Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Monday, September 26, 2005
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!
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 Where whatever rules there were are superceded by other rules to the point where we realize there is no master equation, no set of rules for every situation.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 lightning of love flashes the brilliance of being.
Our dance of grace and our ethic of care.
Hold these close, like twin heartbeats, and may you flourish all your days...
Monday, September 19, 2005
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
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
Monday, September 12, 2005
The hexagram of transition: between shells, when the inner soft fleshy essential core has outgrown its shell and discards it for another, this moment of vulnerability. The exploration of path here is in the movement between. Where it is uncertain, where everything is uncertain, where even tomorrow is a mystery that may bring shelter or abandonment to the forces of chaos. It is a place where nothing can be counted on, that is as fragile as a sleep when you don't know if you will awaken again or not. When the flow of the external world is unstable and appears as a dream, a series of unreal images, a projection on a screen that surely will be over soon so that you can go home and sleep in your own bed again. For a recluse to be thrown into a world of dependency on others, to be stripped of what is familiar: loved and well-worn furniture, a life gathered over the years in books, paintings, décor, knick knacks, mementos, clothes, of a home filled with the security of the gracefully collected, of the comforts of the known, stripped of what to withdraw to, is to be shorn of a warm mantle that is like a shawl, shorn of the weavings of a life…
Buddha quote from Southland's site
Thursday, September 08, 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
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
in the communion cup
New Orleans became.
Of storm water
debris of ruin and bodies
excrement and chemicals
and the 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.
The shock and horror
of being black, racial minorities
poor, destitute, suffering
in the windless silence,
the swirling storm
not even a memory in the clear sky.
And the deaf posturing of the high priests
A city underwater.
A city drowning
in the sins of a country.
A city of death, swollen with
disease, fetid, slow evacuation.
America, take this chalice
of holy flooded water,
remember how monstrous
you have become,
NY Times: "A disaster of Biblical proportions..."
Globe and Mail: The Flagging Empire
Women's e News article on Rape Victims; Charmaine Neville's video on the horror of the rape and killing, abandonment by the administration, and survival: Survivor's Story