blogging by moonlight

The Sacred Warrior

A very beautiful thing just happened, and I want to thank Durga! No, not me, and not the Goddess (although her, too), but Durga of Durga and Michael, two lovely Australians who are working on behalf of the people in tsunami-affected areas of Sri Lanka. Thank you, Durga!

I've been a little low today---it's just one of those days when the world seems too heavy to carry. To tell the truth, I've been feeling paralyzed by too much choice and not enough clarity. Demons come in all shapes and sizes, don't they?

So I listlessly logged onto my blog before shutting down the computer, and this is what I found: "Wow. I just did a random search of my name and found your blog. I have NEVER met anyone who has the same first name as me and I have always wondered what kind of people have my name..." A lovely comment from a Durga I'd never met!

Well, I thought, so many people have asked me what my name signifies, and now there are two of us, so here's a small tribute to the Goddess Durga, whose warrior influence I can certainly use today---and maybe you can, too.

I wish I could say that my parents gave me this name from birth, but they didn't. I got this name from my Spiritual Teacher about 20 years ago. And indeed, over the years I've learned why it's so appropriate in my life.

In Hinduism, Durga is one manifestation of the Divine Mother, and her story is impressive. It's well for me to remember it on days like today, when my spinal cord disappears:

"Durga, the beautiful but formidable Hindu Warrior Goddess, was created in a time of extreme crisis, when the stability of the cosmos was being threatened by demons who were attempting to usurp the powers of the gods. Unsuccessful in repeated efforts to defeat their adversaries, the gods assembled and concentrated their fiery energies to create Durga, the first goddess in the universe. A magnificent battle queen who rode on the back of a ferocious lion, Durga had many arms, each wielding a weapon with which to strike down an enemy...Stronger than all of the gods combined, Durga and her attendants, with their awesome power and superior military skills, succeeded where the gods had failed. The demons that threatened the world were handily and soundly defeated." (from Celebration of the Goddess)

I love that story.

At its very heart, Hinduism is not polytheistic. Their gods and goddesses are legion, but they all embody aspects of the Absolute One, the One God. They're stepladders to the Truth for evolving souls. Durga, with her many arms and kick-ass attitude, illustrates the feminine aspect of divine power that promotes creative energy and activity, and embodies the principle of restoration of cosmic order from chaos. ...And maybe also sometimes just from a little unclarity...?

Thank you, Durga (my new Australian friend), for the reminder.

The pictures, by the way, are from my private collection. The top one is from a calendar, believe it or not, and this one, uncharacteristically showing Durga riding a tiger instead of a lion,is actually the top of a small box and is fashioned from ground stone. They were both gifts from dear friends some years ago, encouraging me to pick up my own weapons and wield them.

As Durga and Michael are certainly doing in Sri Lanka. And may I wish you all the very same.

Weaving sunshine

Out in the beautiful lushness of central Corsica, about as far from the sea as I am close to it, is a lovely workshop of knitters and dyers of Corsican wool, called Lana Corsa. It's the only place in the world I know of where Corsican wool is worked with and sold, and any tradition of Corsican wool processing kept alive. All the rest of the wool in this shepherding land is burned as refuse.

This morning, Will and I drove out to visit the workshop for the first time since they moved into their new building. A huge airy shop in front and two big workrooms behind, brilliantly sunny day, running river, yellow rape, happy Labrodor! I foolishly left my camera behind, so until I go back, here's their wool sample card for you to look at --->.

The reason I'm writing about this is because the women who work at Lana Corsa have decided to expand their wool works and want to learn to weave. Several years ago, I wove a couple of blankets from some wool they gave me, and they sold the blankets for me in record time. They wanted me to continue at that time, but wool blankets just weren't the direction my weaving wanted to go. Now the women at Lana Corsa have asked me to teach them how to use the two looms they've just purchased, and I'm pleased to say we're having an intensive weaving week in the middle of May!

This touches me deeply and I'm so very pleased to do it. The rupture I've felt with my weaving since we decided to leave here has been a sadness in my heart. I agreed to do this course before the move was an issue, and I've been worried about it for weeks, seeing it looming in the future and wondering how I would ever make it through the emotions. But our visit today was a real joy---all my love for weaving came with me, and these women's enthusiasm and determination was inspiring. It's going to be wonderful fun!

Lana Corsa is well aware that if they don't preserve the tradition of Corsican wool, it's likely that no one will. There are few weavers in Corsica any more, and my own ideas for my weaving workshop here were inspired by the few bits I'd been able to unearth. It's a very poignant opportunity for me and I'm deeply touched that I can give something back to this island before I leave.

What was looking like a formidable task is turning into a gift to me. How could I have planned it any better? And when I go in May, I'll be sure and bring my camera!

The spiritual tree

Isn't she something?

I was searching for tree references this morning and found "The Spirit of the Komachi Cherry Tree" by Yoshitoshi, a 19th-century Japanese woodcutter. If you'd like to see more of this man's work (and quite a lot more besides), here's the link to a very nice Canadian site that was kind enough to let me use the image: The Art of the Print.

The spirit of a cherry tree. It absolutely entrances me.

I was searching for tree references this morning because my dedication of yesterday started bearing fruit today. I'd found a passage in a small book by Paramahansa Yogananda a couple of days ago:

"...Concentrate your efforts on successfully maturing the spiritual tree, that you may someday gather the ripe fruit of self-realization."

The passing image of a spiritual tree touched me, and this morning I started nosing around...trees, fruit, abundance, the Divine Mother...ripe for exploring in color and words...The elusive goal in the mist...

