Silvermoonfrog

New Toy...

2012-02-06T20:20:00.000-08:00

Ok, so I got an iPhone a few weeks ago, and then yesterday I finally figured out how to put a cool photo app on it. So far I had only enjoyed the much nicer ring tones than my old 6 year old phone (that was dying) and the calendar that synchs to my laptop (very cool and very useful, considering my budding new career). Now I can take fun photos! And it's a square format, that I have missed so much since borrowing Heinz's Hasselblad while at SI. Here are some of the first shots... Enjoy!

(see if you can find the full moon in the image below)

(full moon)

(full moon)

Also, in the last several days, I have watched a group of 5 soaring sandhill cranes circle overhead five times - making their way up to warmer, faster air, found 5 shark's teeth in a local creek, gone to a party where I didn't know a single person there on arriving, yet met some cool peeps and had some great conversations, I received the best massage ever, have breathed deeply, have given chair massage to some really interesting folks at the hospital, and to some caring teachers at a preschool (some of whom came crying because since they were being surprised they thought they were in trouble) - oh, yeah, was licked by a lemur - and today, before the beautiful full moon came into view, a passing swallowtail butterfly, fluttering by, peed on my lip. I think things are shifting...

Dancing the Shadow

2012-01-30T16:04:00.001-08:00

I was in a bit of a funk for a few days. It happens sometimes. And it just is what it is - not something to get hung up on or feel bad about, but something to notice, feel, give a little attention to and simply let it be. Yesterday morning, when a lot of folks were at church, I went to the park, where a crystal clear creek runs. On my last visit I had scoped out just the perfect tree to sit in, that hangs over the creek - so I am suspended in the tree, over the water, under the owls and other tree- and sky-dwelling creatures. It was a beautiful day, and just as I had hoped, I got there at the right time to have the sun shine on me while I was in the tree. It was very quiet, the only noise that stood out was the call of a hawk in the near distance. It is hard to be in a funk while at perfect peace, sitting in such a spot.

Afterward, I continued on to the coffee shop to read over some dreams from the last year and see if I could find some threads that stood out. While there, I got a phone call from a dear friend with some bad news about his health. Pretty devastating news, actually. I was speechless, and sad, and in my mind was looking for the right words to say, the right thoughts, something useful. Shit.

Any funk of mine was history, and now I was in a wholly different space. A space of expansion. The expansion that happens when our Oneness is at hand. When it is viscerally evident that we are all the same, all One, all part of the same whole. I feel it as if it were my own news - is it mine, this disease? I was muttering to myself all the way home on my bike. And when I got home I was very quiet and peaceful, feeling the expansiveness of the Oneness in a different way.

I noticed the light in the back yard - sun slanted low in the late winter afternoon. What was illuminated was a vine in a late stage of life, yellowed and yet still vibrant and alive.

And I noticed the shadow of the vine and tree, seemingly interacting with them. The tree and vine dancing with their shadows, or really vice versa. Later in the evening, still in the haze of the news from my friend, some words came in response to the images.

It is light that defines us
shadow refines us
solidity is only an illusion
we can only see our shadow
from our delusion of self
our true Self contains us
while the ego just claims us
as different, as separate, as whole
our Oneness becomes us
as we see the wholeness
that mostly eludes us
when we look as from loneness
we’ll continue this dance
with our shadows
as long as we walk in the light
and just as we dream
in the nights in between
it’s ours to keep our life bright

My dear friend is a hearty soul. I know that however his journey continues, he will meet its path wholeheartedly and steadfastly, as always, and because of this, I know he will keep whole and bright.

Oh, and if you look closely at the second photo, to the right - in the midst of the shadow - there is a door.

Your Table Awaits!

2011-12-30T06:00:00.002-08:00

I have been very busy this last week working at the Helping Hands Chiropractic Center here in Gainesville and with a few massages over in Crescent Beach. And I'm looking forward to getting my own practice up and running.

Please call or email today to book an appointment for yourself or a loved one!

My massage work is tailored to the needs of each client, drawing from a foundation of:
~Neuromuscular Therapy
~Connective Tissue Therapy
~Swedish Massage
~Polarity Therapy
~Sports Massage
~Hydrotherapy
~Reiki

I offer my total presence and awareness to clients, creating a safe environment where their own awareness can be further opened to enhance healing and invite balance and ease of movement.

