing dings making their helicopter flight to the ground, all of these relate to a never ending need to keep going, keep growing, keep your tribe alive and in a place of prosperity.

I wish I could drop like a chestnut, shedding my spiny shell, revealing my marbled and glistening, almost oily, surface inside.

I wish I could release my heart like this milkpod sends its issue forth, tossed into the wind, so easily.

I wish I could feel the gentle rub of a beloveds touch, gathering my granules of desire and carrying them to other places, forseeing a gentle, sprouting tendril for Spring.

In this time of Harvest, gather what you will and take what you need, but stop along the way to sing praises to the plants who are crazily thrashing, or silently whispering their sex right before you.

Look. Listen. Feel.

Yesterday's Forgotten Post (sorry)...

2006-10-16T04:43:00.000-07:00

"While stuck in our ego-mind we attempt to ignore, deny or disregard this sacred, knowing part of ourselves. This part can bring us true and eternal fulfillment and satisfaction. All it takes is one holy instant of grasping the wonder of it all, and we can come to know love as it was created. We will no longer be attached to the sickly image we have made of it. Rarely do most of us live our lives as if we knew this to be so, either for ourselves or for anyone else. How many of us have attemtped to keep doing, achieving, aquiring, and yet remain unfulfilled, empty on the inside?"- Joan Gattuso "A Course in Love"

Bible Light

2006-10-16T04:28:00.000-07:00

As I drove down the highway yestereday after our amazing afternoon I was gifted with a breathtaking vision before my eyes. The clouds, already dramatic and billowing, with edges of pinks and greys, separated for a few minutes, and as I was heading down 495 toward Lowell, with the whole world before me, the sun peeked through and shot rays of all colors from the clouds, bathing the landscape below. I used to call this Bible Light when I was a kid. I thought it was God.

In my entire life I have never seen this huge a spectacle of light. It was astounding. I actually cried. Usually, one sees a few white rays beaming down, but this time there must have been hundreds, all colors, pale sea green, diaphanous blue, just barely yellow, white, and it shot out in all directins.

It was the most perfect eyegasm I have ever had, I think. It reached way down into my soul, caught a thread from the inside and pulled me inside out.

I felt so damned grateful. For that vision. For my afternoon with friends. For the course of my life right now.

(note: that photo is not of what I saw, but it is the closest I can find to it...multiply the rays in that image by, say, 30, throw in a ton of colors and a lighter sky and that is much closer)

Stay Awake...

2006-10-13T13:25:00.000-07:00

"Everything we do - our discipline, effort, meditation, livelihood, and every single thing that we do from the moment we're born until the moment we die - we can use to help us to realize our unity and our completeness with all things. We can use our lives, in other words, to wake up to the fact that we're not separate: the energy that causes us to live and be whole and awake and alive is just the energy that creates everything, and we're part of that. We can use our lives to connect with that, or we can use them to become resentful, alienated, resistant, angry, bitter. As always, it is up to us." - Pema Chodron - The Wisdom of No Escape

Slow and Steady...

2006-10-05T05:07:00.000-07:00

Find that tipping point, the juncture where Change can happen. Go forward gently, persistently, working toward the goal you have set. Take breaks every now and again to feed yourself that which will strengthen you in your endeavors. And go back again to the task at hand, the crafting of your life. You will get there. The change will happen. Building a life takes a lifetime to do. One bite at a time.

Hopeful...

2006-10-04T13:38:00.000-07:00

Today

2006-10-03T07:50:00.000-07:00

Hold each moment briefly, like a wave. Each will crest and fall and succumb to the backwards pull of the past, waiting for yet another to take its place, rumbling and rolling into the present. Each minute is a shimmering reflection of time and place, moving, undulating and passing into another form even as you experience it. Don't hold onto the rocks for safety. Emmerse yourself in the Wetness that is the baptism of Life.

Where angels fear to tread...

2006-09-27T19:30:00.000-07:00

Don't Choke on Supposes...

2006-09-27T11:02:00.000-07:00

Don't choke on supposes
nor snare on the thorn
of roses still clinging
to that vine of enchantment

Trying the mind
and tearing the soul comes of
if's and of what's
and rolling the maybe's
between your warm palms of desire

Regret burns a surface
so deep within flesh
that no light can find it
so step well beyond it
and over it over it over
it slip

Don't choke on supposes
nor tear out the blooms
of hope still arising
just give it some room
to drop seeds for next spring

Clouds...

2006-09-25T12:07:00.000-07:00

Though outwardly a gloomy shroud,
The inner half of every cloud
Is bright and shining:
I therefore turn my clouds about
And always wear them inside out
To show the lining.
- Ellen Thorneycroft Fowler (Mrs. A.L. Felkin)

Playing with the New Lens!

2006-09-25T12:06:00.000-07:00

Because...

2006-09-25T05:22:00.000-07:00

http://www.howtosavealife.com/

I dont care what sort of music you hate or love. I don't care if you listen to The Fray. Frankly, it does not matter where your musical predilictions lie. Click on this and watch the video and really listen.

What matters to me is that my 11 yr old daugher loves this song, and understands it, and wants to know how to help the world.

So, what can YOU do to help save a life? Really. Think about it.

