these are EveryWhere. All Over. they get walked on, are so inconsequential , because of their ordinaryness, their everywhere ness a small weed flower, yellow, kind of dandeline like, just less than the size of a dime, so many, you don't Pay Attention…. but if you
stop
and squat down
look
there's This.
….begin to dissolve
this.
THIS.
from Jude's blog Her Love in the Mist. LOOK….just LOOK. How so totally stunningly incredibly amazingly designed, this Life Form, this blossom of a
plant
LOOOOOOOOOK. i think of Lacelady's comment the other day…meeting life palms Open….
and just Look. What a perfect illustration for my incessant Urge to write about what i see and feel . something i feel/see and i want to tell/show you I want you to feel/see it too. With me.
that photograph of the Bear and the Salmon on Margery's Trickster's Hoard that i go look at every day
and
Via Erica Heilman Rumblestrip VT.com GO LISTEN Bianca Giaever Constellation Prize type in search
believer.net/constellation-prize/ There are 4 episodes. Nightwalks
her and Terry Tempest Williams for those of you who love TTW, you will love her so so much even more….MO…..
and THEN…..there is even a THEN, i somehow found Terry Tempest Williams and Lee Martin Why I Write just google that
and there was a bronze taupe SKINK under the Doe Goats water bucket. 7 or 8 inches long. Fast and oh so Beuaty Full
this morning i thought about wanting to find a therapy group
for old women who always wanted to become something. An artist, a writer. A formal Student of the Universe
and never did.
old women who DID become mothers, grandmothers and then, if lucky, great grandmothers. While still harboring the urge. and so, never quite giving their all. just their some.
reconcile
MONDAY, June 5
i love all the responses. I wish we could be EveryThing, right? To become a therapy group we would need to be Real time and that's something beyond my reach. We would also need a facilitator. We would need to ask the Universe for that. Maybe even someone "out there" who reads? and Could? Who knows. But in the meantime, what is the bottom line. If you want to be a writer, you WRITE. if you want to be an artist, you MAKE ART.
so…maybe just a Shift. We'll see. I met Marti LOOOONG ago when we joined Story Circle Network. I'm trying to remember how that went. I am understanding that sometimes comments are just lost and sometimes those are heartfelt and long and the loss is a bummer. So…just to say, in the moment, if there is something anyone wants to offer Us here and it's
long
you could email and i would post it…..?????? i would be honored
i LOVE you All. US.
One of the songs Emrie's kindergarden sang at graduation was My Name is You. if you type it in to You Tube…Sesame Street
We All Sing the Same Song
typepad does not allow me to put pics….ok……
but it was an EVENT! Ms. Johnson….i cannot say enough about Ms. Johnson. There they were, the raw mateial given to her and they Sang and had learned to snap their fingers and do hola hoop and so so so much more. The kids. i took a zillion of pics of them on the risers, if double clicked, their faces , display of Interior Them, i wanted to show you that over and over and i love looking at them over and over and i took pics of the audience gathered in the cafeteria, all manner of humanity, just so exceedingly Beauty FULL over the brim, there to celebrate their children who had made their way through Kindergarden to the other side.
bless Us All
what i thought i wanted to say turns out to be not at all what i want to say and it's too LATE to let the saying flow of Its Own Accord
so. Just the pic for today. India Flint. recognizable anywhere. India Flint. bumped into this pic in the Archives. 13 years ago i was found by her work. Her magic. The incredible Beauty. Tomorrow, then.
TUESDAY…the tomorrow referred to above, and i was gone all day, came back with my head full of the world. So I want to just keep this here again. I can't quite "touch" what i want to.
One More Time WEDNESDAY. 13 years. Finding Spirit Cloth, Jude Hill and through her, India Flint. Finding OUTSIDE of me, things of my Self, familiars. In the case of Spirit Cloth, SEEing. India Flint, FEELing. and so…those 13 years. In looking to see where i am this year, what i find is the thing of Diorama which goes back to my childhood, to the creek, the Michigan woods. Diorama…not as other but as Self. and self not In, but self OF.
India Flint's books. Eco Colour Second Skin
there is no Spirit Cloth book. i wish there was. to hold in my hands, carry. not an image on a screen, but a page. paper.
the Soaproot. Moths will come. I love imagining this, Moths fluttering in the Garden in the Dark of Night.
pounding Tposts along that last stretch of rim along the steep hill of the creek that had
remained unfenced…no need because of Tay. No Tay, so now, need.
Kids learn independent play. double click
