Fearless and Bright

mmm. mmm. Monday.

2012-03-05T07:02:00.000-08:00

The Happy Virus, Acrylic on Canvas 8x8 inches.

As you may know, I am a total food lover. Though my hankerings have definitely been affected throughout my pregnancy, it has led me to find some other wonders of the tongue... (oh, dear, that sounds funny!)

Give me anything India. I have been making this spice tea by the vat full. It is herbal, and easily could be caffeinated, sans preggo. I keep it in the fridge in a 1/2 gallon ball jar, adding almond milk with each serving. Pre-pregnancy I worshiped Bhakti Chai even though the price tag about killed me. This recipe dares to compete in a fabulous, generous way. Recipe borrowed and slightly altered from here.

Super Duper Chai

One-4 inch piece of fresh ginger root, unpeeled and thinly sliced

3-4 bay leaves

1 tsp. licorice root

1 tsp. allspice berries

1 tsp. whole fennel seeds 

1 3/4 Tbs. black peppercorns

2 3/4 Tbs. whole cardamon pods

2 tsp. whole cloves

10 small or 5 extra long cinnamon sticks, smashed (wrap in dish towel, place on floor and use a hammer to break em into bits)

8-10 cups cold, purified water

Place all ingredients in a stock pot with a heavy lid. Turn on low, set timer for 1 hour 45 minutes.  After timer goes off, turn off burner.  Let rest for an hour or so.  Strain out spices and pour the golden liquid into a 1/2 gallon glass pitcher, compost the spices.  Sweeten with honey (or your fav. sweetener, to taste) either at this point or in individual servings.  

To make an individual serving, mix tea with equal parts milk (I use unsweetened almond milk) and a spoonful (or 3) of honey.  Heat gently, froth it up if you have access to a frother!

Tomorrow I have a guest visiting and we will be sipping this along with nutty banana bread.  

Happy Monday! xo

Finding my Way.

2012-02-28T20:54:00.000-08:00

The mother-ship body that is shaping itself around me and my bebe continues to astound me. My fascination with the fullness, roundness, firmness, and aliveness is unwavering EVEN when my ribs burn and my hips walk away from each other and I pant because there is no space for breath... Surging. Contracting. Expanding. Freaking dumbfounding. It is not surprising then that the goddess form is showing up everywhere in my art. I started this piece around the time the little one inside me decided to join us. I would work on it, here and there, building many layers, letting each speak their truth. With no destination in mind...

And then, just the other day, I called in all the 8.4 million lifetimes in which I have given birth before (Really?), every mother ancestor, every mama mammal, and channeled the Adi Shakti (Biggest Divine Mother Power) into this:

In every painting I completely lose myself and then find a bit more of myself.


Finding Way, Acrylic on Canvas, 36x48in.

The Power of Play.

2012-02-21T09:31:00.002-08:00

Lila (lee-lah, sanskrit) speaks to the power of play. It is the delight of the Universe as we recognize our own goodness and take simple pleasure in whatever is. The polar opposites are required for the game to exist. You know the light dark thing... Think of the wonderous game of peek-a-boo, one nanosecond you are there smiling and the next you are behind your own hand. The child experiences this game with wild delight in seeing you and wonder and perhaps discontent when you are behind the veil. Just like in life, we go humming along, gloriously, and then bam! we forget the sparkle in our own heart and fear creeps in, until again (and always) we are shown the true face of the beloved.

Studio Lila was born of this concept.

Recently in Flora's online class, she exuberantly reminds us to play. It pissed me off. Yah, it sounds good and fun and I would love to, however, it is not the experience I am having in my being while painting. In the overall picture, for certain it is play, but what is this confusion? And how do I make peace with my experience?

Firstly, I have to look at my relationship to play. When some thing/word/situation stings repeatedly upon hearing/experiencing it, I take that as an indicator that there is a hook in it for me. Like tangled hair, I have to work it out, tease it out, massage it, and take my time with it. I traced my "play" story way back in my life and saw the culprit. It wasn't pretty and definitely not what I wanted to see, however, in daring to square up with it, Grace rushes in. This is no small task, to root out our beliefs, especially when they were formed to save our lives three decades ago... But what saved my life then is now limiting my freedom as an adult.

Upon this recognition, the forgiveness I offer myself and others involved has a magic of its own. Golden threads of the story present themselves as I move through my days. Sometimes this is very fast and neat, other times I thrash about, having to cry and pout and scream and sweat as I work it out... (it seems the deeper the hook the more ego thrashing involved!) The freedom always comes. ALL WAYS.

Meanwhile, my paintings don't look that much different, but my relationship to my time spent painting is morphing into something more luxurious, pleasant, and delightful; primarily through my own acceptance. There is room for pissy-ness, for glee, for tears, for wow, even for the anger. It all arises through the mixing and layering of colors. Each painting is a different relationship, some harder love than others. Play is not just a sunny, calm day at the beach, it is emptying the pee-bottle of my temporarily-handicapped husband, while I struggle with my very pregnant belly to bend over to pick up the towel that keeps falling on the floor, I cuss and I laugh, because really, it is all very funny. It reminds me of one of my favorite quotes:

Life is a picnic on a precipice.

-W.H. Audey

Okay, and one more: 

Let's shake things up til there's butter in the utters! 

-Otis, Back at the Barnyard 

Loving what is. 36 weeks.

Getting Messier.

2012-02-13T14:54:00.000-08:00

Lately when I sit down at night to art journal, I have little to say. Perhaps with my 9th month of pregnancy I just feel now. It is very pleasant to not have so many thoughts :)

Journey, Art Journal Page

The art prompt that I have run with is Messy. I am not super comfortable (understatement) with people seeing my messy side because, frankly, I am not comfortable with my messy side. I have summoned myself to an experiment on learning to be with and explore my own messiness. With my third trimester in pregnancy, husband still bed-ridden, (read more here and here), I have had to shave off all the extras, all the many things that normally (whatever normal is) I deemed essential... Now I am practicing leaving a pile of dishes for our helper to tackle, piling up trash outside our door, again awaiting a helper. Leaving stacks of stuff, sometimes mini disasters all over the place, as Husband and I attempt to shuffle him, me, and necessary supplies out the door to the rare appointment which leaves us completely exhausted... And then all the little art hurricanes I start and stop everywhere. And it is not just the act of leaving messes, it is the tremendous action of not judging myself about what I do or do not do. I think this is perfect training for the coming of baby...

What's inside the Moon, Art Journal Page

Needless to say, I have carried my Messy into my art making, in a new way. See, I make messes with my art all the time. But allowing myself to get down and dirty messy to find my way out or to spell out a new attitude for me is a whole new application of letting go. See for yourself... And if you dare, tell me about your relationship with messy.

Abstract, Art Journal Page

Moodling.

2012-02-07T19:58:00.000-08:00

Currently I am completely head over heels with art journaling. It is a very safe and non-intimidating way for me to make art and convenient! Mostly I make messes, fooling around, moodling. I am L.O.V.I.N.G. the word moodle. It comes from this quote that I ATE a few months back:

So you see, imagination needs moodling -----long, inefficient, happy idling, dawdling and puttering. 

-Brenda Ueland

Wild Eyed, Journal Page
An integral part of art-ing, for me, is the opportunity and vehicle it provides for me to process.  It is simply how I come to understand the world within and around me.  No big deal.  My earliest memories of contentment and clarity always involve "making things".  Just things, nothing in particular, no agenda, just wandering in a place where make-believe meets materialization, colored by my mood, it travels from the ether into my lungs, pierces my heart, intoxicates my nuclei and moves my hands.  What is left is an artifact of an understanding, a realization, the discards of a mood or habit; beautified into an offering for life itself.    

I don’t think about art when I’m working. I try to think about life.

- Jean-Michel Basquiat

In the ever evolving process of making, I continue to take classes (Just finishing up Misty Mawn's right now!), they get me out of my comfort zone; trying new things... What has come up for me recently is my urgency, wanting a painting to be done, NOW! I chuckle as I see this in myself, and totally recognize it is the depth, the layers that add richness to my work. A piece can not be hurried, just like a mood we must go through. Sometimes they blow through like a hurricane, other times, slow sweltering heat. Point is to be with it, stay with it, follow it in, out and around until I can hear its breath separate from my own.

In honor of moodling, meandering, staying with what is, here are a few more journal pages:

Words upon Words, Journal spread, base layers to the following:

Long Prayer, layers of words made into a leaping landscape.


We're Different, Art Journal page.

Nude and Round, ARt Journal Page, Charcoal.

So be it. More pages coming soon. Tell me how you process? xo

Flow.

2012-01-31T20:37:00.000-08:00

In the flow, out of the flow, acceptance, resistance, treading water, diving, lapping, sputtering, caught in an eddy and doing the friggin' butterfly. Don't forget floating on one's back, naked, night swimming, wishing on stars. It is all a part of the river.

Personally, I used to be the one who would only speak of doing the butterfly and the exhilaration of being naked under a kerzillion stars. Yet, much of my time was spent sputtering and caught in the eddy of bad brain, round and round with thoughts I couldn't quite kick. I didn't know how to do it different, I just knew I wanted it to be different in my head. Finally a dark, rough day came when the underwater caught and held me, my nose to the tangle of branches, feet weighted with doubt; mortified and simultaneously clear, I reached for help. When I surfaced, I saw a glimmer of something beyond my doom, I reached for it.

On its Knees, Journal Page, 9x12 Acrylic and collage

In yoga I learned that once a seeker has tasted the nectar, they will forever crave it. That craving for contact with my true nature, the speck of God in me that gets to connect with trees and birdsong and the speck in your heart and the hint of special in art making, has not only saved my life but given me purpose and contentment and a delicious community of friends.

Now, in my last stage of pregnancy (6 weeks from due date!) my bones support two souls, God filled and glimmering even while nauseas and aching and sleepless, sometimes I feel my softening joints will open up and swallow us both as we melt through the wood floor, so heavy is the weight of worry and disbelief. The moon is in my belly! Did I not swallow Her whole to shine into the center of me, to liberate me from creaky chains that I didn't know bound me at my very center? And in the midst of this personal journey, another human being has taken root in the nucleus of me, unfurling a wild dance, morning noon and night, in all four corners of my middle.

To see the speck of gold in one's own soul is to begin to understand the goodness one is made of. As I focus on that goodness, I see it grow, not only in me but all around me. My world has radically changed. Sometimes we need to be so uprooted from our usual ways, that the only place left is on our knees. I feel like I have been crawling for the last six weeks. I will add, it has been the greatest teaching of my life. I hate to admit I am grateful for it.

There are thoughts which are prayers.

 There are moments when, 

no matter the posture of the body, 

the soul is on its knees.  

-Victor Hugo

Sculpting Belly

2012-01-21T18:47:00.000-08:00

I am taking Misty Mawn's Online Class and she has me totally hooked on Paper Clay. Along with her uber inspiring prompts I am also reading Birthing from Within, preparing for Superbaby's arrival (in eight or so weeks!) I have so much pregnancy on the brain that when I have a few moments to make art it holds such metaphor and mama archetypes and body...
Here are my sculptures of the last 24 hours. I will get them painted soon and add those photos later!

A poem I am loving.

2012-01-19T20:42:00.000-08:00

When the Men Get it, We're all in Luck

Poem by Goddess, Judyth Hill from "The Presence of Angels"

When Rumi saw the house, he knew the Beloved lived there.

Palace Avenue it's not, more like 12th field to your right,

turn south at the patch of bluebells.

It was the Beloved's house, and the poet gathered the men there.

They complained about the dishes and the lack of facilities.

