The studio is cleaned and I am occupying myself with small tasks
that have gone by the wayside in favor of loftier goals. That would include painting my hallway, mending, making greeting cards, and doing a bit of experimentation with using my slab roller (for clay) as a printing press.
Taking stock of my situation, I am in a creative “eddy.” As a kayaker, I find that the sport and rivers offer so many metaphors for life. For those of you unfamiliar with the term, eddy, it is “ a circular movement of water, counter to the main current, causing a small whirlpool”. You find these on the back side of rocks or behind a point that extends out into a river. Sometimes you get sucked into them inadvertently, and other times you purposely “eddy-out” to get out of the flow of the river to rest and regroup
Continue reading “Perspective From a Creative Eddy”
room, and a creative hangover. That’s where I am at. I’ve been here before and it’s not fun. You feel lost, lonely & a sense of despair. The one thing I do know “This too shall pass” (but not without some effort).
They are the nonconformists of the plant world. You will find these epiphytes growing in the top of trees and bushes in tropical/subtropical climates such as the SE USA, Mexico, Central & South America & SE Asia. They shun growing in soil, preferring a good view from above. Nutrients are 
absorbed from water & air through special structures on their leaves called trichomes. I love their quirky shapes & personalities to the point I made a business of selling them and unusual holders on 
Some of my favorite art is the cave paintings from Paleolithic times or the rock paintings from ancient Native Americans & Australian Aborigines. There is an ongoing debate about the purpose of this primitive type of art. I believe it was about story telling or merely leaving evidence of their existence, much like tracks. These images were made to be viewed by other people. A simple hand print on a wall is powerful. It says “I was here.”
How does one re-enter gracefully after days from home and hours in transit? Last night I returned from a week in Alaska on the heels of a three-week trip to Ireland and tried to get my bearings.
I started this practice some months back. It just sort of happened with no premeditation. When I was in some random airport waiting for a connection, I spied some lovely little leather journals in a gift shop and thought “What a perfect place to write poetry!” The journal was purchased and is now over half full of poems and drafts of poems. In the morning I am either working on a poem, reading poetry or doing a combination of both, in bed, a cup of tea in hand with two furry dogs beside me for company. It’s been a delightful way to start my day, so much nicer than reading the news.
Humanity around the world has its differences in what holidays are celebrated. The one thread that unites us is the changing of seasons. Most cultures have some kind of observance for the seasonal markers around the equinoxes and solstices such as it Harvest, Halloween, Day of the Dead, Christmas, Hanukah, Easter & so forth. In Northern climates, the Summer Solstice, or 
Midsummer’s Eve is cause for celebration. On the longest day of the year, there is a little magic & love is in the air.
most lovely event, a choral concert in the local church in the village of Ballyvaughan put on by the Lismorahuan Singers. In the choir were the smiling faces of numerous local faces we had gotten to know during our week long stay there. What a perfect way to spend our last night in Ireland- worthy of a poem.
