Our Feminine Divine

12 Jan

The Feminine Divine

For all of us who feel a little lost, a lot frightened and afraid to come home to our own inner feminine…The metaphorical Divine Mother has all the patience and time in the world to love you, exactly as you are, every day, whether you know it or not. Whether you care or not.

Our adventurous, questing and brave Masculine Spirit, riding out into the material world will find its equal partner in our holy, receptive, sensual, delight-filled divine bodies – the container of our Soul; our Sacred Feminine, who has never been lost, just ignored at great cost.

Learning to trust, to come home, to have faith in the wisdom of our magnificent bodies is what all this return of the feminine is about. Feel your place, your center in the vessel that is you, the broken yet strong container that holds your life.

Our united inner masculine and feminine, our Spirit and our Soul, create the wholeness, the Holy, the healing taking place quietly, within each of us. Listen to your body. Dance quietly in your living room. Be present to the tremendous energy that surrounds you. As your Spirit has been seeking you from the outside, now your Soul calls to you from deep inside.

Have courage and faith in your Self. Relax into your body and allow your Soul to heal the terrible split in our minds and bodies. When we become one in ourselves we can feel the world as one radiant light emanating in a billion forms. You are loved. You are love. You are awakening from that 100 year princess beauty sleep. The Queen has arrived. Wipe the sleep from your eyes. She is you. She is us.

This is not mother-love I’m talking about. This is the Divine Mother taking up her rightful place in our inner world. Powerful, compassionate, giving because she is receptive- softening the hard places in us, breathing life into our desperate lives. Bring her flowers. Open your heart.

Sacred Marriage

4 Jan

mother divine sketch

Winter Solstice Meanderings. Exploring the feminine proclivity towards a holistic, simultaneous, synthetic and concrete view of the world. Essentially balancing the linear, sequential, reductionist and abstract way of the masculine worldview.

Neither is better. Like the ancient Taoist circle, taoist-integration-symmetry-symbolsymbol of symmetry and integration, both are equally present in creative tension.

We honor one over the other to our collective detriment.

How do we restore the life of our interior feminine?

This Sacred Marriage of our inner masculine and feminine, the Divinely arranged marriage, happens every day, every moment, all across the world.  Individually we find our way, men and women, over long distances, at great cost, to finally arrive at this Sacrament, conscious and aware. We greet our Beloved Opposite; Our Self, with surprised, delighted, joyful re-cognition. We feel the almost unimaginable impossibility of our separation. And we discover that our finding each other was actually, appallingly, the easier part of our journey. The difficult, unaccustomed, awkwardness of holding our precious union as we walk back into our polarized world is our overwhelming challenge.

How do we re-integrate with a world that is still desperately, addictively searching for…something? How can we say ‘Here, see – this is it!’ when we have no new light around us, no fancy words, no marketing technique that will translate? When we have seen the beauty of who we are, and yet feel that something hasn’t quite caught up, that part of me is still working hard at becoming who I am – lagging behind, fearful of change, untrusting. Pissed at myself that I still search, addictively, for that thing out there, that magic pill that will make me whole. My habitually dis-eased body a direct manifestation of my habitually dis-eased spirit. Shocker. I am uneasy with my inner masculine. He is uneasy with me.  We are re-learning the dance.

New Dance. Old partners, new steps. Practice. Over and over again. oh yes, two left feet.  We are now Lovers, the Sacred Two-in-One, Holy, learning to receive rather than consume, to love without controlling, to recognize the absoluteness of our interdependence. To celebrate, wonder at, and honor our differences. To truly see each other, and each in the other.  One step, one breath, one moment at a time.

 

Mother Divine Image

Thanking: Leonard Shlain, for the descriptions of the feminine and masculine worldviews. Many have postulated on this, I appreciate his word/image choices.

Bronze Age Moon

18 Oct

Bronze Age Moon

 

The Moon. The subtle guide of our nights, the soft glow of our inner light. Revered and worshipped from time out of mind. The Moon, the symbol of reflected light. Humans too are magnificent symbols of reflected light. Not our own light, but the eternal, vast, unending light of untold universes that does not depend on any sun for its fire. Understanding, recognizing this inward source of our own eternal light, we can delight in the question ‘Who am I?’ – knowing that we play a game -the only game that matters – the game of awakening to who we truly are. Once we have mastered the rules of this game, we find we must leave them behind, gratefully and lovingly discovering the absolute necessity and relevance they held for us. Ultimately we must walk free, untethered, unchained into our holy night – illumined  by the steady light of our soul, the reflection of that greater fire. Trusting, knowing, we find the game becomes: I am.  And life becomes about using everything you’ve got to reflect the Light of Lights, however you choose to conceive of That, or Him, or Her. There is no other game. Everything that lumbers across the stage of our life has meaning and relevance only as it relates to our deep connection to eternity and the degree to which we embody that here. Game on! May you be full, may you be bright, may you be a great light in the darkness.

