Stage Life

Friendly people
with smiling faces
surrounded him
As he stepped out onto
the stage of his life
Guitar in hand
and a song in his heart
Life applauded abundantly…

Roots

My roots are deep
my body connected to the earth
deeper and deeper all the time
My heartbeat a reflection
of Mother’s steady rhythm
My spirit is one with all
infused with all the stuff
of the Universe, of Creation
My spark of epiphany
inspired by His creativity
And my heart encompasses all life
surrounded with Love
Monkey Fun

Monkey Fun

Monkey fun
in trees and out
Up the branch
and jiggly stem
Silly and free
we play with squirrels
and eat fruit
——–  ————  ————-

Oooh – banana

Oooh, oooh – banana!

Process…

Sensing the ruffled edge
of something far bigger than the ego
And suspecting that it bore witness
to even greater possibilities
He surrendered with a nod
to the flow of the process
as it unfolded
Miracles ensued…
Early Morning Joy

Early Morning Joy

When I was young I could sleep for hours and hours. I stayed up until wee hours of the morning, painting or reading, or just gazing at the moon. Then I could easily sleep until noon. The only way I ever saw the sunrise was by staying up until it arrived. I loved my time in the stillness of the night, when everyone else was sleeping. And I loved the luxurious quality of my welcoming bed when I passed out from exhaustion.

 My body does not fare well when I try to stay up too much later than 11pm anymore. I did a one year stint of  graveyard shift graphic design several years back that cured me of that ability. Ever since I recovered from that job, I am useless in the late evening.

On the other had, I don’t sleep like I used to when so much younger, either. A lot of times, I’ll wake up at 3-4 am with a sudden inspiration that just won’t shut up. I keep index cards and a pen by my bed so I can write those down, ease my mind, and hopefully go back to sleep. Many times, though, the index card trick will not suffice. So, I rise.

In the stillness of early morning, I once again find that delicious solitude that feeds my spirit longing. As I engage in whatever creative endeavor the muse has prodded me toward, joy wells up and I know deep peace once more. I love to greet the sun infused with this creative joy. And I am grateful I only need my own permission to take a nap.

The Beauty of Enough

I’m kind of a sloppy cook. I will only loosely follow a recipe, if I use one at all. When I prepare food I lean heavily on the help of the Muse. It is another art form with texture, color, smell and flavor being my palette. And, especially if it is a raw food concoction, I will allow my taste buds full rein as they pursue their creative urges.

That said, there is nothing like a simple meal of sliced apple and raw almond butter. No frills, nothing elaborate, still it fully satisfies the palate and the body. It is enough.

When I am creating with brush or pen, it is a process of joyous meditation. The lines and colors reveal themselves as I lean into the feeling of bliss. At the same time, it is a process of quiet discipline (even if the stereo is blasting and I am dancing through it), where every so often I pause, step back and check to see if it is enough.

There is a balance point. It is the artist’s journey to seek this pinnacle, and stop – at enough. Beyond it is too much. The beauty starts to fade as the paint becomes muddy. The mystery and grace can get lost in too much busy definition. Elegance can become jaded. Once I have watercolored or penned past this point of sufficiency, there is no traditional way to reclaim the original fresh beauty than to start all over with a whole new piece of paper.

In this regard, graphic design has been my redemption. Utilizing the magic qualities of Photoshop and Illustrator I can excerpt that exquisite portion from one painting, combine it with another painting, a photograph, texture, or some beautiful plain white space. Muddiness can be cleared up. Busyness can be eliminated. Simple elegance can be retrieved.
  

Apple of My Eye

Apple of My Eye

Apple pie,
You are the apple of my eye
An apple a day keeps the blues away
And I’m not talking apples and oranges
——-   ———–   ———-   ————   ——-
For health, for joy
For love in my heart always
In the abundant orchard of Life
You are the one I picked
Mind Garden

Mind Garden

Scented slightly
of fragrant tulips
The garden of his mind flourished
with the new blossoming
of his thoughts
Winter Morning Early

Winter Morning Early

Sun peeked through
ivy and bare tree branches
singing a bright and cheerful note
After all these days of grey
rose up stretching
awakening senses
Which had been asleep,
it seems, for days and days
Winter morning early
kisses my forehead
and invites me out to play

Deer Guard

In the icy fog at dusk
an intrepid herd of deer
await the arrival with patience
And stolid fortitude in silence
gathered for confidence
mingling by habit
———————————————–
Deer at the gate
lay me down
Under abundant apple trees
as I silently wait
———————————————–
Innocent strength here
arrives in silent vigil
Keeper of the faith