Art Food Soul

off to my first Squam today…

…don’t get the blues. Bullshit. For this wild woman anyway. Because I am a wild woman, I get the blues. Always have. This revelation hit me this morning on my walk to the beach with Bob. For the first time I realized, hey the blues ain’t so bad. There a good thing for me as I prefer myself in my wild state.

We’re fortunate when we get a chance to make our last goodbyes. My father and some of his brothers (there were 6 boys in all) flew out to Washington state a few years ago to say good-bye to Uncle Tom, the second-born and the first to go. Uncle Joe, the first born went a couple of years later with no warning.

With Uncle George, a year and a half younger than my dad, we all know it’s coming. Don’t get me wrong, I do believe in miracles, but I’ve been this good-bye route with lots of praying before, and the reality is, the good-byes did come at those times. I’m not complaining. It’s just got me to thinking how sad it must be for my father to be flying down to Florida today to give his brother what most likely will be a last farewell. Sad as it is, it is also something that when we do get the opportunity to do it, is a blessing.

Speaking of goodbyes, I’m not quite sure I’m ready to say good-bye yet to this blog, but for several months now I just haven’t had it in me to write here. The thoughts have been there, but they just ain’t makin’ it down to my fingers and onto a page. But, like I said, I do believe in miracles 😉

Playing with digital photos, it’s occurred to me how much fun it is to find a focus and crop out the rest of the picture — or, as with our lives, the rest of the story. Although I have to admit, good and bad, I want all of the story much as parts of it may pain me. It keeps me whole. Of course, I can blithely write this on a day when all is right with my world.

I have a bunch of old and new friends coming over for our inaugural group adventure — creating a women’s circle, something I’ve envisioned for at least two years, perhaps longer. And now it’s finally here, after many fits and starts. Can’t wait — it is so difficult to come by community in the real world these days, let alone a virtual one. So today, I leave you with the rest of the Abbey picture. There will be other days for contemplation again but today is not one of them for me.

Playing with my photos from Ireland — snipping bits of

by now you must know i’m crazy about rocks and ruins…

Bird on the peak of the abbey ruins in Timoleaugue — two of my favorite bits of nature — rock and feathers…earth and sky…grounded and infinite…earthbound and celestial…mmmm….yeah…

Ground Hog Day. Imbolc. Candlemas. An appropriate day to peek out from my slumber here. Not sure if I’ll resurrect this blog or not — I’ve been writing  at our other blog, but I do miss having a place that’s just for me. Toying with the idea of creating a new one. But for now, this is it.

Strained my shoulder at work a couple of weeks ago, and after the initial grumpiness have settled in to enjoying my time creatively — lots of dabbling — in the kitchen, my studio, outdoors, in books. Kinda trying to get a rhythm going, something akin to the seasons and the natural world. I have an old book I picked up who knows where by Jean Hersey called The Shape of a Year, and I am following along with that each month. Also, checked out Edith Holden’s The Country Diary of an Edwardian Lady, 1906: a facsimile reproduction of a naturalist’s diary to peruse.

I tend to love out-of-print books — was reading Rumer Godden’s memoirs and such a couple of winters ago. Trying to limit my computer use again because it does end up sucking up time and then I berate myself for not being more productive (e.g., creative).

So, this time of year I’m allowing myself to go within, contemplate, consider, shed some stuff and reclaim some of my dormant goddess energy. Books and the kitchen really seem to be my thing lately. And spirituality, in particular my native or Celtic spirituality which parallels so many others — in symbols, herbs, animism, drumming and so on. Kind of cool when I make all the connections. Connecting. that’s what it’s all about for me.

** tree from one of my Glandore wanders — a sacred symbol in Celtic traditions

as i read up on imbolc in my druid’s herbal before moving on to barbara walker’s encyclopedia of women’s myths and secrets…i am enjoying revisiting the goddess and my celtic spirituality recently — i’ve been ignoring it for quite a few years…trying to pay attention to the rhythm of the seasons and the natural world…i love how my native celtic religion shares so much of the native religions of others…if religion is the word…got the candles lit and hoping to put together a bouquet of tansy, iris, violets, bay laurel, heather and basil (if i can find any — otherwise just some heather and basil will have to do)…if i were in ireland i would be picking rushes to make a st brigid’s cross — figuring out what i can use here…

Pixie’s letting go of her beloved dog last year was how I wanted to let go of  Joe. But it was not to be. In time I envision a ceremony that will bring my family peace. The one word everyone who knew him uses to describe him is “character.” That he was.