From my friend, Eiblyn...

2006-09-25T04:45:00.000-07:00

"Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. "
~Rainer Maria Rilke

Letter to a Friend...

2006-09-22T14:57:00.000-07:00

Dear X,

Let's See....

Julia's adventures in the past few days...

Well, the golden tooooobed flautist and I had lattes and got in the car and
drove to Crane's Beach (see attached) and walked and talked. We watched these little blonde children run naked in the surf and sun. They were maybe 1 1/2 yrs old. It was so gorgeous out that day.

We drove home and huggedgoodbye. I came home and went to sleep earl-eye-in-da-evening. Then I catered the Grotonfest art festival on Saturday all day. Many falafels passed my way...If 'ere I see another, T'will be but a shame. Ugh.

Sunday was a clearing my space day. Lots of getting rid of dross and chaos,flotsam and jetsam. It felt good. Then the week started and life got full of work.

Last night I stayed with my friend, Sam. I get up at 5 AM when I visit, and take my tripod down the street to take pictures.

It is sort of a turning to Mecca thing for me, the break of a new day. All that resting hope,eternally balanced on that razor edge of Now of which you spoke before. I wait and watch the sun as it incrementally rises over the black silhouettes.

Tonight, I am feeling a bit sad, as it would have been my 9th anniversary with my ex Beloved of 8 yrs. Just sort of poignant, and feeling in need of touch. I am off to my friend, Jenny's for dinner and to give her the injections for her MS and then I will be home...maybe continue reading Ender's Game.

I loved talking with you today.

Really.

Jwf

Too Late's Come and Gone...

2006-09-21T12:43:00.000-07:00

There is no turning back, now. Summer has left in a huff, and the season at hand is well heeled. The leaves are already doing their arabesques, and grapes are either bursting or withering on the vine.

It is too late to claim the summer back. Onward to the darker days and longer nights, as the Equinox approaches.

I am shedding the old and settling in for harvest and nesting for winter ahead. I am letting go of that thief, expectation, and putting in her stead a healthy dose of gratitude with a Hope chaser. Best I can do. Hope.

I am not waiting anymore. I am a wakeful dreamer now. I still dream, but I know what is and is not. I will follow the scent if it crosses my path, and I will welcome the fall with open arms.

Yay for Me!

2006-09-21T03:20:00.000-07:00

I got myself a present yesterday! I purchased this silkscreen poster from http://www.thefarmbarn.com. It is about 18x28 inches in size. Go check them out, they have done some excellent work. I found them by way of my buddy Anne from www.amplesanity.com.

2006-09-21T03:03:00.000-07:00

I was helping my teen translate her assignment of a particularly difficult chapter of Oedipus yesterday. I was explaining, in terms she could understand ( you know, like, MTV terms), a conversation between Oedipus and Jocasta. When Oedipus confesses to having met and killed the people in the carriage long time gone, and realizes that the soothsayer may just be right about him killing his father and sleeping with his mother...she blurts out:

"Mom, (pause)...THIS would make an excellent episode on Jerry Springer!!!"

So right, my child, so very right.

Cranes Beach

2006-09-17T15:54:00.000-07:00

2006-09-17T14:59:00.000-07:00

Newburyport 5AM...

2006-09-17T14:52:00.000-07:00

Yes...

2006-09-11T14:12:00.000-07:00

Setting the seeds
the bulbs of the future
down into the soil
the potential
the moist and soft "yes",
I begin to find self
and same
and same again.

I remember why I love
being who I am
and why I search still
for love,
despite the odds,
hope prevails.

I stand still and wait now,
balanced and whole
in where I am at this exact moment
of life
of love
of time,
swimming in the when and why.

I do not have the grasp
of clue
to know for sure
and that is fine.
I am loved
and alive
and the rest will follow.

The cry of Rust...

2006-09-06T07:14:00.000-07:00

some alchemy that begins
finds no peace in ending
the longevity
of the tide of demise
is only seeming

stories told
your words beat softly
against my face
like the winds
of bird wings flutter

love me
love my rust
along with my label
words still clear
you can read me
touch me and know.

Games...

2006-09-04T11:49:00.000-07:00

Have some fun today. Play some games. Play with color. Play with yourself. Play with Life.

Today's Ear Worm...

2006-08-30T09:04:00.000-07:00

Donovan Frankenreiter-Self Titled (2004)

The musical connection to and with Jack Johnson is clearly evident in this 2004 release, and, in fact, Jack helped out a great deal on this album. Subsequent releases from Donovan depart from this more melodic, laid back style, but still showcase his abilty for slick and smokey romance beat vocals. This is a great Sunday morning choice, mellow and full of acoustic layers. I bought this off of iTunes, and it is on hot rotation. He's got a real Ray LaMontagne thing goin' on here, and I like it. Lots.

Sit back with a drink or three, the windows still open with the newly cool air seeping in, run your hands through you hair and sigh. Summer's not over quite yet. Still time for capturing that glimmer in a moment, a song, a kiss.

One of these things is not like the other...

2006-08-23T05:59:00.000-07:00

When I was a kid my mom came to the breakfast table with a funny look on her face. I asked her what was up. She told me that she had mistakenly applied hairspray to her armpits instead of being Sure to be Dry. I never forgot that story, obviously.

