The Vanishing Point where Stillness Bellows

  First there was a quiet that was deafening. My heart was washed of all the years of torment and bitterness, in an afternoon. Just gone. Daily anger, frustration, strife, vexation. Poof. And what remained echoed in its shiny cleanness. For a couple of days, that roared in my head, or maybe hummed. My thoughts…

Roaring Quiet of an Open Space

  How incredibly odd. My mind is still. I have been in constant conflict for so long, I don’t know what to do with a settled, contentedness. I will learn. For so long, there was always at the back of my mind a battle raging. There was so much love, and yet so much disappointment…

The Sustenance of the Psyche

My father told me when I was young that “Thoughts untangle themselves when they cross our lips or pencil tips.” We develop as humans when we discuss ideas with others, or when we wrestle them out on paper. When we are in dialogue – either with others or internally – we learn and grow and…

Mystics Hear Voices

Mystics hear voices. the question “Do you hear voices?” is used to sort the sane from the insane. And yet, as artists, we do hear voices and most insistently when we seek the guidance for our art. We are led. We are prompted. We are urged. We are called. ~ Julia Cameron, from The Complete…

Big, Giant Love and the Theatrics and Science to Make it Happen

  Yesterday, after completing Tax Season, and being home again, I was able to finally put into place our new Eat Art feature. Ben and I figured it out on one of our recent walks. We decided on the following schedule for feeding ourselves a rich diet of Art. Monday – Murals Tuesday – The…

The Soundtrack of our Lives

  This morning I woke up with a song in my head, and it’s a good one. It’s the one I blast in my car on the way to Poetry Slam. It’s the one I sing along to and throw little girl-power dance parties to in the parking lot outside the pizza place where the…

Soul Candy

  As artists living with the drone of commerce, we have forgotten that “rest” is a musical term, and that to hear the music of our lives as something other than a propulsive drumbeat, driving us forward as the war drums drove men into bloody battle, we may need to rest. The ego hates to…

Such a Golden, Ruffled Dreamworld; Such a Blue, Blue Sea!

It was a Poet-Philosopher’s Dream – to watch Life of Pi tonight with my family. To watch the beautiful interpretation of delving into oneself to learn about the great unknowns, the enormous out there, the big questions, the tiger, the vegetarian, the sea and the sky and the storm and the quiet. Oh, such a…