They took care of the children and did all the cooking.

It was a grove of men.

They kept thinking, we should fix up this old house.

But the poet said No! God is a radish! Get it?

Let the house be and play with the children!

Forget the plumbing and eat all the peaches!

Don't rebuild the carburetor, make wild music!

Then eat.

Then eat again, then sleep.

Let's get all mixed up, the poet says.

Let's call the yellow flowers by another name.

Let's make lists of fruits and hang them from the axes.

Let's use all the plates, then forget meal times.

Go right to kneeling, straight to praying.

Let's spin like dervishes.

Let's throw dice for who cooks and who cleans and then let's cheat.

Let's have only fun.

Let's let the women back, tell them we've got it, and it's about

radishes!

one hundred million tears - a poem.

2012-01-10T22:21:00.000-08:00

I am the tear-shaped bride

on this tiny tip of a moment

Page after page

of tears

droplets

spills

waterfalls

Pooling somewhere beyond me

Do not fear repetition

more tears

Allow the vault to empty

the box to break

Six egg shells 

and a wide river later

My shape is still 

round with beauty

Clearer now

with a center bloom

in chartruse

and two blue stars

Just move your tongue 

circle out the thoughts

Enter the center bloom

that is your spark

waiting forever

for your homecoming

my beautiful 

tear-shaped one.

Yum.

2012-01-09T22:25:00.000-08:00

Covered in graphite, as I sketch sketch sketch and scribble. Practicing shading and making non-lines. I reviewed a bunch of classmates work today and my heart was touched by the vulnerability evident in our sketches. Drawing takes such courage. I love that I have a small book to putz in, tens of half or quarter finished sketches, all the beginnings to this new year, this emerging Robyn-mama.

Later I did this Charcoal piece, for some reason it just keeps breaking my heart (open).

Me, age 5 Charcoal and White Pastel

A year's end.

2011-12-31T15:51:00.000-08:00

A wish for us all in 2012:

And as always:

Happy New Beginnings! I know I have shed more layers than I can count this year. It has been huge and wonderful in an unexpected way. Wonder-full and hard, new and challenging and with more peace than I have ever known. I recognize I am stronger than I ever imagined, I am kind, I can forgive and accept. I am spacious.

A poem for you, I wrote for Misty Mawn's class:

I am here
in a blue
sky room
My own nest of
poems and crystals
A woven shell
delicate and porous

I am here with
my long spine
Unfurling through
Earth’s mantle

The succulents of
my garden drop babies
all the time
Giving life
effortlessly
and with thick
beauty
The nest of me is full
of treasures
a toy house
a silver rooster
Montana cherry jam
and the milk of goats

I am here with
the tidal pull
between what I want
and what life gives
Stitching a quilt
from the scraps
of another’s making

I paint my farm
with twigs and tears
and a ripening joy

I am here with holes
and fallen out parts
the white wind
and 8000 sparkles

With no place
to stand
I fly

I am
right here

Well well well, continued.

2011-12-27T19:02:00.000-08:00

Life happens on Life's terms. My husband shattered his tibial plateau and now has two plates and 14 screws just below his knee. 10 weeks no weight bearing. I am in my third trimester of pregnancy and THANK GOD I am not on bed rest too. It seems unfathomable to me the how of this, yet, we are making it, day by day. If I get too far ahead of myself, as in considering what's for dinner at breakfast time, I start to cry. If I even dare to consider nursing a baby at that moment I am unstoppable with my tears. I am amazed by the potency of stress, how unmanageable a life can seem in the blink of the eye. And how utterly beautiful the eyes of my husband are from across the room, locked on mine. How this simple gesture fuels me and I hear the cooing of the Universe, "Just keep going, Robyn, I am right here."

We shake with joy, we shake with grief.
What a time they have, these two
housed as they are in the same body.
-Mary Oliver-

A friend said, "Can you believe how deep the well is, Robyn?". Another, "We are so much stronger than we know." I know I am going on God-power here. Just when I think I will die if I have to bend over and pick up one more thing or plug in something or go fetch this or that, I sit down a while, close my eyes (maybe only 3 breaths worth) and get up again.

Hard? hell yah. Worth it? you betcha. I am learning more about resilience and kindness, generosity, receptivity, and self care. I am experiencing an entirely new way of being in relationship to myself, and thus to my beloved.

Shattered. He shattered his leg bone. It shattered my picture of how I wanted things to go. Big f-ing deal. Here we are in the midst of our lives, every moment we have a choice: Will we let this tear us apart or bring us together?

Late last night I crumbled. Thanks to all of you who promptly responded to my prayer request, as I awoke to an in-home-nurse, two helper bees, and the gorgeous sun. Learning how to receive is shattering a great deal of my protective armor which until now, I didn't even know I was lugging around with me. I am showing up and Godee is showing off. I have enormous compassion for those of you who have been/are care-givers, in particular for your beloved(s). Talk about a spiritual path. Again, I don't even want to begin to consider the spiritual path of motherhood, I will tackle that when I get there.

By the way, William is making great progress. Your prayers and support are sincerely appreciated.
Love to all of you,
R.

Well well well.

2011-12-26T20:00:00.000-08:00

Ski Patrol called. Oh crap. Husband had a minor ski accident which led to major (long and intricate) surgery. He pulled through real well and I am sitting in his hospital room writing this, day three, following the accident.

Scenario this, pregnant mama, with 13 weeks til baby arrival and husband with no weight bearing for 10 weeks....

I zip home after day one to prepare the house for his return and realize I can lift barely anything without my butt going into deep ache as my own ligaments are stretchy stretchy and what do I find but a 225 lb rocking chair, boxed, on my back porch. Thank God-ee, it wasn't snowing. As the reality of our situation began to sink in, I vented my frustration in loud, inarticulate, and random outbursts ranging from crying to oH-F-ing, to laughing in disbelief.

Let's get something straight. I pray a LOT. So in between being mad at God-ee and doing the "Why and how" thing, I kept hearing, "It'll all work out. There is plenty of help available to get you two through this." So I said, "what about that big box?" and no sooner than I thought the prayer a man pulled into the driveway and walked up to my door. Turns out he was the mail man, here to pick up the other packages I scheduled. He joyfully dragged it to the center of my living room. Twinkle twinkle.

Next, I had a nudge to swing into the PO, low and behold, the thing I need to mail I had shoved in a bag and happened to have it with me, and there were no lines...

Then, I heard, "Make a list, Robyn, of all the things Will does that he can't do now and that you can't do. Send it out to everyone you know requesting help.

This weekend my beloved yoga teacher, John Friend, came to Denver to teach. Though I could not be there, the years of great work I have done with this man carries me through yet another part of my life. My yoga may not look like a pretzel from the outside, but I am certain it is at deep play as I untangle myself from my fears, into efficacy and surrender and peace. My goal is peace. I believe peace in this world begins in each one of our hearts. Every bit of life offers us an opportunity for growth, for peace for connection.

Perfectionism uncovered.

2011-12-14T14:49:00.000-08:00

If we are always full of what we want to do

there is no room for new. -Cassou

Life is a picnic on a precipice. -W.H. Audey

Permission I have granted myself: just paint whatever, is leading me on an unexpected joy ride. Freedom abounds. I am using whatever supplies are at hand which currently includes: elementary school watercolors, caran d'ache neocolor II's, a bick pencil, some sharpies and a uniball pen. I find I am just meandering, paint brush in hand, twirling letters only to wipe them out with a wash of water. Building gentle layers, experimenting with color and shape, all driven by play. I really could care less what I am making, it is all about process and staying with the play. Time passes and I realize I am content and connected.

There is no room in perfectionism for art making. I have reached a point in my art making where I get to see where my perfectionism is and that the real creativity happens when I step outside of these pretenses. Just like many of the changes we undergo in life, not much may look different on the outside, yet on the inside all has shifted. Essential for me right now is the consistency, just needing to push color around, to make loops and and stiff backs with my pencil, to stay in touch with the lines of Robyn.

With these journal pages I get acquainted with my flounderings, with my innate promptings, I allow my insatiable desire for unstoppable color to overwhelm me, landing me in the browns and muds that I never allowed myself near. Permission to be, to follow my curiosity and my deep knowing and my explorer self where ever in full trust.

Idea Pantry

2011-12-06T20:35:00.000-08:00

The Start of Something New

More on engaging the creative.
I have a deeper desire to connect with art-making in new and refreshing ways. I am searching for more and more access to what has been bound up in me for so long. It doesn't surprise me that I am seeking out new tools for discovery, as I am changing rapidly, so too are the ways I choose (and find) to express myself. What is that saying about insanity? Doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results... So I figure if I continue working in the same ways over and over again I will {one} go nuts and {two} get the same results. Is this funny? I think so! I want to mooooooove!
I have run with an idea from my beloved poetry teacher. Here goes: She introduced me to the Poetry Cupboard. A way of gathering tons of random, rarely-related words in one place for reference and launch pads, a writing exercise in itself, these lists become life preservers as well, life lines back out from the depths of the chasms we write from/through.

5 words, Fast Scrap

Then I started leaving vms for my bff (we live in different states with full lives and need to connect real fast) we play this game I call 5 words. It goes something like this: "Hi BFF, My 5 words today are: tender, calm, excited, mad and refreshed. I love you, bye." She will call back at some point and leave her 5 words from her "real" place. It is powerful and an honor to share with another.

Next, in nearly every painting I make, somewhere in the rough of it you will find a gratitude box. Another list, much like a variety seed packet -potent little beads of potential- ready whenever we are to root down and sprout out across the canvas.

And now I have bumped into Sarah Ahearn Bellmare in print (shhhhh. secret crush!) and have fallen in L.O.V.E. with her scrap pages. You can see for yourself in her book.

Here is my experimentation with fast scrap (my term). A combination of all the above things. I am over the moon with the simplicity and how good it feels to just scribble. I am also including working with things I don't like: White Pages, colored pencils, pencils in general and markers. It is pushing me and I kinda like it. :)

Anais Nin Quote.

If you want to learn more about the delicious-ness of art journalling, I am offering a plethora of workshops to start off the year! Look here.
xo, R.

Must DO THIS.

2011-11-30T19:53:00.000-08:00

Last spring I had the tremendous opportunity to rock it out with Flora B. in person at The Makerie. You may remember that I fell in LOVE with her. (Read that story here.) Now she is offering her first ever e-course!

All I can say is, "Hurrrrrrrrray!"

Sneak peak below, photos courtesy of Flora:

Photo Credit Beth Nicholls

Registration is now OPEN for FLORA BOWLEY'S e-course. Hurry and sign up and get yourself a free copy of her upcoming book (and the early bird rate). (OMG!)

Photo credit Beth Nicholls

Talk about perfect timing, as I will be HUGELY pregnant and unable to travel, except to waddle out to the studio to watch Flora videos and paint (all in my own time!). What a gift for my last month of pregnancy! I am wondering who of you Colorado peeps will join me so we can have the occasional "study group" up here at Studio Lila headquarters?! Leave me a comment below and I'll put it together.

Conspire to Inspire; together we brighten the world-
xo,
Robyn

Sculpture.

2011-11-27T15:28:00.000-08:00

I grew up in a small town in Northern Minnesota. In grade school we had a big art room, nothing fancy though, compared to today's standards, it was deluxe, with its pottery wheels, kilns, abundant paints and supplies. I managed to obtain after-school passes to create at my leisure with anything and everything I could get my hands on. Unfortunately I didn't know how to use much of the stuff and had no examples, no matter, I just made things up. I spent my winter evenings in that big cold room, by myself, eyes wide open, enraptured with my muses, in my own little heaven.