Bronze Age Sun

18 Oct

Bronze Age Sun

The Sun. The bright light of our skies, the radiance of our inner fire. Celebrated and worshiped for as long as humans have walked the Earth. The Sun, the fire of our solar plexus; our power center; our will. The place where we feel that gut reaction, the space within that can answer the question ‘Who am I?’ The answer intensely personal, exclusively our own, always begging another question: – ‘Who do you want to be?’ The choice is ours, always. We may push this question outwards, expecting someone or something else to provide the answer, to make our choice for us. There will come a day, when no other answer than the one that thunders up from deep within your being will do. And you will know, beyond all shadow of doubt, who you are. And the trick- the real magic-  how to live this magnificence in the world- how to contain this fire without burning up, will slowly come, with many fits and starts, but gradually you will burn bright and steady. You will know. This is it. This is my life. I am.

The Wanderer

12 Oct

The Wanderer/ Janet Balboa

You are it. You are on your life’s journey. It doesn’t get any better than this- so make the most of it. Each day, each hour, each second, counts for all of eternity.  It’s not ‘out there’. It’s right here – in the relationship that you have with the smallest moments of your life. The glance you catch. The color of someone’s tie, the sunlight on water, the feel of your own skin.  When you stop and let yourself be struck dumb by the beauty of life as it is, you discover yourself immersed in it, supported by it and loved immeasurably. Your open heart guarantees moments of astonishment, bliss and wonder. These create a path where there is no path. And you may just find a life where there was previously a wasteland. 

On being an artist

22 Sep

Today is a lovely day to be in the studio. Some days are hard- nothing is flowing, questions of color and form are asked but not answered. Self-doubt and fear are easy companions. But not today. Today is dark out, rain and damp, but bright and joyful in spirit inside. I always light candles and burn incense when I work, and Pandora (radio) today; Brunch Café. George Ezra singing ‘Budapest’.

I met with a fellow artist this past week, and we lamented the crazy, alone, truly struggling with our work days and celebrated the bright sunny everything-is-working days. Both glad that we do not get depressed easily. Nice to know we are not alone in our work or in our practice.

It is nice to know that I belong to the sacred sisterhood and brotherhood of artists, writers, poets; The Creatives- that are leaving their beds, headed to their desks and easels, facing a day of creativity. Bringing something into the world, something new, something as yet unnamed. Bringing to life this image/idea they feel, rarely seeing it fully formed. Relying on talent, perseverance, trust and plain hard work. We do this for the love and necessity of bringing forth something new. Not for a boss, or a guaranteed paycheck, or status – but simply for the need to express whatever it is as it moves within us.

Not the hard work of the corporate world, or the hard work of day laborers, but the hard work of birthing. No mastermind group, strategic planning team or other such midwives sit waiting with me in these quiet hours. It’s me and my process. It unfolds with me, and often in spite of me. Decades of just showing up, have formed themselves into a practice, a discipline of sitting and just doing the work in front of me.

Don’t misunderstand, I am certainly not alone in this birthing. Besides the much sought after and unreliable Muse, I have my Crazymakers, who attend the bringing forth of my creative child. Boredom, self-doubt, irritation, excitement, interruption, anger, financial worry, incredible joy, intense pleasure, pride – often fall over each other in the sheer hope of getting my attention. The Discipline of Showing Up has had the benefit of informing these clowns that I am the master of my attention – all these feelings still show up, but they kind of sit quietly off to the side of me as I work and discuss things amongst themselves. Their bickering and murmuring is nicely covered up by Brunch Cafe today.

I’m not whining. I wouldn’t choose any other way of life, although I denied myself the right of being an artist for many years, for many truly stupid but hard to overcome limitations. Our society doesn’t approve much of artists. We are barely tolerated when we live out of our studios or cars, venerated when we are ‘successful’ and worthy of being seen. Kids are still discouraged from being an ‘artist’. I get it. But maybe the ‘Civilians’ as one of my friends calls her non-artist friends, are the ones who don’t get it. Maybe they don’t get the inner pressure that builds, the ideas that form, the visions that just don’t go away, demanding expression. They don’t get the years spent refining this internal and external dialogue that happens between you -and whatever that ‘other’ is. They don’t understand the crack high of an idea that comes out, thru you, that you as the proud parent get to see walk out into the big wide world with a life of its own bringing joy or understanding to a hurting world.