If you are feeling any of the following, you will benefit from massage:
~Restriction of movement
~Pain or discomfort in your body
~Trouble sleeping
~Postural imbalance
~Stiffness or soreness
~Injury or stress
~The need to slow down and relax

Benefits often include:
~Greater ease of movement
~Increased range of motion
~Relief of pain and stress
~Relaxation
~Improved Sleep
~Enhanced feeling of well-being

I invite you to create an opportunity for stillness to occur, in which to recognize and restore balance in your own body, mind and spirit. Call or email me today and let’s find a time to get started! Be sure to inquire about my package discounts and gift certificates.

Happy New Year to you! May you find many blessings and much peaceful transformation in the coming year!

2011-12-14T08:43:00.001-08:00

It’s been quite a while since I’ve posted here. Life has been full. I have completed the program at Florida School of Massage and am now a licensed massage therapist. I have moved once again, this time into town and a really sweet little house that couldn’t be more perfect - very peaceful even though it’s right in town, with a great big lovely back yard for the cats (and me), and the perfect treatment room for clients. I am looking forward to doing some good work here, along with other work in the community.

It’s strange to have gone so long without posting any art or musings - almost a year, really. I am thinking a lot, for some reason, on the Cumberland Island time of magic last February, and maybe that is reminding me to reserve a spot for this next February to explore some more. Maybe it’s pointing me back to the magic and the energy for making art again. I feel closer and closer, now, and there is space in my new home for art making, too.

In the meantime, there is much to do to cultivate this new career in healing arts, and finding ways to integrate all the various art in my life. I am happy to think that all of these skills and interests seem to feed each other - each honing the other in some subtle way. I love that the meditative artwork I had been doing was all the while teaching me how to be a more clear conduit for - well, for whatever it is that moves through us as we create. For this is much the same stuff as must be present in the healing arts. The same stillness, presence and awareness are required for good work in massage. It is so essential to be present and able to listen and somehow receive direction about what is needed in any given moment - listening to the breath, the tissue, the subtle visual or energetic cues that can happen - the rhythms of the body. What an amazing dance it all is. What a wonderful opportunity to learn more each day, each moment, each time contact is made or broken or sustained.

I am continuing with dreamwork, too, and looking forward to starting a new small group here in my home, for sharing and growing with dreams.
 I did do a handful of small mandala-like drawings during my time here in FL this year, so I will post a few here.

Living at the edges of time...

2011-08-08T18:32:00.000-07:00

Last Spring/Summer, I was getting the feeling that the layers/dimensions of time/s were compressing and I was sensing a bleedthrough happening more and more. Lately, though, I have progressed from my feelings about dimensions/time-space frames bleeding through and compressing, to them approaching integration into only one time-space continuum. This is what the shift is all about. Then end of separate dimensions/layers of time and the beginning of the ONE CONSCIOUSNESS as an integrated whole. I am more and more aware of soul groups gathering in a more organized fashion - I find myself more and more readily with folks I resonate to and so I think about cymatics and how as the Earth’s vibration rises, of course we reorganize into more complex and beautiful arrangements. Of course we find our way to those we’ve shared lifetimes with (or more accurately, are always sharing with them). Perhaps, more realistically, they are actually pieces and parts of US. As the layers converge, we will integrate into our original ONE. One self. And ultimately, perhaps, one consciousness that is comprised by us ALL. Of course then I think it can’t matter that we gravitate toward a select few - for we all still comprise the whole. But then no, I remember we are but parts of the whole, and so of course those of us who are the liver are together, those who are the feet are together and so on. We are still one body. We must still find our design and fit our roles together. Complete the circuit, the circle, repolarize. Only when we are ready to act as one will we complete this unification. What can make us do this? What can make us ready to act as ONE?????

Forgot to mention...

2011-06-20T03:56:00.000-07:00

I started working on a new website: silvermoonfrog.moonfruit.com

Been a while

2011-06-19T18:58:00.000-07:00

Sorry it's been such a while since my last post. It's been a rich, deep time, but very busy. I moved a couple of times since the last post, so it felt weird to put a new post up after the last one, and of course school has kept me very busy and focused. What a wonderful place/time/experience all around. Much natural beauty, wonderful new people, awareness/consciousness-based learning of a whole new set of skills and ideas, shared by some really lovely teachers and practitioners.

Home is now at the back of an old horse farm, right by the stables. Nice and rustic, once again just like home in so many ways. I can hear the horses and look out past century oaks with swaying moss and palm trees over horse and cow pastures. It's quiet at night and Sundew curiously awaits the armadillo's circling of the bunkhouse each night around 11pm. Sometimes the Sandhill Cranes trumpet me awake, though it seems many have left for the season.

It's late and I'm not going to write a whole lot just now, but just making a post to say I'm still here, still learning and growing and taking in the worlds. Still dreaming (even found just the right, small local dream group to share with) and thinking in pictures...

New Digs...