Yesterday, whilst cleaning my bathroom, I noticed on the shelf by the shower, these two cans side by side.

I then remembered my daughter asking me in the car the other day what I thought of the rash on her legs. She wanted to know if I thought she was allergic to the shaving cream

Ahhhhh......mebbe.

Currently Licking My Ears...

2006-08-22T06:44:00.000-07:00

I got this cd via half.com after zizzing around iTunes last week. I think it was linked with Glen Phillips (another cd I got after hearing only 1 track). There is a distinct possiblity that I landed near Costa after reading Zach Braff's blog. Anything even remotely related to Zach gets my immediate attention. As if Scrubs wasn't enough, then Gardn State and now his new flick...he has his finger squarely on the pulse of joy-folk-indie bands and I think his choices for his soundtracks rock the igloo.

Anyway, this is a keeper, and one that I have listended to, oh, 10 times since I got it in the mail yesterday. Good driving music, excellent coffee in bed music and a great new friend for my ears.

After having to listen to the "Licky, Licky, Crunk and Bootie" music of my teens while we drive around (insufferable crap) coming home to my computer to do work, listening to this music is like a vacation in the mountains after living in gridlock for a year. With a midget jumping on my head. Yelling about cognac and gettin- it on.
Bah.

When I listen to this music I think of Natalie Portman in Garden State, listening to her walkman and jiving about in silence. Then again, it does not take much to make me think of Natalie Portman.

Speaking of which, am I the only one who saw the similarity betwee V (in V for Vendetta) and the Prince in Shrek???? That bugged me the whole time.

Wine-eaux

2006-08-21T12:24:00.000-07:00

I had a most gregarious wine tasting in Salem on Saturday. I poured a sparkling brut from Westport Mass, along with a chardonnay from same. Then we hopped over to the Loire to a nifty Vouvray, followed by a Pinot Blanc from Alsace, a german blend varietal and a Cote-du-Rhone Villages. Mike, the owner of the wine store opened a few of his own choice as well, including this Gnarly Head Old Vine Zinfandel. Now, if you know your zins (and remember to zin is human, don't be ashamed) you will remember some of the old timers, back when zinfandel did not know much about it's soon to be adopted retarded little brother, White. White Zin is the Billy Carter of the family. This zin is chewy (ya, I said chewy) and full of character, for under 10 buckaroos. Go. Get. Some. Now.

At one point some oysters were had, and some irish cheddar, sausages and bread form a local artisan bakery. Someone brought chocolates, truffles, in fact, to have with the Tokay and Muscat dessert wines. I am not one for dessert wines unless they be Port or Sauternes, but the chocolate, it was goooooood.

So, that was the yumminess that was my Saturday.

Time of Ages...

2006-08-19T05:36:00.000-07:00

I walked the paths at Ward Hill reservation last weekend. I hiked up to Holt hill where there are solstice stones that have been there for many, many years. From that hilltop you can see Boston. I stretched out under some trees and spent time looking up at the clouds forming. They stretched from one fluffy shape into longer, thinner and more interesting designs. I thought about the speed at which they were moving, and how it looked to be so slow, when in fact, they were moving at quite a clip. I also saw a plane going by, far, far up. It seemed to be moving so slowly, yet I knew it was hauling ass across the horizon to it's destination.

Things seem to move slowly from a distance.

And these stones, who have sat here for the ages, supporting numerous sittings and celebrations, do so quietly. To some.

To me they sang loudly of spirit and solidity, of direction and of quiet contemplation.

People are like that. There is a lot going on on the inside that you can't see or feel or hear. Change is always happening, and sometimes you can only really sense it when the energy reaches a tumultuous cusp and it all flows over into the newness of something different.

If you open your soul to the songs and visions of change that are going on around you, you can see a whole new world of being. Hold onto the stability of whatever faith you have and peek over the edge into something new.

Aging...

2006-08-15T07:58:00.000-07:00

I went to visit my elderly friend in the re-hab place down the road this morning. I saw many people, leaning here and there, staring into nowhere, sitting in chairs watching tv., living life in tiny increments, even that burdensome.

I wonder sometimes what sort of old lady I am going to be. I have mental images of my being an artsy, relaxed old woman, marked with wisdom and grace. I like to hold that thought of me, having had some time to be myself, and grow deeply into the best parts of who I am. I wonder if I will be partnered or not, or if my lifepartner would pass before me, leaving me to die alone.

I often hear from people that they are afraid to die alone. That does not bother me so very much. I think it will be an amazing journey, and I might prefer to be alone with my passing to enjoy it most fully without having to make it better for those around me.

What scares me is being in fear and pain alone. What terrifies me is being abandoned by people who are my tribe and family. What makes me the most sad is the possibility that I will be stuck, like those men and women I saw this morning, in some half-way place between being alive and being dead, with strangers around them.

I would rather be put out on an ice flow and sent down river.

Another fine day in the woods...

2006-08-13T13:18:00.000-07:00

Who's that trip-trapping on my bridge?...