I messed around with a lot of clay back then ~~and haven't touched it since~~ and then again briefly in a double wide trailer outside of Bozeman, MT. And then last night. I had dog-eared a section in Misty's book, contacted her about preferred type of air-dry clay, ordered it, and it had arrived. I dived in. My pregnant body has been calling to me to carve her out, see her shape, experiment with another medium I haven't known before...

And here she is, so far. I plan to use ink to dye the clay once it has dried, stay tuned.

Creating an "armature" with phone book pages, masking tape and wire.

Putting the body together.

I think this was my favorite part, just forming the armature.

I covered her with clay and shaped her features.

Staying With the Creative Force.

2011-11-27T13:18:00.000-08:00

Recently I asked the Universe,

"How can I stay involved with art through my pregnancy without having to spend hours and hours in the studio?"

Don't you just love it how answers trickle in, bit by bit, when and only when we are ready? The Universe truly has impeccable timing.

1. I am re-discovering the very act of just art-ing for 10 minutes a day. It is perfect and utterly doable because in all seriousness, that is all the energy I have. Next to me in my nest of a bed is my journal which I am working on doodles and scribbles and hand-writing this evening.

2. I am reminded of bad paintings and their significance. We must paint them. In a course called Get Your Paint On, which I took online this past summer, they told us to embrace the suck. This weekend in fact I painted 2 bad paintings while laughing out loud and sputtering, "Bad paintings are paintings too!"

3. Blogs. I adore the online art community. It is incomprehensibly enormous. Preposterously creative. Outlandishly inspiring. One thing leads to another, and some nights it is just the perfect thing to do, much like wandering through the botanical gardens with Mary Oliver reading her mighty poems around each bend.

4. Online learning. Let me tell you (AGAIN) about Yogaglo. I LOVE THEM. And now all these pace yourself art workshops that I can do IN BED if necessary especially art journaling and drawing! Some of them are even FREE and free!

5. Through all of this I am re-inspired to pull out my watercolors and charcoal. Back to watercolors, they are after all, exactly where I began. They are simple, tidy, take up little space and quick. I created a "play basket" for in-home/out of studio use.

6. BOOKS. I have an enormous library. I have recently been luxuriating in re-visiting my art friends in print. Again, seeking out quiet and still ways to stay engaged with the creative process, books are easy-peasey. I enjoy going through a book multiple times, I get to start where I left of, and most times I find I am in an entirely new place, having been utilizing the techniques I was previously salivating over...

The current stack of books I am EATING:

Unfurling by Misty Mawn
Painted Pages by Sarah Ahearn Bellemare
Simple Sewing for Baby by Lotta Jansdotter
Handmade Beginnings by Anna Maria Horner
and I am anxiously awaiting this book: Modern Mark Making
Last but not least, my very own little black art journal. Cram-packed full of inspiration. (more on that later)

7. And then there is the kitchen. We all have these spectacular studios built right into our house! I accept that, right now, food preparation and experimentation is totally filling my heart and my growing belly. By the way, please check out my friend's popular food blog where I wrote an article on Creativity.

Tell me how you stay with the creative through thick and thin? xo

Thankful.

2011-11-25T17:13:00.000-08:00

So true, so true the saying: Gratitude unlocks the heart.

Gratitude List:
1. Spontaneous Dolly Parton dance parties in the kitchen with my husband.
2. The bold Colorado sun streaming through my windows in the Garagio.
3. The constant teachings gurgling up from my growing belly:

Let go, more and more and more.
Doing nothing is the hardest work I have done, yet.
Go deeper than the fear, when I slow down and sink in beyond the fear(s), my heart is full of Truth and Graciousness.
Allow, give up the resisting.
Be Silly.
Ask for help, be specific and receive.
Name it, I put a name on what I am feeling, out loud to a trusted friend to dis-spell its power over my serenity. Works every time.
Acceptance for the rapid changes, the aversions, the cravings, the aches and the roar of emotion.
REPEAT.

4. Great Books: reading the Mary Magdelena series right now. Whoa!
5. Online courses, which, for prego me, are the greatest use of my time and fleeting energy:

Yogaglo: meditations and prenatal courses
Misty Mawn's upcoming workshop!
Flora Bowley's upcoming workshop (Check here Dec. 1)!
Endless art journaling workshops, here here and here.
Mindful Smacks, check em' out.

6. And YOU. All of you.
Thank you from the bottom of my pounding heart!
Studio Lila is offering free shipping through Dec. 11, we are also offering great deals on bulk holiday card purchases... And weekly specials on original art at etsy. For notifications, "like" Studio Lila on Facebook and you are in! xoxoxo

On Staying Inspired.

2011-11-08T21:20:00.000-08:00

Mug from my favorite ceramic artist and friend, Leah DeCapio
atop the newest issue of Somerset.

Hot chocolate helps, always. (Sipping on this recipe now.)

I am sitting and thinking a lot about art these days: Others' art, relationships amongst artists, art I have created, art yet to be created, and my relationship to art...

BTW, a terrific interview with Somerset Magazine just hit the stores, it reminded me of ME, granted it is all about me, but something about the way it was written, woke Me. Thank you Somerset!

Considering my relationship to art, I did a meditation the other night that revealed to me flashes of my art-ing over the course of my life. Point blank, art has been my refuge, a hiding place, a place of certainty where I make contact with something greater than myself and am swept away into magic, nearly always.

As I discover, recover and nourish the real me, my relationship to art and art making is changing. My studio has felt so lifeless to me lately. I tucked this realization away in the back of my mind a couple of months ago (ouch), not wanting to deal with it just then. Now it is heavy and wanting my attention. "What is it?," I have been asking my heart. Little by slowly the real me is revealing herself, to me and the world. I am making room for her in ways I could not have imagined until now. There are so many layers to this exquisite life.

I take a wide look at what I love. I allow myself to wander, spend countless hours in the kitchen whipping up all sorts of concoctions to entice and nourish myself again. I spend many evenings reading food blogs, three favorites: here, here and here. I totally get off on reading accounts of people manifesting their dreams, sharing their daring and real experience, Look here, here and here. I want real, the grit and bubbles of it. I am outwardly expressing luxury. Napping excessively (is there such a thing, especially when pregnant?) I used to hide my self care, my Truth, my Luxuries, just like my art. I don't care to psycho-analyze this other than: it is time for me to allow luxurious, nourish, wander, adore, sexy, truth, faith and big big LOVE into my life again. I thank you all who continue to inspire me with your bravery and wild laughter.

A dear teacher said to me once, "From the outside, Robyn, all will look the same, but from the inside all will be different."

-Exactly.

Beauty Making.

2011-10-31T09:23:00.000-07:00

Rebecca Puig of Sugarboo offers this:

"Everything in life is art. What you do, how you dress, the way you love someone, and how you talk. Your smile and your personality. What you believe in, all your dreams, and the way you drink your tea. How you decorate your home, or party. Your grocery list, the food you make, how your writing looks and the way your feel. Life is art."

The spiritual teachings I imbibe have a reoccurring theme; beauty making. John Friend of Anusara Yoga eloquently states, (paraphrased) "We can be certain we are aligned with the Highest when we can answer yes to the following: 1. Is it life affirming? 2. Does it build community? 3. Does it make more beauty?"

I take a deep breath, close my eyes and allow my energy to sink into my heart. And there, much like the magic eight ball, the yes or no flashes and I am certain to the protons of my marrow of what is right for me. Now, what I do with that information is up to me. I can wrestle with it, resist it, dive in, jump for joy, WAIT... whatever, those actions are all drama and take precious energy. Can I simply go with it? Mmmmmmm hmmmmmmmm. Though, nobody said it would be easy...

As I continue to grow in my pregnancy, energy is of the utmost consideration. I have found that even when I am aligning with the Highest, this too takes energy. (Mostly to stay out of drama around it, and oh, do I have a flare for drama!) There is immense satisfaction when I can stay with the essence of what is presenting itself. There is actually energy there, to grow and glow with. It is very subtle and is making all the difference in the beauty of my life.

What are you Making?

Snow Storm Granola.

2011-10-26T09:01:00.000-07:00

It is a big ol' snow day over here at Hound Hill. There is a warm fire roaring in the wood stove. I am making a batch of special granola-RAW, nutty and delicious. You need a food processor and dehydrator (or you can use your oven on the lowest temp. with the door ajar...)
This recipe is adapted from some genius woman and I have long since lost her info. I thank her as I have made this in my own way tens of times.

Raw "Granola"

2c almonds
2c. brazil nuts
2c. sunflower seeds
2c. pumpkin seeds
2c. raisins
1.5c. medjool dates

2c. raisins
1.5c. medjool dates
4 small apples, cored, skin on, coarsely chopped.
1.5tsp. Sea Salt
1/4-1/2c. water (use the soaking water from raisins and dates)

4T. Fruit Masala (at the bottom of post)
1/2c. shredded unsweetened coconut

almonds + brazil nuts
Soak in enough filtered water to completely submerge for 8 hours.

sunflower seeds + pumpkin seeds
Soak in enough filtered water to completely submerge for 4 hours.

raisins + dates
Soak for 4 hours.

Nuts and seeds soaking on left. Raisins and dates on right.

Sauce

Sauce.

Pour off soaking liquid from the raisins and dates, saving 1/2c. set aside.
Using your food processor or high speed blender puree the dates and raisins with 1/4c. soaking water, adding more if necessary. Add 4 apples. Add in 1.5 tsp Sea Salt. Add 4Tbs. Fruit Masala. Blend well, this will be the “sauce”. Pour into large mixing bowl, set aside.

I do not bother to clean the processor between steps...

Nuts
Pour off soaking liquid from all nuts and seeds and discard water. Rinse nuts and seeds.
Place nuts and seeds in food processor. Pulse until they are chopped real small but not pulverized. Add to mixing bowl. Stir Stir Stir with a big spoon to completely coat nuts. Add in coconut. Mix well.

Mixing all ingredients.

Spread mixture on several Teflex (lined) dehydrator trays. Dehydrate for 6-10 hours, or til desired crunch, at 114 degrees. Stir occasionally. Store in an air tight container.

Granola spread on dehydrator tray(s).

I ate it all before I could get a finished photo. Whoops! Just break it into chucks once it is done dehydrating. I love it with almond milk and berries. ;)

Fruit Masala

4tsp. cardamom
2tsp. cinnamon
2tsp. nutmeg
1 and 1/3 tsp. ginger

Mix the spices and store in a jar. Use on fruit salads, porridges, granola...

Pregnancy and Art Making.

2011-10-25T10:34:00.000-07:00

A sweet friend of mine asked, "What are some pregnancy changes you've been experiencing within yourself, cravings, and creativity?"

19.5 weeks!

What an awesome question, asking to express the very things I have been chewing on inside all these months (almost 5!)

Change. As Judith Hansen Lasater puts it, "Change is the only thing there is." Most days I welcome it, others, and fortunately seldom, but still there are those days, where I am grumpy and resistant. I have noticed these to be my breakthrough points. -In life in general and in my pregnancy they just appear to be more frequent and bigger. Just when I don't think I can take it anymore, so much change in ONE DAY, and whompf, I cry a bit and land in a whole new palace of softness and acceptance and realization. There is so much Grace available ALWAYS if I dare to open to it.

As an artist, I would LOVE to hear from you artists out there, your experience as you were pregnant...
With that I open the door to my experience, right now. The typical ways I create appear to be in hibernation. This was hard to accept in my head at first. I found if I sunk down deeper into my heart the creativity is certainly there, stirring in a quieter way.