2011-04-22T15:05:00.000-07:00

Well, I finally moved to my new digs. In walking distance from school and very convenient. All the comforts of home (i.e. as rustic as my place) with the added pleasure of beautiful view including grazing goats. This place has the same quality of peacefulness that the barn studio had, where I painted all those strange landscapes. Just like there, all I want to do is sit quietly and gaze out the window. I don't even want to put on music - just like at the barn. Here, though, the spanish moss waves gently in the breeze (though I hear this town is the hottest place on earth in summer and I'm sure to find out what it's like without the breeze).

Anyway, just wanted to give you an image to hold in your mind when you wonder where I am. I'm looking forward to hearing/seeing the Sandhill Cranes again in the morning, and to exploring the 21,000 acre nature/wildlife preserve at the edge of this property. You can see it in the photo - it's the opening behind the field where the goats are.

(these are the view from the window, scent of billygoat in the breeze)

Oh, and one sunset image from my last evening at the beach.

I love how life rhymes...

2011-04-10T17:07:00.000-07:00

According to my favorite author on the topic of Dreams and Dreaming, Robert Moss, life rhymes. I have noticed this, too, for some time now, and have had a run on these rhymes this last week. First, I went to the local thrift store here in St. Augustine. Although I normally live in GA (my parents and brother live here, and right now I’m spending some time here before going over to Gainesville for massage school soon) it’s the only place I’ve shopped for clothes in several years now. They always have just what I need, and the price is right - $2 per item of clothing. I say I have a great benefactor there, because there are always some items that fit me just right and are my favorite colors. Last week I went in with my mom - we were passing that way and didn’t really need anything, but stopped anyway. I picked up a pair of jeans that looked just my size and a couple of other items and tried them on. The jeans were just the right fit, and basically brand new. I paid my two bucks for them (gladly supporting a local charity) and took them home. When I removed them from the bag and looked at them in better light, I saw the inside of the waist band. Then I knew that of course these jeans were waiting there just for me.

A few days later, I was with my sister, who just got a great new job, so was going shopping for a few things she needed for traveling. She took me into this gigantic shoe warehouse, where there are literally thousands of shoes in one big open space. She’s getting a great salary at her new job, so she said if I found a pair I liked, she’d get ‘em for me. So I wandered around and looked at all manner of shoes - even the dark red patent leather spike heels I’d been wearing in that morning’s dream. After a while I found some Merrills that were very comfortable (I was looking for something good for standing a lot at school) and attractive enough. They fit well and I decided they were the ones for me. Then I looked at the box and saw the item name. SUNDEW. My youngest cat’s name, whom I had just collected from GA the week before. Of course out of thousands of shoes, I picked this one.

Today I was walking out on the deck to go downstairs for something and I looked down only to see the male twin of my cat Honeybear. And of course here she is, looking down at him, too. I doubt they’ll be friends, but there seems to be an extra magnetism here, nonetheless.

I love the way life rhymes. How does your life rhyme?

Magic

2011-02-09T15:38:00.000-08:00

Those of you I email with are familiar with my long and always growing stack of signatures at the bottom of my outgoing mails. Last week, I lucked into an opportunity to spend some time on Cumberland Island, a barrier island off the coast of south Georgia. It is a fairly wild place, though inhabited by some private property owners, an inn and a national park, along with hosting a wilderness area which happens to include an estate with more than a hundred rooms (if I recall clearly, more than 300, according to the ranger). I was camping on the south end of the island, though, away from many of the private properties.

It was to be a solo journey and some deep solitude time, in the midst of whatever winter weather would come. I packed as much as I thought I needed, then unpacked until it was manageable - minus a tarp and some clothes. Just the basics was quite a lot. I had to borrow some camping gear from friends, as I pretty much have a tent and bag and that's it. Having arrived in time for breakfast at the Cedar Oak before boarding the ferry at St. Mary's, I made it smoothly onto the ferry and then the island. There was heavy rain during the ferry ride, in which I scrambled to the bow on deck to put a bag over as much of my stuff as I could get in there. The rain had at least mostly subsided by the time we were disembarked.

‎"Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate."
— Carl Gustav Jung

My campsite was pretty wonderful, if wet, and right up next to the dune on the ocean side of the island. Giant live oaks reached up and across the site - #13 - the most popular, apparently. The first night was rainy and cold, and much of my stuff got wet, so the next morning, I considered the ferry and either going home or down to FL to see family, since they were so close.