Of course these feelings aren’t just limited to artists. Entrepreneurs feel this, as does anyone that creates first and foremost for the love of the acts of pure creation and expression.  Yes, if you’re good and persistent and ready for it, the money will come. And the fame. But these are ego territory and can quickly cause the Muse to fly and the Crazymakers to flee.

The Artist’s Dance is to keep the Muse and the humility provided by the Crazymakers alive and well. Not the loudest voices in your head certainly, but they do provide a mastermind of sorts. The Muse provides inspiration and profound guidance, while the Crazies keep me grounded and well in touch with my humanity; the suffering and the joys of others. Balance. I try my best to be the master of my mind, making decisions based on all the guidance and terror dished up by the voices. (ok, no, I do not actually hear voices, that would freak me out.)

You know what I mean. I give this feeling a chance to be expressed and instead of going crazy from the irrationality of it, I stay with it and trust that the most basic act of all humanity, creativity, will take care of itself. I just give it space and time to be. So I sit alone, and yet profoundly not alone today, connected to all artists past and present, doing what we have always done- struggling to manifest the reality we see into shape and form. A noble calling. You have to be awfully brave to be an artist in this world today. Truly being in this world but not of it. Be true to yourself today. Let something move you. You are in good company. You can’t see us when we are struggling in the studio, but we are here. We got your back.

For my latest work- see my Tumblr

or my Instagram

Tree and Stone

8 Sep

Tree and Stone

For I have a message I would repeat to you,

a word of tree and a whisper of stone

the sighing of the heavens to the earth…

From the The Baal Cycle, 13th century BC.

We are separated from the land, and from our own nature. This is a choice. The truth is deep, unfathomable belonging. The truth is that we are the ancient, conscious, intelligent expressions of all- that- is. We belong. We are part of all creation. We are the song of humanity.

Image

The Green Man

6 Sep

The Green Man

Maeve’s Brooch

2 Sep

Maeve's Brooch

 

A Millstatt Face

1 Sep

Millsatt Face Day 9.  A Millstatt Face. Millstatt Abbey  is a former monastery in Millstatt, Austria. In this City of Mil, we find that  ancient Celtic beliefs were overlayed with Christian beliefs in 1070 AD, when the Benedictines took over. The city itself is named after the Celtic creation god, Mil, as it translates literally, ‘City of Mil.’ Well then. Locals believe that an ancient place of worship existed here as least as far back as Charlemagne, if not before. The town’s name certainly  implies that this holy place has pagan beginnings.  In a beautiful carving, typically stylized Celtic faces peer out from above the massive entryway. The scene over the door  shows

‘the sun, moon and stars watching Millstatt Monastery being given into the hands of Christ by its founder and are struck dumb (literally, they have no mouths) by this pious act.  Could this be an unconscious reference to the silencing of the ancient pagan beliefs?’  says Historic Impressions.

Now whether or not you’re pagan isn’t the point. Or at least not my point. I’m wondering if the face peering from behind the crescent moon has a right to speak? Is he not allowed a voice just because he comes from a different perspective? And I wonder about the many, many artists who have effectively allowed themselves to be silenced, not from fear of persecution, but by our modern day fears of self-doubt, insecurity and general unwillingness to accept and believe in our true worth. WHICH IS PRICELESS. So is it fair that we silence ourselves- or anyone, for that matter, because our opinions don’t reflect the status quo? Because we ‘don’t believe in ourselves’ anymore?’ Because we’re afraid to speak our truth?

We live in a time of incredible freedom – we pride ourselves on this very freedom. We say we value ‘mavericks’, ‘individuals’. Well? Standing up for what you believe and expressing it takes great courage, mastery and discipline. So does being an artist. Mavericks. Deviants. Bohemians. ARTISTS. Celebrate that creativity, use your freedom of expression. Be courageous. The world need artists, just as it always has needed court jesters. Truth needs to be expressed, one way or the other. Don’t be silenced by fear. Let your heart open and express your truth.

 

 

The Hobies

31 Aug

The Hobie

And here they are… Day 8. The Hobies. A mushroom, actually. My grandparents were always out Hobie hunting. I don’t ever remember seeing a mushroom- I think they just enjoyed the day off alone rambling around the countryside together. A happy relationship with your partner as you both grow older together is a precious gift, one that requires nurturing in order to encourage a second bloom late in life. The blooms are exquisite, the color magnificent and the aroma heavenly.  So my grandma said.

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