So Far. Just prior to discovering I was officially pregnant, I had an enormous burst of creativity, painting huge paintings around the clock. Then I got sick, the tsunami of hormones had struck. All I could do was rest and take care of the essentials in my life, a humbling and necessary experience for this go-go-go, do-do-do type of gal. Now I am feeling substantially better and am learning to balance the energy I have. Growing another human being requires a tremendous amount of energy. My workouts are much shorter and mellower, even meditation has changed, I am still too nauseas in my early mornings to sit on my cushion without food and the support of a cushy chair. Yoga is absolutely necessary, it is slow and organic with lots of inner and outer spiral to create spaciousness in my core (thus in my mind!) I do about 2-4hours of physical labor/day (teaching or massaging) and whatever is left I might do some artwork. It has been challenging to not get down about the might part. And that is my duty, to let go of everything, landing in the lap of trust, just when I thought there would be nothing to catch me. Wow.

Be Kind, 6x8 original on paper.

Blessing. I get the amazing opportunity to look at the way I have defined myself by what I do or don't do. What a blessing, this opportunity for change, for recognition, for re-alignment to what really matters. I go back to the Light of my heart, over and over again, holding the hand of the Divine as I traverse the landscape of Heart. What I am experiencing is real Joy, the one that sometimes only comes after painfully, uncomfortably walking through, not knowing why, but with a strong sense of what is necessary.

Brave Rabbit, 6x8 original on paper.

Creativity. The desire of my heart is to stay as connected to Superbaby as much as possible. I am most at peace sewing up the nursery, hand printing onesies, painting nursery art, making and EATING! nourishing food for our family. As with all the other art adventures I have been on, I am giving myself over completely to this calling of my heart. I am remembering where I began; crafting with my grandmother. I am a crafter at heart and the domestic crafts are calling. I am so fortunate to be able to give myself to it.

Sewing.

2011-10-09T16:38:00.000-07:00

Pin cushion from Sm-artist Leah DeCapio.

Nothing like a cold snowy weekend to heat up the nesting instinct. I just returned from a visit to Fancy Tiger -the juiciest and sheekest (is that a word?) domestic craft store. And all the girls working there look like they just walked off the page of Selvedge Magazine. Now I am home with all my new fabrics in the washing machine... I find this the hardest part of any sewing project: pre-shrinking and pressing the fabrics. All I really want to do is get down to business with my scissors.

Mother Love.

2011-10-04T20:26:00.000-07:00

The leaves off Kenosha Pass, taken by my husband.

Ogolly. My beautiful mama just left after spending 5 days here with me and my husband. Sometimes a girl just wants her mom... My first trimester was a rough one, and the sweet cooing of my mom's voice on the other end of the phone had a very surprising affect on me. It felt so good and I wanted her here with me. I remembered all those times she would sit with me when I was sick or suffering from a break-up, and stroke my hair and generously offer her love... She shared with me something her mother told her before my mom ever had us kids: "As a parent you will never be loved as much as you love your child." My mom said she really didn't understand what gramma was talking about until she became a mom herself. I am just beginning to glimpse this kind of love, swelling in my own belly. As I recognize the power to love a child, I simultaneously am recognizing the depth of love my mama holds for me. This visit has been a time of tremendous healing and growth for me. Thank you, Momo.


Mom and me.

We read this together this morning and wept and laughed:

What Motherhood Really Means Condensed from “Everyday Miracle” by Dale Hans Bourke
While sitting at lunch, a friend of mine casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of “starting a family.” “We’re taking a survey,” she says, half joking. “Do you think we should have a baby?”
“It will change your life,” I say carefully, keeping my tone neutral.
“I know,” she says. “No more sleeping in on Saturdays, no more spontaneous vacations…”
But that is not what I meant at all. I try to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes: that the physical wounds of childbearing heal, but becoming a mother will leave an emotional wound so raw that she will be forever vulnerable. I consider telling her that she will never read a newspaper again without asking, “what if that had been my child?” That when she sees a picture of starving children, she’ll wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child suffer.
I look at her manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to a primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of “Mom!” will cause her to drop her best crystal piece without a moment’s hesitation.
I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she’s invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She may arrange for wonderful childcare, but one day she’ll be going to work and suddenly remember her baby’s sweet smell. She’ll have to use all her discipline to keep from running home. And no matter how many business decisions she makes firmly… she’ll constantly second-guess herself as a mother.
Looking at my attractive friend, I want to tell her that her life, now so important, will be of far less value to her once she has a child. That she would give it up in a moment to save her offspring, but she’ll also begin to hope for more years. Not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish his/hers.
My friend’s relationship with her husband will change, but not in the way she thinks. I want to tell her how much more she will love a man who is always careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to kiss and hug and laugh with his child. I think she should know that she will fall in love with her husband over and over again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.
I want to describe to my friend the felling she’ll have when she hears the belly laugh of a baby who is touching a puppy for the first time. I wish I could describe the feeling she’ll have when she scoops up her freshly bathed baby in a towel. I want her to experience a joy so strong, it hurts.
I offer a silent prayer for her and me and all the mere mortal women who stumble their way through this holiest of callings. My friend’s quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. “you’ll never regret it,” I say finally.

Printed Clothing

2011-09-28T07:29:00.000-07:00

Oh Golly. I am surging with nesting desire. With all this I have made my little one-eyed rabbits into stencils for baby clothes... Here are some photos of the Lila factory! Onesies can be purchased this weekend at my tent at the Horseshoe Market and in my Etsy shop! I am beside myself with how adorable they have turned out...

Inspired by...

2011-09-22T18:29:00.000-07:00

Fern and Sprout. wins my vote for inspiration today.
Look at this palette, not to mention candy for our hair and shoes! ANd These goodies will be available at the Horseshoe Market on Oct. 1, OMY.

Made by Mandy Yocom of Fern and Sprout.

Inspired by...

2011-09-17T07:31:00.000-07:00

Fabric.
Anna Maria Horner is dazzling me through her books and blog. She is a total color goddess! Look.

And I have a top secret item that will be premiering at the Horseshoe Market on October 1. And my beautiful Mama will be assisting me with the show! Looking forward to being back in the art scene...

Summer Review!

2011-09-05T18:25:00.000-07:00

Hello there!
I left you with the hopes for an enchanting August. How did your summer wind down?

August is such a mighty month. My gardens dazzled me, calling to me each and every time I step out the door. We have had the lushest Colorado summer I have ever known and just beyond my gardens grew a wild, darling field of yellow, purple, and white laughter. Tickled.

I am entering my twelfth week of pregnancy! Yup, you heard it, pregnant me! Toot the horns and wiggle your bum, please! It has been a very long, incredible summer as my nausea slowed me right down. Watching my garden and my body change is bringing me more pleasure than I ever imagined. What a gift to take time to be with change, to watch it, experiment, to get mad, to forgive, grieve, laugh, celebrate, wonder, adore, change.... Earlier this summer I witnessed a new born deer, resting in my back yard. I said gentleness was delivered that day here at Hound Hill and Boy o Boy have I needed all that extra Gentleness to handle my emotions and the curvy, unpredictable road of preggo. And you know me, I go deep. What an opportunity to witness my ways, to clear out that which is hindering and make space for the new and growing. Right now I get to see how much control I THOUGHT I had over my life and my body. Excuse me while I laugh a little: hahahahahhahahahahahhahhahhahahaahhhhhhhhh!

I keep learning about letting go. I have no idea how much I can let go, all I know is it feels like I have been letting go an awful a lot, and more than ever, and this letting go has again moved me into a new place in my being. There is this steadiness and calm there. Serenity? I think so, by golly, a whole new flavor. Isn't is fascinating that there continues to be new places, landscapes, lives within us? What an incredible gift.

Growing into again.

2011-08-18T17:12:00.000-07:00

Art cottage will go up in the grassy part in the center of photo.

Chick with a Tractor arrives. The trailer is pink. She rocks.

Dig dig dig.

We dumped the dirt here (Berm it!) and will be planting trees atop the berm to envelope the magic garden.

Looking from the garden patio up towards the garage, (house on right) studio will be above and left of the garage. The old driveway was graded and will be turned into a spectacular high alpine garden. AKA elk buffet.

The building of a new studio is underway! Wooot! Yes, a sudden change of plans. Sometimes it is like that (more on that soon....) I have adored the Garagio for almost a year. The opportunity to either turn Garagio into a major studio or build one outright has come. We (husband and I) both came to the conclusion that we really REALLY miss having a garage, we also really love having my studio right out the back door. Done, I will be moving out probably in October (that appears to the the month of starts and stops for me, so very appropriate) and the Garage will return to its original state with a lot of lingering sparkles while I will hop and skip over to the new studio.

I have been pinching myself. Is this for real? Who gets their own little art cottage perched amongst the mountains and comfortable breezes?! It is one thing to move into an already made structure, a different thing to design the building to suit the needs of good painting light, large canvas storage, wholesale department, small classroom, creative lounge, sleep-over/party loft and on and on and on. I could barely sleep the night we decided to move forward with this.

A team of dear ones in my life explained to me that we do not all of a sudden "become", rather, we are always becoming. Each studio, from the one that was beneath my couch to the one that grew into a purple sparkle salon plus room after room, to the high ceilings and tall windows of the Garagio, each has been as vital as the other to my growth as Robyn and as an artist. I wonder how many other artists out there struggle with valuing a talent that infuses everything they touch. I believe it takes immense courage to begin to see it. Once seen, more courage to work with it, continue to bring it into the world, and then to recognize the world is a better place for it. This could be about art but really it is about being ourselves and manifesting our heart's callings (that is REAL art) and really, what the heck else is there is this wide world?

I go back again and again to my piece-mealed vision board statement: The world needs your talent, your celebration. What rises up, when leaping, and following the guidance of the Universe, the very second I really fully choose the leap? EGO. Ego detests leaping and trusting. Ego drives to the surface the uber-tuber-puss (thanks Harry Potter) of old wounds. The one that surfaced for me: unworthiness. So what did I do? I crossed my arms and said to its shadowy face, "NO, go away. I am not going there ANYMORE. I see you and I choose to step into my talent, into faith, into beauty and elegance and receiving the bounty of this glorious and most generous Universe." Oh! shadow did not like that at all and began to prune, rapidly, all the while giving me the middle finger... I am realizing right now we don't just go on without the ego, we have to give it a job, something to do so it feels valuable then we can all get along again... I am inviting her with me, she can manage the contractors and the layout, and give me extra umph to ask for what I want.

Here are some photos of ground-breaking today and let me tell you it was all chicks doing the good work today and THAT is a powerful beginning.

Summer Break!

2011-08-02T17:57:00.000-07:00

Hi There,

7x9.5in. Paint on paper. Available in my Etsy Shop.

I am taking a blog break and will re-surface in September!
Please check out my website for the Studio Lila super sale, Etsy has a few original goodies on clearance too!
May your August be as enchanting as the depth of your dreams,
In Love,
Robyn

Intuitive wandering into BIRD.

2011-07-08T13:11:00.000-07:00

Dear Stupid Ego,
GO AWAY!

That damn thing is all over my tender artist these last few days. Urrrrrgh.
oh, well, I just keep painting. Which probably pisses it off all the more!

My process: wander. I am a cancer sign after all, mosey and tootle this way than that, like a good ol' crab.

Below is my process to get to the bird she now is becoming (still not finished). Sorry for the low quality photos...

Under-painting informed palette and inspired sassy bird. I outlined image in black paint.

Colored in image.

Added more layers of color.

Elongated eye and attempted to define feathers.

Removed big feathers and slimmed down the bird. Toned down background.