Isn't there always a struggle like this when we go out past the edge of things? The formless urge to flee something that we know, just beneath our conscious awareness, holds promise. The discomfort that tests our resolve, when we don't even know what we've signed up for. I had nothing but good feelings and a feeling of rightness about taking this short trip. It materialized out of nowhere, the morning after I had had a strong urge to wander and keep on going as I was driving home from work. Then it had all gone pretty smoothly. Yet here I was, considering that maybe it wasn't to be so - that I could go home or to see family or... But none of those other options held any energy for me. I didn't really want to go home, even if it was dry and I could warm up the house. I didn't really want to go to Florida and see family at this time when I was off on a solitary exploration.

"Myth is the social dream and dream is the individual myth. By following your dreams you can discover the realm dynamics of your life course, your life intention, and your life impulse." -- Joseph Campbell

I decided to stay at least until late afternoon - there was a 4:45 ferry. If the weather were dreadful, I could decide then. For now I would explore just a bit and then regroup. And so I headed north, up the Parallel trail (so named because it sort of parallels the north-south road on the island) to scout the area. Not far up the trail, though, I decided I might as well wander up to a place called Stafford, that was to be a little more than 3 miles away. I didn't have food or water with me because I had only left for a short meander, but I figured I'd be back by lunch anyway.

The live oaks were gloriously beautiful, branching out in all directions and reaching to the sky in unison. Somewhere along the trail a couple miles in, I was admiring a great, ancient tree, and when I looked back to the path ahead and caught sight of a small coyote, swiftly stepping off the trail. He looked to be on a mission. Not long after that, I must have startled some big deer, as there was very loud snorting and blowing on the other side of the palmettos to my left. I paused to see what it was, but did not get a visual. Closer to 3 miles on up the trail, I took a break to sit on a log and rest my legs. After a time, several vultures flew overhead quietly - probably 8 or 10 of them. They were big and gracefully drifting. Then there appeared a bigger and more beautiful bird - old and raggedy but regal - a large hawk, I guessed, or a sea eagle of some kind - light colored, mottled and rough. As she flew over, I heard a whistle call from somewhere behind me - maybe her youngster calling.

“Observe the wonders as they occur around you. Don't claim them. Feel the artistry moving through and be silent.” -- Jalal ad-Din Rumi

Then it was time to continue north - surely only another mile to Stafford - I had passed a sign that said 1.1 mile to Stafford awhile back - seemed like much more than a mile back. After continuing yet another long stretch, through piney woods (where the smell of tobacco smoke lingered in the air, although there was no one in the area), I was back under some great oaks again, and getting pretty tired out. I was beginning to think Stafford must have been off one of these other roads I had crossed (which now I learn was true). It was time to turn back south.

"The more I work, the more I see things differently, that is, everything gains in grandeur every day, becomes more and more unknown, more and more beautiful. The closer I come, the grander it is, the more remote it is."
-- Giacometti

A ways back down the trail, I was beckoned by some magical light, where a great old live oak reached down almost to the ground and a golden light encircled her. There was a glow just beyond her boughs. So I walked over to her and took some photos from under the canopy, then walked out into the light to see from across the threshold. O'Donohue was right, the beauty always exists at the threshold. No wonder I have always loved the edges of things and places and people. From the other side, the scene did not express the same beauty. As I turned back toward the trail and fumbled forward, I was startled by something too round and smooth, just in front of my feet. It was like when you see a snake in the woods - your body responds before your mind does, in a visceral way. You know it's not just ground before you. This was no snake, though. It was smooth and greenish white and knobby and rich in texture at its base. it was a beautifully patinated three point stag horn. It was as if I'd been magically rewarded for letting the beauty at the threshold of light call me away from the trail. It was literally just before my feet when I saw it.

During the time I was in the woods, tunes entered my mind - not familiar tunes, but just tunes that fell into me - and I hummed or whistled them, to honor them and give them life. Most were simple. One seemed to be a spiritual, as I imagine slaves might have sung. I do not remember them, nor do I feel I should. They seemed to exist in the places/times, and maybe they exist only in and for those places/times - as part of the place. In retrospect, it seems most times I carried these songs, they led me to things - the beauty at the thresholds, special trees - most notably the deer antlers and magical light. I guess if I think about it, I have always been most comfortable following game trails - probably mostly deer trails

Continuing down the trail a ways, I was for the second time inspired and engaged by the soft light green moss sponges covering the ground in this one particular area. I hadn't photographed them on the first pass because I couldn't see a good way to frame them, but this time they wouldn't take no for an answer and called me further into the woods, away from the trail. So I walked deeper into the woods where the light called me. No sooner had I made some photographs then my gaze fell on another stag horn - this one a two point (was this last year's from the same stag?). I realized then I had thought to myself maybe I would find another, but I surely didn't expect to. Finding the first one was a moment of magic, pure and true. The patina, the light, the in-my-path-ness, the weight and texture - such a deep, rich gift. Now there were two.