2006-08-12T15:58:00.000-07:00

I was reading an "alternative living" magazine today and stumbled on a section about goats. I have a certain "thing" for goats. Long story. Not important. Dan was making some new ale today, and as he was cooling down the wort we had a little discussion. It went sorta like this:

Me: So, I am really thinking about getting goats someday. I mean, really, I love goat's milk, and I would love to learn to make goat's cheese, and they will eat practically anything and if you socialize with them they can be quite lovely.

Dan: You know, a while back, particularly in Oregon, where I lived, they had started to do some real farming of goat, for meat. But, it never really took off much. Too bad, though, because pound for pound they are a reasonably economic and efficient protein source.

Me: I dunno. I think I could raise chickens to eat and not feel too badly, but a goat, well, that's a lot bigger and more friendly...

Dan: That's why you need ME around. You can go out with the glass of wine to the redwood hot tub while I "get" dinner.

Me: Hmmm, maybe.

Dan: You know....they were coming out with a new breed of goat a while back...

Me: Yeah, it's called Scapegoat. (laughing now...)

Dan: No..........That's what the Democrats are for.

*Total melt-down giggle fit*

Things Kids Say...

2006-08-12T10:36:00.000-07:00

I was driving along yesterday and I got stuck in traffic at an intersection. I am not known for my patience in these matters. I kept my cool, but I did say, rather loudly:

"WHERE did ALL these PEOPLE COME FROM????!" To which my 11 yr. old replied, rather slowly (ya know so I could *get* it fully):

"Mom......see.......when a man and woman really love one another....."

I laughed the whole way home.

Everything looks different in black and white...

2006-08-11T19:56:00.000-07:00

I have been accused of black and white thinking in the past. Tonight as I watched the fire I thought to myself that at times it is the thinking in black and white which brings clarity. Take away the noise of the color and see what you find.

I miss you

2006-08-10T12:53:00.000-07:00

Originally uploaded by Firespiral Arts.

You blew into and out of my life so quickly it made me dizzy. Our meeting was powerful and full of connections from some far distant past. I am glad that you have made it back to your beloved Colorado, and that music is flowing for and from you so well. Know that you are missed. I wish you well.

You can here Joseph's music at: http://www.myspace.com/josephcalitri

Parse-ly, Sage, Rosemary and What?....

2006-08-09T14:28:00.000-07:00

"Scheduled outage at 4:00PM PDT"

Tell me I am not the ONLY one who parsed this as "scheduled outrage"

Things that really "rip my biscuit"...

2006-08-09T14:09:00.000-07:00

I would really like to know why it is that the woman in front of me at the grocery store, the one with the hefty aubuelita and snotty kid, the one with the, count 'em, SEVEN distinctly different WIC food stamp checks, has more and better food on the belt than I. I work hard. I have three part time jobs, have just started my own business as of last year and am raising 2 kids. Where's the beef?

I can't sit with my hands in my pockets and my mouth shut when someone "leaves" something in a cart in a store, like, say....Walmart, and then leaves with it knowing full well that the person checking them out did not see it, nor were they charged for it. That, kind readers, tweaks my bolts.

I want to know why it is that Dunkin Donuts can possibly hire so many idiots. I know there are many people out there who need jobs, but, come on, how hard is it to stock straws? Don't mess with my Smoothie. Really now. No. Straws. Anywhere.

And, speaking of no straws, how about Last Straw...Friendly's not having chocolate ice cream? How about Vanilla? Nope. Neither. Christ on a Criss Craft!

Let's re-visit the smoking practices of my neighbor. Let's remember how fond I am of her hourly stink-a-thon. She protects her baby from her smoke by going outside and smoking Right. Outside. My. Window. My cats practically choke on it. My plants in the window died, and I am reasonably sure it was the smoke, and had absolutely nothing to do with the lack of water or the music I was playing all week. See if I care if she coughs up a lung on her deck. I will get the hose and turn it on her, I will.

If you are going to have an answering machine, voicemail WHATEVA, do NOT set it at the Speed Of Light setting, which pretty much keeps me to "Ah, yeah, this is Julia, can you ple---" And, by no means whatsoever should you make your greeting sound SO REAL as to have me talk back to you for a few seconds before I grok that it isn't you. That isn't funny.

Never, ever, ever leave the bathroom with the complete knowledge that the toilet paper is gone.

And finally if you are a check out girl at Home Despot and you are on duty, DO NOT spend the entire time on the phone, speaking in spanish about what you want for dinner. I know enough spanish to tell you where to put said dinner.

'Nuff sed.

Light, attaching, again...

2006-08-07T10:41:00.000-07:00

Something about the soft, gentle curve of this bowl as the sun touched it called out to me. The bright crescent reminded me of new moons and hope and renewal.

After such a wonderful day in Vermont yesterday, today began in rough measure. I must try to remember that new beginnings are always happening, and that what looks like a well-trodden and worn path can often have bright openings and surprises.

Me and some Fatseaux from the Loire...

2006-08-07T08:05:00.000-07:00

I spent the weekend in the company of some wines from the Loire Valley. I am bored with Californian wines, and their clobbering oak and clumsy alcohol content. Same with Australia. Why, the other night I had 2, count 'em 2, glasses of Sauvignon Blanc from Australia and after that I had to put one foot on the floor and one hand on the wall just to assure myself that I was still in this dimension. What fun is that? Especially with no one else around to hold me down and remind me of my corporeal boundaries. Sheesh.