Then something else funny happened. My journals are square black books with white pages, filled with fine black ink and colored pictures, where I've recorded thoughts and goings-on for almost 20 years. I have a mile-high pile of them. In the beginning, they were full of my newness in Europe, and later of my art. These days, they're full of meditation. They are the tracks of where I put my feet.

So, because it's always what I do first, I sat with my journal to begin this process of trees and fruit and the Divine Mother, and suddenly I knew that, for the first time, my art needs to be elsewhere, in another book, another place...or rather, meditation needs to stay alone. Odd, I thought...I'd always treated them as two parts of one whole, but I see now that things have changed and they no longer are. This feels momentous, strange, nothing I can explain, and yet impossible to do any other way.

What this means, of course, is that I need more notebooks, so I've already placed the order. I like to use the Square and Chunky Sketchbooks from Seawhite of Brighton. Lots of space on those white pages, and there's something so perfectly irking about a square format.

Time to go sit under the cherry tree.

Starting off white

I'm starting over. Four months of this blog experiment has shown me how easy it is to get sidetracked, drawn off course by computer meltdowns, book writings, and sick dogs into miles of brambles and humdrum. Life will always happen in abundance, thank heavens for that, and I'll send my mind gladly along for a spin. But when all is said and done, I've got a destination and I want my feet back on the path.

So to celebrate this glorious Easter Sunday, the day of Resurrection, I'm injecting my blog with light and rechecking my navigational settings.

Starting over means relocating ground zero. That must be me, and here I am today on the terrace, in the morning wind, all squinty-eyed in the sun---no makeup, no pose, just me, at the mercy of my work and my vision. And that's my little painting corner: tiny like my paintings, and sunny, as I hope they will be, too.

As for the navigational settings...I don't know if any of you have this problem, but I can't count how many times I've started off with an idea that tickles my insides, I know it's right, and I push off from the shore, only to land somehwere in another port, with what seem to be someone else's results. Where did my idea go? Where's MY art? I don't recognize this stuff!

I've written often about the value of rite and ritual. Well, this is mine, a re-dedication to my goal. I have a vision for these paintings, a feeling for where I want to go, and the humility of not knowing how to get there. My goal is a show of my own small watercolors and drawings at Christmas this year, wherever I happen to be living. Yet this body of work also wants to be a story, a book, an entity...of what, I don't know. A big fat goal in the mist.

By the way, the agent whose name I spelled wrong shocked me by writing to say she'd received my re-sent book query and I'd be hearing from her in about a month. Blow me over...

Until the next time...walking the path...

Looming Labradors and the Search for an Agent

This is definitely NOT a gratuitous dog photo. And no, this dog is not searching for an agent. This is my beloved Perry (loom in background), injecting a bit of canine drama into the otherwise exceedingly boring life of his mistress.

Smack in the middle of all the exuberance at having finally gotten my book up on my site, Perry fell gravely ill. Picture, if you will, a Labrador who won't eat for three days---it boggles the mind.

We thought we'd lost him, and it put paid to the book celebrations for a while. The good news is he was treatable and he's back with bones in his mouth, looking precisely like the goofball he is, and wagging his tail at every opportunity.

And I'm back celebrating my book. Yippee!

For one thing, I've begun the long process of learning about the publishing industry. I sent off my first e-query to an agent yesterday (ONLY to be done when an agent specifically accepts queries by e-mail, in case you're thinking of doing the same). First query ever, trembling tummy, hit the send button, only to realize as I watch it slip away (what's your worst query nightmare?) that I'd spelled the agent's name wrong. A quick prayer (but no real hope) that it hadn't really gone out, then a short apologetic e-mail to the agent. Well, I thought, I'll never hear from her again, but no...an unheard-of immediate return e-mail informing me that the original query had never arrived and all she'd received was this inane apology (though she was too polite to call it inane)...leaving me to wonder...and to send the query again...What a mess.

Strange goings-on, but I expect they'll get stranger. I know nothing about the publishing world and am navigating this one entirely in the dark.

On another front, I've been given a valuable referral to an e-book publisher by a very high-profile motivational guy. What a treat! Of course, I'm following up on it, although I have no idea what direction the book wants to go. My own personal dream is of a shrewd yet motherly agent who'll take me in firmly hand with the long-term Me in mind, pointing out ever-so-gently where I've gotten the wrong end of the stick and nudging me into publishable shape.

This process is forcing me to come to terms with the writing side of me, which is not altogether a bad thing. I've always believed you cannot be an artist only in your heart. You can have the heart of an artist, certainly, but only making art makes you an artist. I'm a painter if I paint, and I'm a writer if I write. Since I've never discovered whether I'm a writing painter or a painting writer, I'll have to accept that right now, and for as long as it takes to finish this project, I'm simply a writer. And that's not a bad thing to be.

In the meantime, if you haven't seen it already, you can read a second excerpt from my book on The Creativity Portal. Here's the link: Work lightly: Be joyous!

The search continues...queries to go out by post and better products to produce. Writings to be written and paintings to be painted. The sun is shining in Corsica...and Perry's wagging his tail.

Now I'm REALLY jumping for joy!!

My e-book is done!! Go take a look: The Day Job Survival (& Escape) Kit. This link will take you to a download page, where you can read an excerpt and check it out.

Yay!

White

We're covered in white fog. There are no mountains, no sea, no village church. We're alone on a summit. It's rather beautiful, really.

These are the last days of writing my book. It's all I can do--my consuming creative act. No website, no articles, no painting...just writing. What a thrill, to be so near the culmination of this thing that's been growing for so long!

The fog is creeping up the garden and engulfing the begonias. Perfect writing weather. Look for me to emerge in a few days. When the fog lifts.