Back on the trail again, this time I go off trail to pay homage to some special oaks. One has a low limb, just above the ground, reaching out 30-40 feet from the main trunk, and is gracious enough to allow me a rest on it. There was a hook in the limb such that there was a dip where my butt could go and legs and back would rise. I sat a spell and rested peacefully, just above the ground. When I looked up and into the distance, I saw another one. Another stag's horn, maybe 60 feet away from where I rested on this gracious oak. I asked myself if I should take yet another one - was I being greedy? I decided that since I had not been looking for any of these, I was meant to find them and taking them was ok. A third one. Wow. This one had only one point. Maybe his first one - maybe the same deer. Wow.

"I am at home in all that is. I am home to all that is."

Back on the trail yet again, feeling tired and knowing there is still much trail to cover, I continue south. After a while, I see another patch of mosses that ask to be noticed, and I walk over to see if I can frame it nicely. I walk around to the other side of the shrub next to it to shoot through, but don't see a shot. So I turn to go on through the woods and explore a bit more before returning to the trail. I glance into the woods and see a small circular area that is sandy, surrounded by a ring of young pine trees, saplings, and light is falling on this circle of sand, illuminating the four point horn of the stag. As if put there for some sacred ceremony, this stag horn is resting just next to the center of this circular sand stage, surrounded by a ring of pine saplings in the midst of a forest of ancient live oaks.

I spent some time in the circle and looked at the growing collection of antlers. One, two, three, four points. Having set out not looking for anything at all, I was getting richer and richer and was beginning to wonder what this journey was really about. What is the stag telling me? The first one was a response to my stopping to photograph the beauty at the threshold. Actually they all appeared where I was called by beauty. Called in the same way I am always called in the woods. "Listen to the call," they told me. "You are near the path of the others, but not on it" they pointed out. The backcountry campers were passing on the trail nearby, as I sat in the circle with the antlers.

"There are unknown forces in nature; when we give ourselves wholly to her, without reserve, she lends them to us; she shows us these forms, which our watching eyes do not see, which our intelligence does not understand or suspect." -- Auguste Rodin

Once up, I was called deeper into the woods by a couple of ancient, regal live oaks - partners in the forest. As I approached them, my eyes fell upon one last horn, smaller than the rest, and the only one that had been chewed on a bit. FIVE antlers now. FIVE. I set them all down to go visit the trees. Near each tree was a small white conch shell, and so on each tree I placed one of the matching shells, in view of each other, like wedding bands - or a mirror. I wondered what just these two shells were doing there, deep in the woods. Perfect, unbroken, matching conch shells, clean and white. One for each tree. Perhaps someone before me had decorated the trees with them and they'd fallen. I thought to myself on the way back down the trail, "what will someone think when they see me with all these antlers?" And wondered what I would say. Maybe I'd say, "I can be stubborn" or "sometimes I need to be hit over the head to get a message" or "sometimes I miss the point and need reassurance." Having had these thoughts, I realized how they all related back to the deer and the antlers. Hmmmm.... What else do these stags tell me?

"The thing is to stalk your calling in a certain skilled and supple way, to locate the most tender and live spot and plug into that pulse. This is yielding, not fighting."
- Annie Dillard

When I got back to Sea Camp, I ran into a lady from the large group who had come over on the ferry with me. Many people in that group looked very familiar to me, in a way I have come to understand as a future familiarity - meaning people I will know in the future from when I first see them and recognize this. I mentioned finding some antlers on my hike. After a while, I was in my tent, writing some of this in order to capture it while it was fresh in my mind, and I heard some women out walking past my site. One said, "oh, there are the antlers - she told me about finding them. I want to go look at them." Another lady responded, "you can't just go into her campsite and look at her stuff" to which I said from in the tent, "It's alright, I don't mind" and we all laughed. One of these ladies had been out on the dunes and seen a stag, and snapped a photo of him. Wonderful. These folks invited me to dinner the next two nights, and I much enjoyed sitting around a great big campfire with twenty something lovely, lively, interesting individuals, ranging in age from less than a year to sixty something - some of them engineers, a judge, a contractor - many of them had camped near here at Black Rock Mountain. They camp together every year on Cumberland and I guess other places, too. I was inspired by their camaraderie, deep friendship, family bonds and traditions. They have been doing this for a long time.

I went out on a solo journey to the wilderness, fully expecting a deep and maybe mysterious time alone, and because I was not longing for the company of others, I was embraced by family.