So, I had a date with a bottle of Vouvray on Saturday, lush and peachy and figgy it was. It loved me gently, albeit with alacrity. I watched Mario do obscene and gorgeous things with fennel. As much as I adore that man's food, he is way to squishy for my taste, even with half a bottle of Vouvray in me.

Sunday, I read "Wicked" more, and found myself getting annoyed with the parallels to the Potter series.

Then, an impromptu drive to Vermont to visit a new friend, whereupon I engaged in more lust with a bottle of Muscadet while she painted her house and I lounged with friends as we all watched her fine form balance on the ladder. The Muscadet provided a luscious tone to the already perfect afternoon out in the backyard of a fabulous home off the back roads. The temperature was a cool 72, the sun was shining across the upper field and good friends, good wine and tasty snacks were casually gamboling about.

Dinner at the Norwich Inn was quite good. Coming home late and falling into bed I really wanted to stretch out time, to go back and do it again, to live that open, free, green and simple day from beginning to end. I met some wonderful people who have many stories of travel to far off places. I laughed and walked in untended fields feeling the beginning of Autumn creep around the edges.

And now, back to the regularly scheduled program...laundry, work, kids, dentist appointment, dog walks, cleaning...

Le Sigh.

Peaceful Places

2006-08-04T09:58:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I just wait for the glory to flow, or the destiny to sing, or the magic to just happen. To me, that is something I do not take for granted, that siren song of life. Sometimes it comes just before I click the shutter, or utter the whispers of love at the precipice of desire. Often that moment comes to me in nature.

I think of all the rubble and dust, pain and blood, fear and hate that is surrounding the world. Rich, drunk, famous men spouting anger and insanity prompt not much else than scoffing. Blogs everywhere mention this incident and write witty things, me included. Where does it fit in this abundant world, this word slinging against one another? Just before the rocks and bombs. People wounded inside would others.

Between the heat here in New England and the pain rising in the world, I find it all the more important to seek my peaceful places, those that resonate of the heavy moment of goodness, deep with watery silence, or quiet broken only by the hush of the leaves in the buffeting breezes.

I can't think clearly when the cocophony is at height. The din makes me unable to act sometimes. Shock and Awe, slimy companions, pulling at my pockets, ask me for my attention. Gimmie. Gimmie. Gimmie some of that goodness you have in there, they ask. They spend it quickly, on candy and other such temporal things. I am learning to not listen to them so much, to not give into the rant at the watercoolers of life, to not bandy about smart witties. Lives are being lost.

I want to sit down with Shock and Awe and let them know that there are other ways of being in this world. I want to tell them to shut up and sit down and think about what they have done.

More-so, though, I want to hug them and tell them that we invoked them and while they have a purpose, it is inappropriate to be hanging around with the gossip crowd. They can go to people and beckon them to action in better ways than they have.

First, and foremost, I will take them to my quiet place and put my arm around them and tell them to just breathe.

Shark Bite...

2006-08-03T11:01:00.000-07:00

So I was sitting in my local watering hole, Mango Grill (walking distance, mind you) having a double Gin and Tonic (Sapphire, of course!) and the bartender was shaking up this concoction. It was tres Bleu. It looked coma-inducingly sweet. I asked what it was and she said it was called Shark Bite.

Ew.

But, in case you were wondering, no there is no perfumed essence of Captain Jack Sparrow in it, but there is Cap'n Morgan. No relative I hear. Too bad. (If Jack Sparrow was in that stuff, I would drink myself into a stupor, but I digress)

Here ya go:

Shark Bite recipe

Ingredients
Scale ingredients to servings

3/4 oz Captain Morgan® Original spiced rum
3/4 oz light rum
1/2 oz Blue Curacao liqueur
1 1/2 oz sweet and sour mix
3 drops grenadine syrup

Fill a shaker with ice. Add the spiced rum, light rum, sour, and blue curacco. Shake the ingredients well. Strain into a rocks glass. Garnish with three drops of grenadine.

Love Child: Or: Runway to Hell...

2006-08-03T06:55:00.000-07:00

Just for giggles, imagine the demon-spawn love-child of Hell's Kitchen and Project Runway for just a minute...Of course it would be an adopted child, reared by the diametrically opposed Gordon Ramsay and Tim Gunn.

Imagine the model strutting down the cat walk while Gordon yells at her:

"Move faster, you big f'ing COW!!!!!!!!"

Flames riding high into the night, with a pit of Mordor at the end, Tim would be wringing his very soft hands at the end of the runway whispering:

"Yesssssssssssss. My Precioussssssssssssssss!"

"Move it, move it MOVE IT! I want crispy! I want sizzle!", screams Gordon.

"Dear? Do you have a moment to do a bit of a swift and graceful turn-about? Just at the end? Yes, Dar. Right there?! Oh Gooood. Spot On!", crinkles Tim.

Yeah, two glasses of Vouvray in the AC with a TV makes me think like that.

(axially, no. I think like that all on my own)

Dive In

2006-08-02T09:23:00.000-07:00

Originally uploaded by Firespiral Arts.

