Showing posts from September, 2005

Three Angels...?

Without fig leaves should I post this? He's one of my sketches from the lifedrawing session, coloured, and copied onto himself so that there are three of him. I'm calling this drawing, "Three Angels." Who knows what you'll make of this, Blogging buddies...

Angst over my website...

Angst over my website...

I've spent the greater part of the weekend, between looking for crucial housing and employment, on my website. If you have a moment, please take a look. I've renamed it: Celestial Dancers & Divine Mothers.

I've redone the Bliss Queen page - even a blurb by our dearly beloved Pru: thanks honey!

And am now finally offering a Birth Poster, a collected edition of all my birth paintings.

Since I found a painting of mine listed at a Russian art reproduction site, I felt I had to label the birth poster with "SAMPLE." Does this work? Is it passably okay?

And then today I just created "browser button" paintings to navigate the 4 pages. Does it work?

How we feel about our babies, huh. This sure is a baby of mine.

Any feedback will be much appreciated! Thanks!

Accidents in the Unfolding of Our Lives...

In the unfathomableness of what happens to us as we live our lives, the places where we are so profoundly jolted we can barely understand what the forward momentum should be if we are to remain free of, or minimize, such profoundly unsettling events. Do we cause what happens to us? Sometimes. Perhaps not often enough.

Rather life seems not a rational venture of cause and effect so much as a negotiation through ever-new territory. Where whatever rules there were are superceded by other rules to the point where we realize there is no master equation, no set of rules for every situation.

There is only our dance through it all, and our compassion.

Our grace and our ethic.

Can these simple rudders serve where entire holy books fall charred on battlefields of misunderstanding, judgment, bloodshed, death?

An ethic of responsibility and a heart of compassion aren't rules but ways of conducting ourselves, in tune with the tao, a flow of pure energy, transducers, bolts through which the lightnin…

The Male Model in the Lifedrawing Session...

Last night I went to a drop-in Life Drawing session at the Toronto School of Art. Now how often do we get male models? Yeah, oh baby. Yeah, they've been photoshopped to greater or lesser degrees. They're viewable. Click on the thumbnails for larger versions. Only one is mostly done; the others I am in the process of colouring...

The Great Bliss Queen's Mansion of Flaming Bliss

The Great Bliss Queen's Mansion of Flaming Bliss is a poem I wrote about one of the founders of Tibetan Buddhism, a historical woman, Yeshe Tsogyal, an 8th c. Queen of Tibet who became a Buddha - The Great Bliss Queen Dakini, a Divine Mother in the tradition of Kuan Yin and Green and White Tara. I read it at an ARM (Association for Research on Mothering) conference at York University in Toronto,"Mothering and Spirituality" in 2003.

I offer a hand-drawn tracing in ink on parchment paper or Japanese art paper on commission, as can be seen in the upper image of this poster, where she is hung over silk fabric and framed in a mantle of Indian silk scarves. The painting at the bottom of the poster is for sale. See my website for details.

To hear the love poem, click on this link:The Great Bliss Queen's Mansion of Flaming Bliss

You cannot travel the path until you have become the path itself...

The Buddha says: “You cannot travel the path until you have become the path itself.” The path is uncertain. Uncertainty is the guiding force. Nothing can be projected, counted on, leaned against. Home isn't the stable habitat one returns to again and again, the familiar space that holds one’s transformations through the years, remaining more-or-less the same: every day cleaning the same kitchen, washing the dishes, some with light scratches and chips, mopping the taupe tile floor, its tiny cracks, polishing the picture window that look out on the same view, except the trees have grown taller with the passing years. Home for those without a home is what you carry with you, your essence, your inner alter, your ability to love and be stable amidst change. This is what she is about to discover. How to enact continuity without a home, when home is someone else's space, filled with the accoutrements of another's living: when one borrows the necessities for living: a bed, a chair…

Transubstantiation: Katrina, 2005

I apologize for the bleakness of this poem..
Transubstantiation: Katrina, 2005

When the storm hurricanes
blowing a city apart
then impasses breached
when the inland river flows over
containing levees
and brings the flooding ocean back
and death rises
against the attics of redemption
against the attics of wood and tile and tar
where last breaths, last rites
before drowning
in the communion cup
New Orleans became.

Of storm water
debris of ruin and bodies
excrement and chemicals
and the wailing
loss, wailing
in the diminishing wind.

Twenty thousand in the Superdome
stranded, the unescaped
awaiting welfare checks
that were washed away.
Carnage of a city,
so much death.

The Holy Communion of New Orleans,
what the fundamentalist
chose to ignore,
in the richest country in the world.
People starving, senseless dying.
Freedom of all citizens to
inalienable rights, stripped;
democracy nailed on a cross
broken floating on flood waters.

without help.

The shock and horror
of being black, racial minoritie…