My last day on the island, I sat back in the great live oak tree that serves as the gateway to the beach. The boardwalk to the beach is actually built right over one of his branches. And he looks much like an upside down octopus, only with more than eight limbs. As I reclined on one of these, I extended a warm embrace to this tree with all my soul. As I felt myself giving embrace to the tree, I then felt the embrace of the ALL, embracing ourself - one and all. As I embrace the tree, it is I and all embracing the tree and so I see that I am embracing the all I have enlisted in embracing the tree. Whether we feel it or think it, we are always all connected in this great web of life. Like trees in a forest, that seem distinct, we are connected by spirit and energy - just as the trees are connected by soil and spirit and energy.

"We have no idea how far the ripples will travel when we throw goodness into the waters..."

On this island, I felt connected to the family of man, the family of trees, the family of deer, the family of armadillos, turkeys, horses, hawks, vultures, coyotes and all the other creatures I didn't encounter this time.

Mitakuye Oyasin.

We are all related.

"The present moment is significant not as the bridge between past and future, but by reason of its contents, contents which can fill our emptiness and become ours, if we are capable of receiving them." - Dag Hammarskjold, in Markings

This is Barbara's photo of the stag on the dune. (thanks Barbara!)

The quotes throughout this post are most of the signatures I have on the end of my outgoing emails. Some I have carried with me for years, some I have found recently, and some are my own. Somehow, when I went to make this post, they wanted to join in, and it feels good and right that they have.

Trees Being Fire

2011-01-23T05:24:00.000-08:00

When I first got up this morning there were pastel pink clouds streaking the muted lavender/blue sky. It was a very peaceful feeling light, though felt like it spoke of snow. Just a little while later, I glanced out the window to see that the trees were on fire. I think it's strange that the last photo I posted on this blog a week or so ago was entitled "trees dancing fire." Now I was at a loss as to what to call these. Trees being fire, I guess. Unfortunately the color doesn't transmit so well over blogger.

More snow drawings...

2011-01-13T07:52:00.000-08:00

Went for a walk yesterday down the road a bit. Enjoyed being inspired once again by subtle drawings in the snow. Some I didn't capture, but always love, were the gentle scrapings made by grasses and the marks left by birds' wings as they took to flight. The drawings I captured are contrasts of shadows and stems.

trees dancing fire

The place where I walked runs along the edge of a forest service prescribed burn. The trees there called to me - all dead from the fire and then being poisoned with an herbicide called clopyralid. They seemed to dance under the beautiful blue sky, with soft clouds passing behind them. Still, begging the questions raised by widespread use of poisons on our public lands and into their composting matter and running waters. We must take responsibility for our part in this strange dance and its consequences. We must begin to dance with the trees, the waters, the earth in her many elements. We must (as we do) share the burdens we have thrust upon her - and we must do so more and more CONSCIOUSLY. As we raise our consciousness in this, healing will occur. May it be so.

More snow...

2011-01-10T20:01:00.001-08:00

Well, more quiet time in the cabin, listening to soft freezing rain and watching snowflakes drift down from above. I've managed to keep the cabin pretty warm and the cats are sleeping a lot, up in the warm loft. Wish I could tell you I've been painting or doing something creative, but really have just been enjoying the silence, reading a bit, watching the birds. Here are a few snapshots from just before dusk. I took some video of Sundew in the snow, but haven't put it into the computer yet. Maybe tomorrow.

It's been a strange week, what with birds falling from the sky in so many places and dead fishes washing ashore on various continents and other events I won't name. We really must become clear about how we and the earth are like mirrors for each other. If we have a high cancer rate, it is reflected in our being a cancer upon the earth. Something tells me that if we start treating the earth as our bodies - and our bodies as the earth - we can somehow turn it all around. Can we do this? Can we care for ourselves (and each other) fully? Can we care for our planet fully? None of this is easy. It's so much easier to go the easy route. But that's actually a lie. It's so much easier to do what's needed. But there's only one way to find out the truth in that statement. And to find this way, we must find the truth of what's really needed and act upon it.

Snowy Christmas

2010-12-27T08:51:00.000-08:00

Well, it's been an unusual white Christmas here in northeast Georgia. It made for a really special holiday, along with time spent with good friends and good food, too. I hope everyone's holiday has been special in some essential way/s. Here are a few snapshots of mine. Now on to the next and last holiday of the year. What will the next year, the next decade bring...?

Happy Holidays

2010-12-13T11:26:00.000-08:00

From a quiet wintery wonderland...

As I sit watching this, I am reminded of some dear friends I would to send it to, but they have moved on this year. I would like to dedicate this to James R. Olson and Linda Keller - two bright lights watching over now. I carry them in my heart.