Nearing completion, phased out the yellow background, added dimension with light and shadow. And worked to refine lines.

Allowance

2011-07-06T13:39:00.000-07:00

Remember those kids who got an allowance? I can't remember if I got a weekly allowance, however I remember thinking up tens of ways to assist my parents in our house as a kid and would assign a price to all of it. It wasn't much money and I am certain it provided plenty of entertainment to them as well as above and beyond what a simple allowance would have asked of me. After I collected my pay I would race off on my bike to "town" (seven miles away) and buy Jelly Bellies and mini cards from Suzy's Zoo.

Coming more and more into my awareness is my fascination with painting magical animals. Truth be told, I am resisting my internal urge to paint the animals (my very own zoo) in my heart. My finger-paintings on paper are one thing, a thing that is now growing bigger and bigger on canvas. My very first "official" (whatever that means) acrylic painting, on a canvas board, was when I was twelve. I painted a ballerina mouse and she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. A perfect enlargement of my 1.5x2.5 in. card from Suzy's Zoo. It surprised me how colors are made; white could actually be a shade of blue and gray needed lots of red. More so was my amazement that I could bring to life a flat drawing and it was quite simple, in the scheme of things. My hand knew far before my mind how to paint.

Meanwhile, Griselda has hatched in my studio. I am quite taken with her. In fact I actually met her on a bike ride on the Western Slope in Colorado, where she saw us from across her field as we were biking. I saw her running with her horse friend to greet us. Of course, I dismounted my bike and climbed through the tall weeds to return the sweet hello. We petted and leaned into one another, trying to kiss and make up for lost time... Her tender heart haunts me. I keep wondering if my bassets would be open to sharing their playground with a small donkey? Please meet Griselda. She now lives in our spare bedroom, beaming in her mule-ish way.

Griselda, 30x30 Acrylic on Canvas

Up next is a peacock in a party dress. Stay tuned. This is just too much fun. And when I talk about allowance, I wonder now, what allowance am I giving myself? Try as I might to paint portraits and landscapes, I would rather place the sky scape across the back of a rabbit or in the eye of a poodle. My new allowance: let it be. As the Griseldas and the Martian Rabbits appear before me, I am to define them, adorn them and release them into the world. Why else have they come???

Martian Rabbit, Acrylic on Paper 7x9in

Remembering Suzy's Zoo and Space Ship Land (tv art program in the 80's) and allowing the kid in me to relish the imaginary, the magical, the place that I always went to, it is time to put it in color and form, for another's living room, nursery, bedroom. We all need to take these adventures, even momentary, and if my art provides a bit of escape from pain or a whiff of magic to propel another further with their dreams, than I am doing my heart's work.

Celebrate

2011-06-27T21:08:00.000-07:00

On nearly this very day two years ago, I had received, in the mail, a copy of my first published article with artwork. The BIG shock was that my artwork had been selected (total surprise to me) for the cover of the mag! Just today, I swung into the Post Office and pulled out not one but THREE issues of magazines all announcing on their wrapper: "Congratulations, you've been publish!" Heck ya!!

Tonight I remember the giant inquiry I embarked on, exactly two years ago, that, in due time, has radically shifted my life: My question, "How does one celebrate?". I had forgotten. My heart breaks a little right now for such tenderness and fierceness of longing. I wanted to feel joy, easily and spontaneously, without guilt, without shame. I wanted pure joy -the kind my teachers and friends and family kept telling me I was made of. Baba Muktananda said this, "God dwells within you, as you" and "Meditate, your happiness lies within you". I asked and I asked everyone around me. Finally I dared to ask my own heart what she wanted: A voice eagerly spoke up: "Dear One, the world needs your talent, your celebration."

Art Journal Page

Rilke says, "Ask your questions and on some distant day you will live into the answers."

Create With Me, Article about sharing art with kids

Celebration has become a way of life for me. An attitude, a choice. Another favorite saying of mine: there are no big deals. Oh my ego hates that one! And again, as I live into these words I come to recognize the big deal is life itself, the way my handwriting does what it does, the way my husband leans over his guitar to kiss me, the way the poppy blooms once and then disappears until next summer. The way the UPS guy always has dog bones for my pups. The struggle of not knowing how to celebrate because my bones felt empty, then the Grace of waking up to a new level of imbibing and freakin' thriving on life, as is.

Art Journal

A dear one call used to call me Smiles with Tears. I am smiling with tears, and this gratitude is the deepest celebration of all.

You are the Melody of the Universe

Teaching and teachers.

2011-06-26T05:49:00.000-07:00

Teachers. The Mountain Lion represents leadership and she circles me daily figuratively and literally, as she has been known to roam across my land. Lion medicine is the ability to lead without insisting that others follow. Recognizing that all beings are potential leaders in their own ways. Encourages one to balance power, intention, physical strength and grace and forever coupled with deer we are to remember there is strength and power in gentleness*. I painted this years ago, a saintly pink goddess:

St. Cougar, Acrylic on paper board

And just today a precious fawn was born in the backyard, barely able to stand she sleeps behind a stump, camouflaged by the tiny white flowers that surround her. Deer Medicine offers us the opportunity to express gentle love that will open new doors to adventure*. What a gift!

Gentle, mixed media on paper

I have opened my heart's doors to teaching: Sharing Lila Tricks, enticing others to dive fearlessly into colorful expression. Here are some snapshots of the masterpiece work that has been budding from the classroom in Studio Lila:

Wild and Bright, Art Journaling

Collage in action.

Under painting and texture.


Art Journaling Pages

LSR Designs

Gorgeous under paintings.


Mom & Daugher of BluDye and Hobbs the dog (black thing on shoulder!)

ARt JOurnaLing Workshops:

-Saturday July 17, 10a.-3p. $125

-Thursday August 18, 10a.-3p. $125

CoLLage WorkShoPs:

-Saturday, July 16, 10a.-3p. $125
-Friday, August 19, 10a.-3p. $125

Email me for more info!

Do not miss the weekly Wild Wednesday Lila Art Tricks. "Like" Studio Lila on FB and join the fun!
*All Animal Medicine information was gathered from Animal Speak, by Ted Andrews

I am happy.

2011-06-19T22:05:00.000-07:00

Real Quick:
Insanely delicious recipe inspired by I am Grateful and Ani's Raw Kitchen

I am HAPPY chocolate cream.
Brazil Milk
1/4. Brazil nuts
1 1/4c. water
1 tsp. lecithin
1/8 tsp. vanilla
pinch of salt
1/8 packet stevia
Whirl in blender, pour in jar.

Cream
9oz Brazil Milk (above)
3 black mission figs (soaked for 2 hours)
2 medjool dates, chopped
pinch of sea salt
1/2 tsp vanilla
1/4 tsp. rose water
2 heaping TBS. raw cacao powder

Whirl in blender til smooth, divide amongst two delicate glasses and sip or eat with a particularly small spoon and devour.

North.

2011-06-19T16:49:00.000-07:00

Hi there, I have returned from my travels to my great North, my homeland, the heartland....
This Journal Spread captures the energy of my trip:

Joy, Art Journal Spread

My favorite seat in the whole world is on this dock:

Morning Meditation, WI

This seat wasn't too bad either:

Me and my little blue feather, Boulder Junction, WI

I created a Studio away from home in the entry of the Thayer Family cottage. I think I could have spent the entire summer listening to loons and feeling the breeze off the lake in this precious corner of our northern fortress:

Little Lila, my suitcase studio.

And I worked on mini everything, in this awesome book I made in this class years ago:

Me-Art book. Daily art journal.

I painted girls inside, inspired by the Mighty MizKatie:

Boo girl.

Strange bird.

And a fat stack of 4.5x6's like this:

Lovers.

And on one rainy day we went for the most exquisite art tour. The green of the big oaks and ancient white pines sang to us along the entire way. The ferny under growth is endless and spell-binding. We wound our way to Moon Deer and Friends Gallery (oh! what a sweet name), where I found this artist. I adore this artist. And look at this, ALL these galleries are tucked into the most magnificent corners of the longest, unnoticed highways:

Old School House Gallery, Star Lake, WI

I art journaled that night to capture the twinkles on my heart and showcase my little blue feather:


ARt Tour, Journal

What a wonderful trip.
xo R.

My Muse Likes it Sweet.

2011-05-26T13:47:00.000-07:00

This afternoon I spent whippin' up the love in my kitchen. I was grape-vining with groovy music from one side of my kitchen to the other, reveling in the wild wake-up in my hips. One thing I have come to accept, my Muse likes it sweet. I have learned to adapt many recipes to get away from the "white stuff" -AKA refined sugar and flours of all sorts. Much like an afternoon in the art studio, the kitchen is a glorious realm for me to come home to what is within me, especially when feeling a bit displaced. I like that I can follow a recipe, make a mess, feed Henry (my composter), feed my family, and fill and fill my heart as I stir and experiment.

Today's recipe:
CHIA "Tapioca" Pudding (RAW), recipe inspired by This and This
1c. pumpkin seeds, soaked 4 hours
3 medjool dates (pit and soak in 1/2c. filtered water, save the soaking water)
2 Tbs. lecithin
6 1/2c. filtered water
2 Tbs. vanilla extract
2Tbs. cinnamon
1/2 tsp celtic sea salt
1 packet Stevia
2Tbs agave nectar

1c. chia seeds

Drain pumpkin seeds, puree in food processor or blender, add dates and their soaking water, Lecithin. blend til creamy. Slowly add 6 1/2c. filtered water, vanilla, cinnamon, sea salt, stevia, & agave. Pour contents into glass tupperware, stir in chia seeds. Let set up in the fridge. Stir after 15-30 minutes. It takes an hour and a half to set up completely. Will keep for 2 days in fridge!

Big huge YUM. What foods feed your Muse?
Have the best day ever! R.

O the Goodness.

2011-05-16T08:35:00.000-07:00

I am amazed over and over again as I let go and get out of the way. Some days this is so easy and effortless and then there are those other times that require the strength to move mountains to override the old habit that happens to be right in the way of my entire life. All I can really say is WOW and hold my hand to my tender heart that, in a blink of thinking something different in the face of the familiar, grew a few sizes bigger than I am used to. Vulnerable, stunned, a wee bit shaky. It is time to place the paintbrush in hand, dip into new colors and free the cardinals gathering in my heart. Stay tuned for photos of this one!


Collage in action.

On teaching, another WOW! Firstly, a giant thank you to the brave souls who attended the premiere collage workshop at Studio Lila. I was beyond excited to share my Lila techniques on collage + a hint of yoga. The power of art is ever proving its huge Self, all it takes is the desire to engage, to step onto the magic carpet and we are transported to new landscapes, all within our own being. Who knew we were so vast and rich and colorful? And this was only one of the ka-trillion journeys we get to make. You catchin' all this? Come play with us here at Studio Lila this Saturday for a full day of collage-laughing and gluing. You might just fall in Love.


Blooms.

Amazing too, in the midst of teaching my dream workshop #1, I journeyed through my father's diagnosis of cancer (Read more here and here.) That I can hold such aching concern, travel to be by his side for 6 days, hop off a plane and teach from the steadiness of my own heart, from the flowers of my life, to engage fully with what is before me, merely by leaning into my skyscraper heart. I used to lose myself so easily, especially in the midst of nuclear family, can you relate? In fact, I looked like a person on the outside and on the inside, well, I was trying on everything that came my way. Through diligence and a desire for peace I continue to seek what is steady and Light in this world. I have found Light in my heart: the same Light that burns through fog with a sky blue backside, the same Light that laughs its way out of the loons, the same Light that comes to blossom each spring through the crooked knuckles of fruit trees, the Light that peels through me in laughter, in sobs, in squeals, the Light that heals a family in the face of terminal illness.