Just sit still for a while. Sip in life slowly. Feel the melting in your mouth. Stay Cool. Stay Centered.

Can you hear me now?

2006-07-31T07:40:00.000-07:00

I was really hungry. I had been standing in line at Verizon Wireless for about 30 years today. I was behind a woman and her mom and the woman's baby. The baby, well, she did not like granny so very much. No, the kissing thing, it wasn't gonna fly. Tears, spit and kicking ensued. Granny dealt with it. Sorta.

The Heidi I've-Got-A-Huge-Bug-Up-My-Ass was next. See, someone in the office, the one on the phone? so she told her that she couldn't add those extra text message minutes on after the bill and like, she got a huge bill and then, and then, and then she went off...

Janice, behind the desk? She already told all of us that it was Not A Good Day for Janice. But, we alraedy knew that onaccounta that nasty smirk, the one that looks like she just ate a piece of nasty cheese THINKING it was white chocolate, because, you know, she LUUUUVs her white chocolate. That just left a permanent stabby cramp in her face. It reads: Yeah, go ahead. Ask me. Just Try. I am going to call my kids on the phone now while you all wait for your liver spots to turn up.

My kids went to forage for some snacks. One can only expect so much from teens in a phone store once they have pushed all the buttons, salivated over the Razors and dicked around with the Trios. They got us three cups of Pretzel Time pretzels and 3 sodas. They came back about 15 years after they left, which was about 10 more years before we got to talk with Janice of the Perpetual Snit. We couldn't eat in the store, cause, you know, that just is not a good idea (unless it is white chocolate, then, Janice totally approves). So they took turns guarding it outside the store while I watched Janice pick her teeth, man handle some boxes (oour phones, our phones were in those boxes) then she pushed some paper around and waited until the veins in my neck were just about to pop before she called out: "Julia!"

Um, I have been standing in front of you for about 15 years now, give or take, and my drivers license is right in front of you with my name, and ah, eyah, that's me.

In the meantime, as my bloodsugar was rocketing down like a shuttle with a fubar O-ring, my kids wandered away from our victuals.

And, when we turned away....they were GONE.

12 bux of American Wheat Flour and sugar water were heisted. Double damn.

But, we got the new phones.

On the way home I I made myself laugh hysterically thinking about sending Janice a picture from my new camera phone....of my naked ass.

Oh, what a day.

Shameless Plug

2006-07-25T06:53:00.000-07:00

So, Dan and I designed a new logo for the foundation that we are starting up. The paperwork is in process, and we are currently writing grants left and right. It is amazing how things progress when you really put faith into it. With the momentum that is building we should be able to get support/funding/sponsorship for the rides scheduled for 2007, namely both sides of the continent of the US of A. England is beckoning again by phone for more PR and perhaps another trip. We are awaiting Her Majesty The Queen to don her gay apparel ( bike shorts) and get that arse up on a tandem er sumpin, in order that we may better serve the amputees of the UK. I told her we would pack arnica tablets. I know how hell-bent on homeopathics she is. Heck, I even told her Chuck could come, too. But, I think he is busy milking his organic cows in the hinterlands of Scotland. He is boring anyway. And, I cannot fathom him on a bike.

Anyway, the website is getting boosted up on a daily basis. Dan rises around 4 am because his brain is on fire, and the smoke keeps me awake. He settles down to the computer and futzes with html and pixels until it is time for work. Then he goes off and makes legs for people. Really cool legs. Some have computers in them. No keyboards, though, just widgets that make people walk again.

It looks like I am going to Oxford, England in October, as part of the foundation, to support Dan as a keynote speaker at a scientific convention. Never been to England.
Perhaps then I shall stop by for tea with Her Majesty and check out her bike.

Morning Acoutrements...

2006-07-25T06:05:00.000-07:00

I love making tea. I especially love making Lapsang Souchong. The smokey quality of it brings me right back to my childhood, when I would sip tea with my dad by the fire in the winter, eating popcorn, playing backgammon.

I love the ceremony of tea, even moreso than that of coffee. While I get high on the fumes of high test caffeine coffee, the brewing and pouring through the silver strainer, a gift from my mother, always bring me cheer. The little ceramic pitcher holds exactly one Julia sized cup. Making tea for myself reminds me to pamper Julia, to do nice things for her.

And, while I adore my Starbux mug, I adore it even more when it has tea in it. Something rather anti big business about that combination. A small kick in the ass, sure, but every little push against the Big Guy by virtue of supporting the Little Guy is a giant step ahead, in my book.

By the by, go visit Virtuous Teas at www.virtuousteas.com.

And look over at www.amplesanity.com for a very pleasant read whilst you sip your brew.

A talk was had...

2006-07-24T06:28:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, as I wandered about the mucky woods, I felt a pain in my toe. My big toe. My "honker" toe. I thought it was just some neurological thing; an overuse sort of thing. A complaint of sorts. I spoke with the toe. I told it how much I appreciated it. You know, I had already conversed with the poison-ivy, thanking it and telling it I was just passing through... (and, no itchies today!).