Dreams and Distillations

2010-12-08T06:38:00.000-08:00

I have updated my book on blurb so that it contains the information that was on the dust flaps. Now if you order a soft cover copy, it will have all this on the inside. If you order now and use the code FESTIVE, you can get free shipping on up to 3 books. I hear the book makes a great gift, so share art for the holidays if you are so inspired. I hope the holidays are treating you well. Down here in Georgia, we're certainly having some holiday appropriate COLD weather...

Dreams and Distillations by Honor Woodard | Make Your Own Book

Sending Forth...

2010-11-26T09:00:00.001-08:00

I had a dream yesterday morning - Thanksgiving morning - in which a woman approached me seeking wisdom. Here is what I shared with her. I am happy that I remembered this dream, as it is obviously information that is beneficial to me, and maybe you will find it useful as well. I hope so...

November 25, 2010 Thanksgiving
...I tell her about projecting love forward. That if we project our love out in front of us - forward - that there can be no failure, no disappointment, nothing other than joy or success or satisfaction and connection. No matter what happens, if what we project is love, is our essence, our soul in its divine radiant purity, there is nothing but good that can come from this. There can then be no fear, no scarcity, no lack, no loss. There will always be love, no matter what, because it is what we are putting out in front of ourselves. While I am explaining this, I am seeing a bright white light with indigo edges, projecting forth from my heart, extending several feet in front of me. Sort of like a small lightning burst that is continuous in flow...

A River of Words & Images

2010-11-21T08:14:00.001-08:00

Please join us this Friday, if you're in the neighborhood..
You'll still be full from Thanksgiving leftovers, and some lively poetry and a float down our "River of Words & Images" will be just the thing to keep you inspired through the weekend!

Change of scenery...

2010-11-07T04:43:00.000-08:00

I'm not sure why, but it seems that each time I come down to St. Augustine, I somehow bring the cool air of the mountains with me. I am told it was very warm right up until the evening I arrived, and that it will get back up to 80 degrees, oh, on Wednesday, which is the day I had scheduled to drive home. The drive down was really nice this time, with dramatic skies just about all the way, a beautiful sunset over rivers and marshes as I was between Savannah and Jacksonville and some rain on the last stretch with some good thunder and lightning.

Anyway - good thing I'm really here to help with the restaurant some, rather than to get a tan. Cool or not, it's been sunny and beautiful and a bit breezy. It's been nice to spend some time with family and niece and nephews continue to grow and grow interesting. I loved going to Mauro's soccer game and watching all the kids cluster on the field and kick the ball at each other and sometimes into the goals.

Last night was an oyster roast at Genung's Fish Camp, and today Stephen is participating in the "Chowder Debate," where St. Augustinians will see how good his Minorcan Chowder really is!

Progress...

2010-11-03T16:31:00.000-07:00

I drove up to Sylva today to collect my work from the show - this Summer's work - and bring some of it home. Sometimes when I take a show down I get a heavy heart. It's sometimes hard to make new work when recent work is still around. And then there is the period of gestation that is a necessary part of this artist's process. So much of the process is internal and interactive with the world. Taking in ideas, images, places, people, silence, ocean, river, rock... and then having something inside that pushes to be embodied in object or word. Today, while driving, I was inspired by the late fall color as I drove over the hills and mountains. Even the kudzu had turned to a splotchy gold and green. Some words came out of this...

COLLECTING THE WORK OF THE SUMMER

Rolling over the hills from Franklin
up toward Dillsboro and on to Sylva,
rusty golden Tulip Poplar, fading yellow American Sycamore
cadmium yellow Hickory, burnt at the edges -
all glowing like short flames
dancing their last breath
over dying embers.
Smoldering ruddy reds
gather above muted green laurels,
and down below, scraggly
ghosts of Hemlock strain to stand,
trunks and limbs giving last life
to moss and lichen.
All go to rest now -
some to wake in Spring,
some to sink to the floor,
soak in next season’s snowfall,
melt into dark soil and forget
only to remember what it’s like
to be a wildflower,
see things from a different vantage
point upwards, facing their grandchildren.

Patterns...

2010-11-02T17:43:00.000-07:00

Patterns in nature always intrigue me - from the bark on a tree to the strange synchronicities we experience in our dreaming and waking lives. Lately I have been having a recurring theme in my dreams about clothes - needing to wear certain clothes for certain situations. Now I am looking at these photographs of magnolia, rhododendron and sassafrass leaves I took a couple weeks ago - their patterns seem to mimic, among other things, highways and byways and the subdivisions between them. And at the same time they are the garments the trees are shedding as we pass from warmer to cooler, from active to more subdued time of year. Looking closely at the patterns within the sassafrass leaves, I am drawn into their spaces and shapes and am inclined to blow them up and print them out and put them around me. There is fluidity in the pattern here, as if there is a progression and order within it, and as if I might see movement in here if I continue looking - one of the white dots in a green area might march into the next quadrant and talk to another white dot in a red or yellow area, maybe tell it that the time has come to shift to the next hue...

