Sunday, April 25, 2010


Woke up this morning to a golden light creeping through the dark clouds.

Birdsong twinkling in trees all around me.

The air gentle and kind.

Colors soft and scents gentle.

I am grateful for this day.

Yoga this morning, slow with many deep breaths.

And I will roll around luxuriously in the rest of a gentle slow Sunday.

Work, yes, but slowly! Run, yes, but gently! Nap, yes--slowly, deliciously, while weighted down by a 15 pound warm purring kitten on my belly.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh, life is just fine.

I'm grateful.

Saturday, April 24, 2010



There is no title, no content, no pithy anything.

Is that ok?

Has to be.

'Cuz see, that's how it is.

Sunday, April 18, 2010


I am quite certain that music is the highest art.


Maybe it's just me, but music has the power from the first moment it bursts into my brain to pick me up and throw me around.

Sometimes it grabs me by my sex.

Sometimes my heart wants to burst.

Sometimes it takes my muscles for it's own.

And sometimes it crawls it's little tentacles into the deep reaches of my brain and massages places I hadn't known existed.

Often I feel it grow so big in me that I would happily burst my skin open if it wanted to get even bigger.

With extended immersion (having played a particular and fairly obscure african music for many years) it changed, utterly, the way my brain works.

It continues to be an absolute mystery how a string of sounds can have such powerful and various effects.

I don't know if others experience music like this, or if perhaps music is simply a pleasant sound for many.

I wonder.

Probably it is something different for every set of ears.

I'm grateful for it's power on me.

Saturday, April 10, 2010

musings on passion

I have been pondering a post in response to a comment made to me by one of my yoga teachers a week or so ago. As I was leaving the studio she asked me what I was planning to do for the weekend. I said "work, but it's just fine. I work all the time and I don't mind". She asked what I do, and I told her I am a self-employed artist. She sighed and said I was so lucky to be able to live my passion.


And that is so, so very different than what most people think about it. I believe WHAT I do is important for me in that it is what feels most resonant with my spirit at this time. It has brought me enormous challenges and suffering. It has brought me so much joy.

And everything in-between.

But is that living my passion?

I don't know.

I have now, and in the past, many things I love to do. Many things I feel passionate about.

I take great risks with my life to follow a commitment to live according to the resonance of my spirit, my soul, my being.

That comes at a great price. It's not luck.

And it has nothing (nothing!) to do with simply "doing what feels good!"

In my experience, living according to resonance with my "higher self" (or whatever one might call it) means working much harder for less "worldly" reward than if I were working in a more mainstream realm.

I pay a high price. I have chosen it my very own self. I have no retirement, no paid sick leave or vacations. No security whatsoever. I have to practice staying "in the flow" in order to make things that people want to buy. I don't convince them, I don't "market", I just make things and put them into the world. If people want them, they buy them. My "security" (such that it is) hangs on a thread every moment.

And I have no one to blame if I don't like my job. I cannot claim to be the victim of a bad boss, the victim of not being paid enough, the victim of not being valued.

Something about that feels very clean. There are no smoke or mirrors. No marketing illusions. No manipulation of other people's desires whatsoever.


And precarious.

I have NO idea if I have set myself up to be an old, broke and homeless woman.

I wish that weren't a fear.

But I keep choosing and learning to follow the little glimmers of resonance. I keep working on doing it better, with deeper integrity and more skill.

Passion? Yes, I guess it is. But it's also so much more than a word and the simple meaning usually associated with it.

I love it. But I don't necessarily love the "stuff" of it: hours sandblasting, days and days of repetitive work, stress of cash flow (flowing the Wrong Way), having my home be a factory, exhaustion, never completing the list of tasks...

So it's not about "getting to be an artist" in the sense of the daily tasks.

I think it's a mindset. An attitude. A commitment. And a choice to love the moments. To feel grateful.

I think perhaps I've chosen this life because I don't want to be asleep through my life--and this life I've chosen definitely compels me to be awake and deeply alive, or I won't survive in it.

These are all just musings.... I think I need to go for my run and clear all the words out of my head!

And there is still this (see? I told you there were a lot of words!):

This morning my assistant T. posted something on her blog in response to a comment someone made about her job. My comments are related to what I just wrote about above, so I decided to combine them into one post.

If you would, go read her post HERE.

And then my response to her post:

It is strange isn't it? I'll have to write a blog post about it from my perspective as well sometime. But I think it has something to do with the pervasive and habitual belief that it is only if one suffers can it be really called "work."

So often talking about one's job or work becomes a contest to convince the other about how much one suffers. That certainly bleeds over into the perceived reality, and soon is practiced enough so that suffering becomes the very definition of work. If you have the audacity to express enjoyment of your work, you will likely not be taken seriously because "if you are not suffering you are not really working." If you described it all couched in misery you would get more credibility I think.

But then I'd have to fire you.

Not because of you, but because it would infect me. And I have to keep MY mind as clearly focused on the positive and on gratitude as I am able. Otherwise, this ship would sink. In a heartbreak. (I meant to write "in a heartbeat, but heartbreak is probably more apt).

EVERYTHING we do here could be seen as tedious, uncomfortable, physically exhausting, frustrating, etc.

In some ways we can feel lucky that it comes with a title of making "art" so that we have a larger door through which we can walk into the realm of appreciation of all the little parts of it that bring us pleasure, even joy.

We believe that all the little things really count toward the whole, the outcome.

We have daily evidence of that.

Even (or especially?) for me, the "artist", the boss, there is SOOOO much WORK. I have often tried hard to get people to understand that, as they discount my own struggles and exhaustion by saying "well, you are getting to be an artist, so it doesn't count". I could talk about how hard I work, how many hours I spend doing things that are physically harsh, emotionally taxing, and require incredible discipline to keep doing them over and over and over and over...

But if I spend my time thinking that way, I'll start to believe it, and it will steal my joy.

I actually believe that everyone can decide where to focus their attention. To appreciate, to practice gratitude (and yes, I know it's a cliche, but that doesn't make it less powerful).

I think it IS easier in an environment of my own creation, because I can't pretend I am the victim here. No one is making me do all this work. I have no boss, no corporation to blame.

I made the choice, I take all the risks myself, it's all my responsibility, I have no safety net, and I have no one to blame. I'd better make the best of it all, and enjoy every bit I can!

I think it can be easier when one approaches it with the kind of appreciation for the little joys and glimmers, as you do, T. And I KNOW that attitude is worth protecting. Even if it means others will think your work doesn't really count.

Because it's every moment of every day that matter. We can live them with a focus on the discomfort, or on the joy. And what we choose to focus on becomes the reality we experience in each moment.

Ok. I guess I just wrote my blog post.
Longest comment you've ever gotten I bet!

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

packing day bliss

Packing and shipping days are the very most fun and exciting days for my big kitten.
Sometimes we can't find him.

Ahhh... there he is! (he stayed in there until we needed the rest of the packing peanuts. I just opened the bag from time to time to make sure he had enough air).

He has some rather kinky predilections:

Whatever floats your boat, is what I say...

Packing day is bliss for a certain big kitten.

(as always, click on a photo to make it bigger... and you will be able to better see why my floor is always covered in packing peanuts...)