May today be the best day of your life.
Peace, R.

big weeeeeeeee!


Wild and Swinging, freeeeeeeee!

Workshops!

2011-05-03T10:44:00.000-07:00

Zow-weee! We are rocking it here at Studio Lila in the collage workshop.
Here are two more options for the month of May, Please join us for some serious fun!
1. Art Journaling
Saturday May 14, 10a.-3p. $125
We will use scraps and poems, paint and pen, and fantastic prompts make entries into an art journal. Learn how to make artful doodlings of your lists and processing. Experience how this becomes a launching point for larger works of art...
No experience necessary.
At Studio Lila in EVERGREEN!

To Register and for more information email me.

2. Collage Workshop
Saturday, May 21, 10a.-3p. $125
Create gorgeous under paintings, Layer on the scraps of life, and polish your collage with simple marks that make it all your own.
No experience necessary.
At Studio Lila in EVERGREEN!

To Register and for more information email me.

Cracked Open.

2011-05-03T10:26:00.000-07:00

So fast and full of Grace. Exhale and your life changes. A blink, a flash, a gust, a flitter. No thing, no idea, is constant. The Divine calls us to lean into her to find our real foundation, over and over again. I have not sat to write since the first alert. At night I meditate till I fall asleep. In the morning I meditate til I fall awake. Til I fall out of ego into Grace’s lap. High speed change, radical healing, goodness, are taking a new face in my life: Peace. I went in committed to Peace and by God, It is Peace leading me, hair by hair, into the Robyn I’ve wanted to be, the one I rarely dare to be, the one I saved, hidden, for that special moment. And that special moment happened to be by my dad’s side in a hospital room in Northern Minnesota, telling him he had cancer. OUch. Life stole three breaths as a realization cracked the air between us. Cracked our family open wider. I did not expect to find peace in those giant cracks. I have also found tenderness, courage, hope, and acceptance. The Mighty thing that rose to the surface and eased my grip on life: forgiveness, waves of it lapped at the beach of my memory. A flame licking the coals of resentment and hurt and immovability; blazing my torch. Blazed a trail into full Robyn. She surprised me at every turn. She is full of pauses and knows acceptance. She loves her mother and adores her father, She enjoys their company. Family feels good to her, she makes the most of what is before her. She understands “no”, takes and offers it kindly, effortlessly. She holds boundaries in front of harsh winds. She says less and relaxes while listening. The world is not a bunch of galloping stallions coming for her. There is no stampede or sudden quake. And nobody is going to take her from me. As I slip into my clogs, today, it is with new awareness of Robyn and the role she is playing moment to moment. Can I be quiet enough to hear the cardinal in the trees? Still enough to glimpse the eagle soaring by? Might I lean into the moment, gently and with enough openness, to touch the depth of a crack with my breath? I think so.

O efff.

2011-04-25T16:42:00.000-07:00

Grace woke me up at 2 am one morning seven years ago to tell me my house was on fire. Grace woke my dad up this morning to tell him to get to the hospital. Grace is on our side. Wake up calls. And as Grace would have it I begin teaching the first of my collage series tonight. I just finished organizing my class thoughts and once again am reminded of the power of art. It takes me into my heart immediately and always if I can just remember to pick up my pencil, my sketchbook, and get moving. It is the fear of the unknown that chokes me. They don't know what is wrong, of course they threw out a few possibilities, one worse than the other. So I am sticking with Grace and asking for a tidal wave of prayers for my father, my family, my self, and the doctors involved. Meanwhile, I apply the layers of this life to canvas to paper to what ever will hold. Grace holds me. Grace holds us all.

Discernment.

2011-04-24T13:43:00.001-07:00

Did I not blog one week ago about the necessity and craving of copious napping? Furthermore, I wrote and sketched it over and over again in my art journal. HINT HINT. When the overwhelming urge to nap continues to knock on the door, ANSWER it by NAPPING. I did not nap all week, instead I threw myself into helping and, well, I have a flare for helping others and forgetting myself. Dang Nabbit. Consequently, I have been engaged in a three day napathon with all the lovely symptoms of flu. It is a bit unusual that I ignored the signs of exhaustion to a huge degree, not surprising though, as I entered a foreign land of 5 year olds and newborns. I got bamboozled, that is all. It is what it is and I have surrendered to extreme rest.

INdulgence.

2011-04-17T14:04:00.000-07:00

"If you stop at the first level, you are dealing with only the surface, never touching the hidden layers, never meeting the beauty of not knowing what to do, never really facing the void. It is relatively easy to start a painting, to put a few marks, shapes, or images on a white surface. But the real process begins only after this is done, when you run out of ideas, when you finally don't know what to do, when the path is narrow, for there is less room on the painting and there are fewer apparent options. It is then that you have to dig deeper in yourself, to relinquish control, and to tune in to larger dimensions and energies. Then you become the receiver rather than the doer." From Life Paint and Passion by Cassou and Cubley

The enigmatic Flora.

Hi There,
I have been on a whirlwind tour of my inner-most chambers and I am writing this, comfortably perched in the back of my new car, in Iowa. I am craving a very long nap, which I am certain I will be doing repeatedly, with my bff and her brand new baby who I am about to stay with for several days.
Flora report: I have met her and I am smitten. She is ever as lovely as all the blog posts have described. An enormous, high flying kite follows her, waving its banner of magic, wherever she goes.

Rules. I discovered I have many in my process, I got hung up all over the place. THIS is good for me, to interrupt myself again and again, trying many many new things. Add to this, my intention to be gentle and kind puts an entirely different spin on this life. To do this Trust is immanent. I have to trust in my immanent trust! AND I simply have to break my rules. There is one rule I am keeping, JOY, reminding myself always, "Play, Robyn!" (duh, studio LILA=play)

Can we get out of the way of our paintings and what does that even mean? And then WHAT?!
We made out with our canvases with our eyes closed, using only our hands...

The hands of the creator...

Sometimes I love my painted hands more than my canvas...


Blindly hand painted canvases drying against the old stone walls of Chautauqua.

We painted and we painted and we painted.

More drying.

Painting Tent.

Smitten.

And here is one of my pieces in progress, this is the under-painting I played with (then wrestled) all day followed by the finished piece that came through the following day:


30x30


30x30 The House.

So blessed I am to behold the magic of the Makerie, to make new friends and connect with old ones, to dare to be the painter my brush wants me to be... And now, in Iowa, after three whole days of yoga with Desiree Rumbaugh, my heart radiant and my head clear, I start the process of my next painting, churning the stardust of my innermost blood, mitochondria, and the lightest blue of my eyes with the giant love of the anusara yoga kula, new babies, six year olds and bff's. A thousand stories are exhaled every second and a million new ones are sprouting up from the fertile hearts of artists and yogis this very moment. I am glad glad glad to be one of them.

Happy hair.

2011-04-04T19:12:00.000-07:00

My studio swallowed me whole, yesterday, as I attempted to deep clean her...
It was prompted by painting big again, which I haven't done since I moved in October. I realized my space was all set for smaller art-working and found myself in disbelief that this huge new studio had so little space, hahahah. So I got BUSY: clearing, pushing, shoving, donating, and inventorying. It feels so good to sift through every art-i-fact once in a while. Important, too, like each piece smiles a bit broader with me touching it, and I smile, remembering, bit by bit, what has brought me to this very point. I realized all these big open spaces within that I remember, now, when my friend Ann helped me organize the original move-in, we had set aside for just that -space... Plenty of space! So much so I bought a big new table, solid-heavy oak, at the thrift store for five bucks! What a steal! So now I have the start of a classroom within the Studio.

It is coming together stupendously, if I do say so myself. And now I think I will take a nap for a week! But NO! I am packing for FLORA's Workshop.

I keep tickling myself with overjoy that I am so blessed to meet HER, paint brush in hand! And darling Jenny Doh will be there tooooooo, ye-gads! (I wrote this story for Jenny's Art Saves project a year ago.) And I so wish I could tell you RIGHT NOW what I have been working on recently, but you will just have to wait and see. It is really special and I get all teared up and goosebumped in recognition of a big ol' dream blossoming wide and true. Cheers to happy hairs. You know:

Blessings and goodnight. xx

For Certain!

2011-03-28T08:46:00.000-07:00

Just a few weeks ago an entire series of workshops paraded into my awareness. One cannot teach what they do not already know. I have come a long way in embracing what comes easily and naturally to me. For a while I used to believe that if it wasn't challenging, and riddled with difficulties, it didn't count, same old same old. We are moving up again here at the Garagio. And are certainly enjoying more ease, play and delight, in large doses, more and more frequently!

I invite you to collage with us in a three part series, focusing on building collage through building the strength of your inner artist, using play, listening, breath, and curiosity. Not to mention the juicy and surprising scraps from your life!

Investment: $125
Dates: April 25, May 2 & 9. 6-8:30p
Where: Studio Lila, Evergreen
No experience necessary.

Class Outline
April 25
Learn to make gorgeous surfaces. Background/Under-painting. Texturizing and painting techniques.
May 2
All about snipping, ripping and gluing, we will collage our hearts out!
May 9
Taking our collage to the next level, finishing touches, blending, mark making....

Email me to register and to ask your questions. A detailed outline and supply and resource list will be sent out to you with receipt of your payment (holds your spot).

Making Peace.

2011-03-11T17:37:00.000-08:00

Omygolly. I am over the moon excited to attend this retreat (even if it is the abbreviated version)... And play all day long with this goddess beside the goddess who created this. Holy Cow.

Many times I have considered my non-formal (non-existant rather) art education, wondering what would be different about me if, instead of peering through microscopes and measuring precipitates to the sixth decimal point, I learned about painting and photo-making and printmaking and portraiture and and and. I will tell you this, I did take two classes regarding art in my Scientific college career and one I skipped through, acing (purely because of my scientific memorizing capabilities) and the other, well let's just say I got better grades in calculus and physics. Pause for my chuckling. I was so not ready to be me. Granted all I have EVER done in my spare time is paint and glue and scribble.
And now I am an enormous sponge, studying the masters from my growing library (mostly how they lived their lives, what they thought about...), reading every book I can get my hands on about technique and methods, and perusing blogs. And diving into any groovy class I can afford. I still paint and paint and paint. Only now I schedule my days around painting.
On another note, the other night I tripped stumbled and tumbled head first into an old habit, I promptly took my stiff self to a safe place to PRAGE (pray+rage=holy healing rage). After a foam batting session on my super-sized beanbag, I found my way back to my heart and declared this:

Lookout. The Tigress Lives between my breasts and I am looking the Goddess in the eye. Prage, folks. Clear that shit out on something stuffed, then go back to your man, your babies, your work and love them freely. I am making peace inside this house of me, my artist needs me clear and so does Egypt. How are you making peace?

Bright and sunny.

2011-03-10T15:56:00.000-08:00

Look who is blooming!

And dazzling

And I am intoxicated by the sunshine and the smell of spring. Painting feels so good. Sometimes when I am away from the studio, I forget how vital art making is to my soul.

And in honor of the paint gods, my tower of ecstasy:

In Action:

Its a good day. A real good day.
Blessings to you. R.

Falling Into.

2011-03-01T19:40:00.000-08:00

The garagio is SUCH a mess! I am so grateful for an enormous space to sprawl as I get ready for my next shows. Grand Opening at Kindness Yoga and Cafe, 1947 S. Broadway, Denver, March FIVE... Artwork by yours truly!