In the flow...

2010-10-29T13:34:00.001-07:00

It's been too long since I've posted here. Sorry for the gap, or mind the gap as they say... So much has been going on. The show up in Sylva, which was so very lovely with the nicest group of folks... the reading/show and tell down in Atlanta with Laurence, also really special... then a couple of unexpected trips back down to Atl to see His Holiness the Dalai Lama... and then some out of town company at home for a minute... then it was off toward Highlands, NC for a workshop with Janisse Ray incorporating a wonderful event at the Bascom Center, to unveil a painting the Wilderness Society commissioned from artist, Robert Johnson, where Janisse and Brent and Thomas presented also. And of course my wheels haven't stopped even after all that with other points along the road I had to get to this week.

WHEW.......

I am ready to be still and absorb the good vibrations of all these glorious fall colors, though the wind last night moved a bunch of it around and it's getting cooler as I type.

I am still processing the experiences of last week, and so won't write about it here for now, except to say that I feel really lucky to have been able to do all that, and I send gratitude to Doug and Pat and Cyndi and Marcella and Adam for helping me get to a couple of these things. The mysterious void continues to support me in the directions that feel right, and this is golden.

In the meantime, here are a few images from last week that I took closer to home in one of my favorite swimming spots (no, not this time of year...). Enjoy!

Holden and Woodard Art & Poetry Show and Tell

2010-10-14T18:16:00.000-07:00

Those of you in Atlanta, please come out to Sycamore Place Gallery in Decatur this Friday night from 7-9pm for some wonderful poetry and art with Laurence and me. Laurence's poems just get richer and deeper and we'd like to take you into our landscapes and down our rivers.

Here is a sample of Laurence's poetry and art:

LESSON #1: HOW TO LISTEN TO A BIRD SING

Take off all
your clothed and
clammy thoughts.

Sit awhile.

Make nothing up
between the intervals of silence,
but listen to them.

Between each breath
is a song you’ve forgotten,
is always calling us
to gather to this wild
and shocking world.

This music happens to us
before we can ever think about it

this song happens in us
before we can ever say it’s impossible

to listen before we speak
of nothing or everything.

-Laurence Holden, 3/09

Also, I will have some copies of the Les Aretes Editions Broadsides available at this event.

Please join us at Sycamore Place Gallery in Decatur, located at at 120 Sycamore Place, at the intersection of Commerce Drive, by Fellini's Restaurant. The gallery consists of gallery space, courtyard, children's work area, a kiln, and thirteen working artist studios. More info on the right side, under News and Events...

Published in France (and a (very) few copies available here)

2010-10-14T07:51:00.000-07:00

This summer I enjoyed collaborating with poet and author Thomas Rain Crowe on a small broadside published by Les Aretes Editions in France. I used some of my new photography works as a backdrop for Thomas' poem, "May It Continue," which is a call to acknowledge many fragile elements of our world and a plea to their continued existence. Sandrine at Les Aretes Editions made a fine little broadside, complete with outer covering. Take a look at her blog. Thanks, Thomas, for inviting me to do this collaboration with you, and thanks Sandrine for making such a beautiful publication! When I have a little more time, I will snap a photo of the broadside and add it here.... I have a very limited number of collectible copies - let me know if you wish to purchase one.

Thank you to Brent, Thomas, Riverblaze and all who attended the show in Sylva

2010-10-07T07:39:00.000-07:00

Last Friday's show in Sylva at The Wilderness Society was really lovely. There was a wonderful group of folks there, including some new fhttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifriends and some I hadn't seen in quite a while. The goodies from Riverblaze were delicious (as always) and the poetry was special. Big thanks to Thomas and Brent for sharing their poems and stories. I look forward to seeing Thomas' upcoming book and also another book that will be a collaboration between Thomas, Brent and Barbara Duncan. Thanks also to Brooks for helping me get the work up to Sylva. Good friends are golden. I will try to figure out how to put a video on here of one of Brent's poems.

Please click on Thomas and Brent to see (and buy!) some of their published books, and go to tws.org to join The Wilderness Society! And check out Riverblaze Bakery in Franklin, NC for your baked goods or catering needs...

Brent, reading his poem "Vapor Light":