Upon returning home, a warm water wash with Bronner's peppermint soap and a foot massage in thanks was had. I was bestowing upon les pieds much amour. I walked a little lop-sided, avoiding the toe. It really *did* work hard in those wet and dank and smooshy woods. The toe? She was mad. She made me know that by issuing forth a pain. Like stepping on a tack, it was. Ow. I took off my sandals and rubbed the foot, the toe, the grief, she was palpable.

This morning as I examined my sandals to see if they were dry I noticed something.

A huge thorn stuck in my sandal. Yep. Right. Under. The Honker. Toe.

D'oh!

Well, I figure the toe liked all that conversation anyway. And, jeeze, the peppermint soap and lotion was downright debauchery.

The feets, they are smiling. The toe? She is happy.

Misty Morning Wanderings

2006-07-24T06:19:00.000-07:00

I followed a path I'd not taken before. I negotiate with poison-ivy, talking to it, thanking it for doing it's poison-y best, and telling it I was just passing through. My shutter click disturbed many frogs, jumping into the algae green safety with loud "Dune" sounds. I saw a huge blue heron approach and land into the swamp. I went off track, off trail and smooshed though mud and climbed over dead trees to get closer to the water.

I had an amazing day.

Floating Above it All...

2006-07-18T06:42:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was an extremely difficult day. Parenting teens is like 24 hour labor with no delivery in sight. Today, I rest above it all, opening my petals gently to the sun. I am tired. But it seems the storms have passed, for a while anyway. I am grateful for the colors and shapes that are gifted to me this day.

Cover Me...

2006-07-14T10:37:00.001-07:00

I rather like the idea of parasols. I like the crinkle sound they make as you open them, the pleats so neat and tidy, the fancy designs and the sheer width of their coverage. Being a pale face I burn easily, and often wish that I had a parasol on hand. They are large though, and not easy to carry about, unless, of course, you are in a canoe, which I am not, most times. I think of strolling the Winterthur Gardens, or Kew Gardens, lazily admiring the iris and peonies, mint julep in hand. It is hot today, and muggy, and I am inside waiting for a new refrigerator. Air Conditioning is lovely and I am fortunate to have it. It keeps me sane.

But, if I could change things for today, I would be wandering around a garden in the sun, on a much cooler day, looking at lovely plants, or being paddled about a pond by a Beloved in a canoe.
Yes, that would suffice, just fine.

Bathing in a Cup of Kindness...

2006-06-30T06:40:00.000-07:00

Several people I know have met some cruel destiny of late. My friend with MS fell down 14 stairs to the basement floor. My elderly friend broke her hip and pelvis. My neighbor, a 7 yr. old, got bitten by a german shepard. Another friend's father passed away last week. Dan had a serious bicycle accident just a while ago.

This morning as the sun bounced off of my coffee cup, I sat in thought and gratitude that I have my kindess to offer these people, that I have been spared the ill winds of gravity and the mandibular force of Fate biting my ass.

I have loving people around me who consistently hold me up to the light, so that I may do that for others in return.

Today, I will go bury my extra pennies in the sand at the park for some young one to discover with glee.

What are you going to do today to Pay it Forward?

There is Nothing so loud as the Quiet after the Noise...

2006-06-25T05:13:00.000-07:00

The dull quality of the rainy days causes my pupils to dilate excessively. Thus, when color first reappears, it feels huge in nature,immense in substance. So, too, with sound. For us sensitive folk, the Life Noise of people and animals and things is a constant din, reverberating in the cochlear chambers, stimulating the mind. With love, as well, the quiet after the storm is palpable, thick and almost foamy.

“Bad things happen to Good people” and that includes poor choices in love, work, play. And when the spindle drops, and the thread runs out the silence is deafening, only the heartbeat and fluctuating breath to mark cadence.

Sit in the quiet. Inquire Within. Take a back seat and listen to the Nothingness, the Om that undulates throughout all.

Don't worry, the noise and color will be back soon enough. Then you can medicate yourself with the abstraction and distraction again, only to find yourself at this threshold of the Gentle and Quiet Void again someday, to listen anew.

Streaming...

2006-06-24T14:43:00.000-07:00

Apple orchards...

2006-06-24T14:41:00.000-07:00

Faith

2006-06-24T14:17:00.000-07:00

Someone, somewhere has lost their Faith. Like an ice cube, it melted, slowly perhaps. Or like a tumble out of an open window it fell, a victim of the gravity of some situation. Faith can be a stronghold, a strong cup of coffee, a strong arm to hold you. Or, it can be the evidence of it's own demise. When does one actually lose one's Faith? Faith in Love. Faith in Hope. Faith in Goodness. And how is it that it falls with a feather to the gutter amongst the gravel and dirt?

I have been there, in the gutter of hope, wrestling with my own demons of wanting to be right, and moreso, wanting others to believe I am right. My faith in myself dwindled to a trickle, once a stream. I have reclaimed that force again and again. With one great gust the feather takes flight and soars again.

If a God does not hold you in his arms, nor a father nor a lover, nor any corporeal entity you can still find that Faith even in the deepest darkness of twisted vines and crushing stone. If you cannot find it alone, ask another, one who has that light, to share it with you. It will grow to cover you both.

Broken...

2006-06-14T12:40:00.000-07:00

Help?!