My word for the year is GENTLE. And wow! this year is doing its job to help me learn GENTLE. The astounding thing about gentle is it is so gentle, in its teachings, in its speaking, in actions. AND SO FREAKING POWERFUL. (wow!) And gratitude billows out from under her wings. (more wow!)

My bones are shifting, my teeth are moving, making space for gentle. She likes a different pace of life than I am accustomed to. She prefers fewer words with more reverie in them. When I remember to pause before I speak, she whispers to me. If I can stop the chain of worry, planning, fantasizing for even a second, she surprises me with delight and I giggle or tear up. Falling apart has never felt so good. Falling into Grace is more like it.

A Poem by the marvelous Ruth Gendler from The Book of Qualities.

"Joy
Joy drinks pure water. She has sat with the dying and attended may births. She denies nothing. She is in love with life, all of it, the sun and the rain and the rainbow. She rides horses at Half Moon Bay under the October moon. She climbs mountains. She sings in the hills. She jumps from the hot spring to the cold stream without hesitation.

Although Joy is spontaneous, she is immensely patient. She does not need to rush. She knows that there are obstacles on every path and that every moment is the perfect moment. She is not concerned with success or failure or how to make things permanent.

At times Joy is elusive --she seems to disappear even as we approach her. I see her standing on a ridge covered with oak trees, and suddenly the distance between us feels enormous. I am overwhelmed and wonder if the effort to reach her is worth it. Yet, she waits for us. Her desire to walk with us is as great as our longing to accompany her."

Love that. R.

Feeding Soul.

2011-02-23T11:10:00.000-08:00

Lately I have needed to slow way down. Slow provides me with the opportunity to see what feeds me and what upsets me. I have the opportunity (always) to let that which no longer serves the Light in my heart, go. I have the opportunity to choose and take my time choosing. What a blessing to live here, up in the slow mountains, away from earthquakes and wars. When I listen to the nudgings of my wise heart my inner body gets brighter and I feel a sense of satiation. So often in my life, unconsciously I looked for something or someone outside of me to affirm my goodness, to tell me they appreciate me, or I am worthy...   I am taking major strides in breaking that pattern these days and building my self worth. A few of my tricks?

     Meditate everyday, even for 5 minutes (or, even, ONE conscious breath -you know those days!).

     Read and listen to inspiring books and talks throughout my day. Current favs. listed at the end of    the post with links!

     Do a few yoga poses throughout my day

     Stay in touch. When I am feeling down and out and feel like crawling under a stump, I call my        friends.

     Give back. I find when I am tending to my own heart, I effortlessly give back through volunteering, simply listening, and offering my experience, strength, and hope when appropriate.

     A trick my BFF taught me: Meal planning. One day a week I plan out our meals for the entire week. Then I do one big shopping trip, easy-peasey.

     Take naps when I am tired. On that note, I go to bed by 10p. (Unless I am totally rocking it out in the garagio with my paint brushes and that has a different set of boundaries)

     Affirm my own goodness, regularly. I have a bunch of ways that work for me: Reading through old blog posts, gratitude lists, ecstatic poetry, inversions (head and handstand), getting outside, snuggling with bassets, laughing with my hub-buddy, and surround myself with friends.

*** And my newest, most daring trick?! Reminding myself that the Universe appreciates me. Go ahead! Blow my mind!

These are all ways for me to get back in touch with my own heart. When I am in that place in me and you are in that place in you, together we are all one. This is how we birth peace in ourselves first, and then the world.

Please share your soul shining strategies, I would love to hear from you!

Resources:
Meditation for the Love of it. Sally Kempton
Into the Vortex. Hicks
The inspired section on the left in this blog.
Unconditional Confidence. Pema Chodron
Wednesday Night Yoga with the incredible students in Evergreen.
Food, Jodie Cope

Spilling Up.

2011-02-21T20:34:00.000-08:00

Feeding soul
slaying doubt
wandering into new
breathing love
I eat it all up.
Into me the great sun of my life is born. Ten pencils deep. What if I release these monsters into sky? What if they are really cardinals? What if they are the link to the next land so close to here, yet beyond this ocean I know? What if I sweep my hand to the right and the scarecrows begin to dance? What if this long rest gives birth to the best part of me? What if this spill is really up? And what if I leaned into the back of me a thousand times today? What if I rest my head and think with my heart? What would my left shoulder tell me about the wind? and my big toes about the roots of trees? Who would I be with donkey ears or a lion's tail? My teeth are moving. Sometimes the bedrock is too thick to plant bulbs. And sometimes gentle sleeps.

It's rabbit season.

2011-02-19T16:42:00.000-08:00

More Rabbits. More Collage and so much fun.

Winged Rabbit, 18x24 Mixed Media on Canvas

Rabbit5, 8x10 Mixed Media on Canvas

Fantasies onto Paper.

2011-02-18T18:33:00.000-08:00

Ahhhh. I get it. I have taken a brief vacation from the studio and my mind and heart have filled with new ideas. I love swimming in the fantasy of what I could make, all the possibilities, the colors and scribbles, the etching and scratching. And then comes the time to go make art. All a vision is for me is fuel to get me into the studio, to pick up a brush and begin. I am in the space between, where visions are bright and the canvas is empty. It is daunting and borderline-terrifying to sit with these visions armed with a paint brush. Then it happens, one swipe across the cotton and I am transported to another land where pictures are broken into their bits -giggles and tears and jagged edges- where I am offered one piece at a time to apply to the art before me. Rarely (pretty much never) do any of the finished pieces resemble anything of the visions that dance through my head. This is perhaps the hardest part for my ego. Ego so wants to know exactly how things are to be and despises the ethereal wanderings necessary for me to make art. Fortunately my ego dissolves in the art making process. Unfortunately it rages before and after, doing its best to freeze me in my tracks. Oh well. Off I go. Pema Chodron says, "Leap into your fears." Pictures coming soon.

Art is when you hear a knocking from your soul - and you answer. ~Terri Guillemets

Leap.

More Collage!

2011-02-12T19:51:00.000-08:00

Bird Crow 9x12 on Paper


Sleep Peace, 9x12 on Paper

Prayer, 6x6 on Paper

I attended a workshop with the great Desiree Rumbaugh two weeks ago and my life has been shifting... I reached out to Uddhava and he gave me the Prayer on the left.

And a summary about the power of Thoracic Vertebra Twelve (T12):
Drawing into my solar plexus, to the back point where the upward and downward triangles meet, I landed in Robyn. The real Robyn, the one that is homogenous with God Stuff, effortlessly being Me. The one who is deserving and has talent to share and greatness in her bones and teeth. The one with leagues of courage to sing out, to paint out, to continue: whose story matters. I landed in witness and revery. And then I hurt. A different kind of hurt, with a deep knowing of the radical awakening taking place; my teeth were shifting. For the week following the spaces between all my bones ached at some point or another. My hunger was immense and my sleep sound. My inner body is rearranging by my intent to draw from periphery to core, through focal points to the center of my True Self, and from THAT place charge my legs and fingertips and offer Robyn.

In the bottom of my belly I had buried the seeds of my deepest anxieties. Internally and long ago I had unconsciously roped off the area just below my belly button to the tops of my femurs. The dark chasm. My thighs and buttocks grew wildly strong, over compensating for my middle disconnect. I believe we are given what we are ready to handle. It is time to unrope the gems that I believed for so long were monsters that would take me down. As I embrace these seeds they are blossoming, feeding me the real story of my goodness and worthiness and possibility. It is the great connect.

Collage Week.

2011-01-27T16:17:00.000-08:00

It is collage week.
A herd of wild horses rode into the studio today. (okay I saddled one!)

In Native American Folklore, "Black Stallion says: 'I am from the Void where Answer lives. Ride on my back and know the power of entering the Darkness and finding the Light.'" [Medicine Cards, Jamie Sams & David Carson]. Horses represent power.

Empowered to create, empowered to share, empowered to be ME.

Horse Collage2

Horse Collage1

I forgot how much I adore collage. It means covering myself in glue, working amongst shreds of paper, utilizing every tool or thing around me to scratch, etch and push paint around. Thoroughly satisfying. Misty Mawn's class is waking up my bones! xxx

New Stuff.

2011-01-23T08:01:00.000-08:00

I can't tell you how great my delight is in painting these little rabbits. Here is the latest:


Red Moon Rabbit

And in flow with my class, I have been drawing a groovy chair, repeatedly. And here it is painted:

Sit.

And Another:

Chair.

Drawing.

2011-01-11T20:23:00.000-08:00

The course I am in is aptly named, "Stretching Within." Our first week is all on drawing. I am truly stretching within for this. My penciled lines reveal volumes to me, much of which I find very challenging to witness. I am utterly uncomfortable, yet terribly satisfied. Strange. We started with an apple:

Then a photograph with added color

And finally a shaded self portrait...

Inadequacy Brought to the Light.

2011-01-08T19:40:00.000-08:00

This great lady shared this quote:

"The Universe will never leave you alone at such a time like this. Angels are all around you, as they gather without fail whenever a soul is seeking its wholeness. This is absolutely not the time to isolate; rather, despite whatever resistance you feel, allow yourself to join with at least one other human being..." -Marianne Williamson

In these times more than ever I review the teachings of great ones, reminding myself to focus on the Light, PERIOD. I read sacred texts, meditate, paint, journal, do yoga, and surround myself with healthy beings. Does this make the inadequacy magically disappear? No. What does it do? It surrounds me with the support I need to penetrate the very thing I am struggling with. In this act, I remember my enoughness. It is in remembering that my real power is restored, I build trust and the age old wound heals. I do not remember which round I am on with this, I do know that it is getting easier, these bouts are not lasting nearly as long nor are they as horrific as they once were.

I am utterly grateful for the brave ones in my life, for vulnerability, for realness, and for the voice of social media.

Grace holds us all,
Robyn

Bound Tears

2011-01-08T11:30:00.000-08:00

With her hanky
she bound
the velvet tears

voluptuous
secrets had
crowded her mind

the audience
-an urchin, a crow and three mice- gathered
on her paint brush

she held her breath
efforting
to burn the sky

Life Honey
rose within her
choking woolen ash

“you may not burn
your own violin
or ruby branch.

Close your eyes
gather their salt

a wild buffalo will
carry the ice
back to Jupiter

Return now,
baby doll,
with your lace and gravel

The cranes
await
your bellow and tress”


Wild Grace, Acrylic on Canvas 30x40.

Offering You.

2011-01-03T13:19:00.000-08:00

I come from bog and turtle
    the wide eye of rabbit

I come from a pink crab
    on the fire side    of the quarter moon

I come from a treasure
    on the junk floor

I come from a gold toad and a paint box
    one eye blue    one eye green

I come from Art
    offering You
        me.


Rabbit, 8x10 Acrylic on canvas.

Elephants!

2010-12-27T08:14:00.000-08:00

It all began with this piece:


Elephants, Mixed Media on Paper.

and then the finger paintings:


Elie 6x8

Elie 6x8

and finally the holy herd:


The Holy Herd, Guardians of my dreams. 16x20 Acrylic on paper.

Folklore:
Ganesha or Ganapati, the elephant headed god, is the remover of obstacles (also the placer of obstacles! -for our awakening), revered as Lord of Beginnings and Lord of Obstacles. God of wisdom and success! The goddess Indra would call upon the Grey Elephant to drive forth the monsoons, to bring in the clouds. Furthermore, from a Native American standpoint the elephant represents ancient power, wisdom, and royalty. Similar in sacredness to the American white buffalo.

Blessings.

2010-12-25T22:06:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas!