2006-06-02T15:08:00.001-07:00

Just off the phone with Dan. He left Paul to forge ahead towards Glasgow, where he has a motivational talk planned. 12 miles out of Inverness he met up with some other cyclists who gave him some really bad information and directions (see he ditched a lot of maps cause Paul had them). They sent him in the direction of Aberdeen. As he was coasting downhill he figured something was wrong...and ended up going village to village looking for a place to stay until he decided to bag it and head BACK 30 miles uphill to Inverness. When he got there he had to decide. He had to choose to go the extra 20 miles, to put him back on schedule, without food, water and shelter or head back 7 miles. He headed back 7 miles for food and water. (smart one!)

He needs to get to Glasgow by Monday, and he is behind now.

Here is the situation:

He needs to get rid of some weight on his bike. He has been sending things home to lighten his load, as the 80 plus pounds and the hills and wind is untenable. He wants to send his new front panniers ($100plus) home, but he has to wait to get to the post office which will open later than he wants and puts him behind schedule....plus it will cost him about $50.00 to ship them home.

Is there anyone out there who is willing to sponsor him by paying to ship home his panniers?

Please contact me ASAP if you are, so we can get him back on the road.

Thanks!

Julia
978-725-8979
firespiral@comcast.net

"I don't get no Respect!"

2006-05-26T05:02:00.000-07:00

5/24/06 01:05 pm

http://www.kramerfineart.com/images/fullsize/ripley2.jpg (sorta like mine)
I drove a hour today to have an etching appraised. It was a hunting etching signed my Ripley ( yeah, you don't know or care who that is, right?). But, here is the important part. In doing some research on said print I found that similar prints were worth about 2K. Yep. Two thousand smackeroos. Hmmmm, thought I. Let's just go see whats what.

The man I spoke with was pudgy and had thick warm hands that smelled of aftershave. The monogram on his crisp egyptian cotton pocket clearly told me, as did his carriage, that he was of noble ilk. If that didn't suffice for evidence, the collection of prints on his wall did just fine. We chatted up for a while about art, about my family (from whence said print came) and travel. Down to business, we took a looksie at this print.

First and foremost, the print had been cut. The edges had been sliced off, leaving only a 1 inch border around the print, not the requisite 2 inch border of collectible stature. C'est merdre. Oh. Pooh. That right there cut the $2,200 pricey taggy in half. This had been done quite a while ago, as the…and I *get* this part…MASKING TAPE (!!!!!) which was lined along the edge remained. Stubbornly, I might add. Kach-ing! Let's just take off another $300.00 or so, eh, just fer kicks?

Okay, granted I am an artist, and I *do* matting and framing for a living. I knows me some stuff about acid free paper, tapes and glue, oh My! But, someone who did not know that much had taken this print to a frame shop and THEY did the job. Hacks!

I don't understand how someone “in the bizineess” could be so sloppy and careless about a valuable piece of art.

Pudgy and I bantered and bartered and he went off to discuss this with his wife. The net-net is that I now have $650.00 more in my pocket than I had before, which is good. And, in all honesty, I was not so very attached to the spendy amount I hoped it would garner. And, I learned a lot from this guy. So, iz gooot.

But, damn, people! Take good care of your art. Really now.

Sheesh, masking tape…*waddles off muttering*

Ah, Baloney!

2006-05-18T15:21:00.000-07:00

Originally uploaded by Firespiral Arts.

Dan goes bouldering

2006-05-18T15:18:00.000-07:00

Originally uploaded by Firespiral Arts.

You get knocked down by life sometimes. Sometimes, life rips a leg right off you as if you were a mere spider creeping along the wall. You *can* heal. You *can* Live Large. You *can* face your fears and challenges and arrive at a high place above the rushing waters of change. If you need someone to talk to about this, just let me know. I'll set you up with Dan, who will set you up with a beer and a good long talk about the absence of limitations.

Winter 1

2006-03-09T04:53:00.000-08:00

Winter 1
Originally uploaded by Firespiral Arts.

Something in the way the light moves across the wet ice sings to me. The concept of life being partially frozen with waking, moving water surrounding has so many layers. Capturing the beads of sun, the shimmers of light on the water, the curl of the leaf, the buoyant bubbles, I find glee in snapping the shutter.

Ice Songs

2006-02-28T14:08:00.000-08:00

Ice Songs
Originally uploaded by Firespiral Arts.

Children shuffled rocks along the surface, skimming over the raised circles, frozen ripples. The high pitched moans and chirps echoed through the woods, and light danced upon the shiny surface. Another frozen winter moment of beauty.

Sacrement of Waiting

2006-02-28T10:47:00.000-08:00

Sacrement of Waiting
Originally uploaded by Firespiral Arts.

It takes a quiet patience, this Sacrement of Waiting time. Trees are waiting in wind and cold. Mothers wait, swelling and anticipating. Lovers wait for the strum of the heart song to catch in their breath, joy streaming. Friends wait, for the reach of others in common thought and feeling. Ice waits, preparing to thaw, or fall.

This stillness
buzzes
with
"Alive"
in hushed tones
spherical and round.

What are you waiting for?

Poignant, and True...

2005-12-02T08:10:00.000-08:00