I read this today:
"If, as Herod, we fill our lives with things, and again with things; if we consider ourselves so unimportant that we must fill every moment of our lives with action, when will we have time to make the long slow journey across the desert as did the Magi? Or sit and watch the stars as did the shepherds? Or brood over the coming of the child as did Mary? For each one of us there is a desert to travel. A star to discover. And a being within ourselves to bring to life." -Author Unknown.

-You can bet your boots it will be painted and in print shortly.

My husband and I shared a quiet (totally holy!) holiday together with our bassets up here on our little mountain. I am learning the fine art of slowing down; of watching, of listening. Every so often I glimpse myself being graceful and kind, funny and confident. As I begin to recognize my own goodness, I see others' blossoming all around me. Gratitude charges forward, clearing my mind and my eyes, refreshing me and my life.

Something is brewing in me. My artist is up to something, scheming with the red moon, three rabbits and the buffalo I haven't yet painted, I suppose. This is all becoming quite familiar. A friend describes these times of no-thing-ness as peace. Peace sounds good, I just thought it would be more ... interesting (insert dramatic!).

This once drama queen is flip flopping her life. It must be like learning Chinese, having only spoken dog. Tongue-tied and fearless, nibbling pb cookies while laughing and losing game after game of checkers. What a stupid game and what an absolutely amazing holiday this has been.

With rosy cheeks of gratitude and a teary grin,
I send big love from my heart to yours, over and over and over again, in every color of the rainbow.
R.

Pausing in it.

2010-12-13T20:52:00.000-08:00

To sit in one's darkest corner, is not so bad. Because it too is me. A wise wise woman told me about a man who was in prison for 28 years and sat with his mind for a long long time and the tremendous peace he came to, just watching. Perhaps all it (the labeled "crazy parts") needs is our attention, our willingness to recognize patterns, and our courage to move on to the next thought. This has been true for me so far.

I will tell you a few things: right now I am raw, cut up, like a field fresh tilled, just before the hard frost of winter. Ouch, so open. Yes! so open. So open. With clear eyes, I rub and rub the grease from my mirror. I am seeing images of things, a child sputtering her first word. Another layer, rubbed away, hot from friction, melting of attention, revealing the Sparkle that has always been within the seemingly darkest place.

We are given our lives. To sit with what is, is perhaps the greatest gift we can offer ourselves.

Receiving.

2010-11-29T19:05:00.000-08:00

A dear friend summed up my story in one word: Receiving.

I am receiving. I think of the "receiving" areas in large warehouses/stores/hotels (I am in Chicago as I write this)with a large door that a big truck can pull up to an unload all the requested items any particular somebody has asked for.

I did not even know I had a receiving dock. This Chicago Show has asked a lot of me. The lot, in fact, that I have been hiding underground my whole life. Part of which is my receiving dock.

I am sitting in a fine hotel room, the size of my entire home, by myself; listening to the rain pelt the window and the steady, wet, squeal of traffic on I-290. A fish out of water is this girl in a big city. I am excited and terrified at once. Regardless, I have arrived in Chicago, with my trusty Jeep, jam-packed with my artwork, some apples and oranges, and plenty of chocolate. Truth: I totally adore a road trip. Truth: a nice hotel room to myself is a dreamy dreamy get-a-way. Truth: I am pinching my fishy self that this dream is in full bloom and I am really here, about to show my art to the mid-western land from which I am made. My maternal gram was from Chicago, and her mother -a fantastic dressmaker in this very city.

The question: I ask you why is it so terrifying to share our biggest gifts with the world? Is it the level of vulnerability, revealed, as we open our hearts and say, "Here, this is my very best"? I have reached a point where it is more painful to keep the artist contained than to reveal her. And bit by scrumptious bit She is teaching me who I really am. And by God, if I don't love her! It is so easy to be me, so hard to be someone else. It has taken me thirty years to dare to be me.

I have been studying painters and writers process' and I am brought to tears over and over again as I glimpse a similarity between myself and them: once embarked upon a story, poem, or painting, with the foundation lain, some Thing takes over; the story writes itself, the poem dances to its own beat and the painting knows exactly where it is taking the painter. This to me validates the artist within me, even the results that are far beyond me and my wildest imaginings. I have dug my way into myself. The gold mine of my own heart is made of the same stuff as yours'. We are not so different. As I receive the gift of my life, I open the door. I see Grace.

In gratitude-
R.

A Study of the Aftermath, Recovery from Showing Artwork. Part 1.

2010-11-21T20:32:00.000-08:00

A couple of weeks ago I sent out a request to bunches of art people I know and adore. I asked what they do after a show to recover. You see, I am very new to being a professional artist. I just wonder, do they teach self care to artists in grad school? I doubt it, as I certainly haven't experienced much self care in academia. I have been scouring over every book I can find and NOTHING. So me and my fearless self expression decided this one has my name on it and it is time we go public.

I am one week out from participating in the biggest art show I have ever even heard of much more attended... I am fully aware that shows rock my boat and a whole different sort of exhaustion drifts in like sudden fog. I also understand and totally value and love interacting with my audience. I am happy to say I have been napping a lot in preparation for Chicago. I intend to bring my eye pillow and ear plugs intending corner naps, with my brief breaks, during the show. Now I am getting ahead of myself.

From the generous responses I received, I was relieved. I am not alone.
I heard, many times over:

the excitement/disappointment (mania) leading up to and even during the show
the doubt and feeling like a complete poser (the brutal and mean inner critic) on the way to the show and after in the heavy-tired fog* see below.
busy show/slow show -regardless: exhaustion
wine or scotch, before, during, and/or after show
good food and lots of sleep following the show

*A few responses totally touched on this: the menacing inner critic that attempts to shred any sense of confidence and authenticity and self worth is by far the worst contender. I dislike even naming this, however, I know how my own skin softened back onto myself upon reading others' brave tales of this very danger.

When I am exhausted I am challenged in several major ways:

In my ego's eyes relaxation is about the most unproductive thing a human can do. -My ego tells me I am important when I am getting things done.
When tired the front door of me gets left wide open. I struggle with taking everything personally and feel bare naked on a very busy, important, high society street.
I am wound up with a mixture of excitement, exhilaration, one million ideas all at once, and/or disappointment (unworthiness), mistakes (guilt/shame).

I am learning to put my feet up immediately and ask for a hot meal in an hour. I take the next day or days off to multi-nap. I tell my critic to stop it, probably every other second (this in itself is exhausting). Mostly, I am granting myself permission to be very tired for as long as it takes to not be tired and accepting all of this as recovery. I pray a lot in doodles and scribbles. I forgive myself immediately and then forgive myself again, because I always manage to forget to be nice to myself. For this, I am catching myself more and more rapidly, interrupting the vicious cycle. Grace is always holding me and eventually She will be the one I recognize coming through my open front door. For now I have my yoga mat. I sit, settle back into my bones, and breathe, I practice challenging poses in the face of joy, I practice restoratives in the face of doubt, all of it leads me to the peace within my own heart. For this I feel extremely blessed.

And before I know it I am back, loving the process of painting, reviewing the in's and out's of the show, remembering why it is I paint. One artist described it beautifully: "After a show, I feel quite energized, which is such a contradiction to how I feel during it. I feel proud of my ability to face the fear and risk it. I feel I have grown and am inspired to create more, push myself. I am so incredibly honored to have people choose to hang my art in their house and make it part of their daily environment. I can't think of a bigger reward than making someone's space feel more like their own through the expression of art."

Comments welcome!

Nap-titude.

2010-11-15T15:23:00.000-08:00

I just wonder, as I delve more and more deeply into my artistic way, do all artists work really hard for a while (surfing the tidal wave of creativity) and then wash up on shore after, yet, another "best ride of their life"? And then have to nap an entire day (or more) to recover (with the flu being the flip side of continuing to paddle through the sand without a wave)? Writing it this way reveals to me the necessity AND oddity of the work of the heart. For the past three days a total party has rocked the garagio and me, OF COURSE I am blasted from it. OF COURSE my body aches, & my head is only beginning to put thoughts together enough to even begin to contemplate it. This is not societal norm. I read SARK's terrific book on napping in hopes of increasing my resting comfort and validating the essential-ness of rest.

I see now I am recognizing when to stop and rest. This is foreign to me. Also I see a foreboding storm of sickness looking through the window of me. I pull my fluffy covers up, resting, restoring the inner health of the house of my heart, in my best effort to keep the window shut. I am off to my seventh nap. I would love to hear your experience with this one... Please indulge me, I double-dog dare you. Resources are also requested! Nap angel photos coming soon. xo

Nothing helps me nap like these softly snoring babies. Oh! and the smell of a basset just waking from deep sleep must be only something a mother (and father) can love. For reals!

Fantastic Fridays

2010-11-12T10:05:00.000-08:00

My muse has been showing up (off!) loudly and with great flare on Fridays. MMMMMMmmm. I love that. I am working up a series of "Fearless", redefining it for myself AGAIN, and loving every mind- blowing-moment of it. The part I am cherishing this very moment is tinkering on the edge of the vortex, I am about to be entirely consumed by ARt fire, all my life goes into the deep cauldron, mixed and mixed, then coughed out onto any substrate, I loose all control and "the magic" works through me, every time, surprising me with a finished piece of which I have no preconceived notion. Only a few words, a sweet meditation, and weeks of gathering hint at the process to come. Knit blue helmet attached, power shawl on and off I go. I will report soon, stay tuned! May this be your best Friday yet!

And some pure Love for you:

Good News!

2010-10-29T19:42:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I received one of my favorite magazines (granted it is going through some growing pains) in my mailbox. I settled into it just before dinner, flipping through the pages, noticing the changes since the previous editor was in charge... And then I did a double take. There across my lap were two facing pages of Studio Lila art! It still just tickles me to consider that I got published and a story was written about me (somehow deduced from information I had submitted back in June) and I had no idea! Of course a big guffaw came out. I LIKE these good surprises! And even cooler is it was chosen as a lettering exemplar. And you must know how much I adore using my handwriting as a form of decoration. So.... tickled PINK again! Pictures coming soon. Thank you, Somerset Studio.

Go Into the Fear.

2010-10-28T10:13:00.000-07:00

Sally Kempton shares this on facing fear in meditation (or anywhere) from her beloved book, The Heart of Meditation:

"Rather than being afraid of your fear, you might see it as a signal that you need to take care of and reassure your small self. Then it will have an easier time integrating your expansion experiences. And it will let you move forward."

"The first thing to do with the fear is to name it. Sometimes I say to my fear, "Hello, fear. I know you are just my ego talking." This alone might be enough to dispel it...."

Go into your fear, Robyn. So frequently I catch myself caught up in worry and doubt, dancing around the fear. Once caught in the worry dance I now identify the activity for what it is, "Oh, I must be in fear." And then, "Fear of what?" Just chatting with my BFF, I commented on my improvement not looking or feeling like I imagined. This is my improvement: I go from being totally in the Flow, free, happy laughing, conscious of my own and others' boundaries to a highly contracted (fitful) state of worry and doubt and obsessing and back in Flow again. I say improvement because I am having more and more frequent experiences of Grace and Flow and Joy, that are lasting longer and longer. Simultaneously the fits are getting shorter and less potent! And this is what the all the yogic teachings promise us. They do not teach us that there will be no pain, no challenges, no difficulties. They promise us more serenity in facing life, more joy in everything with do. They promise we will always have a choice to suffer or to grow. It is my duty to make appropriate, skillful choices with the knowledge and experience I have; at this time. And that is something to delight in.

Sally offers this beautiful quote by Rainer Maria Rilke:
How could we forget those ancient myths,...
the myths about dragons that at the last moment are transformed into princesses? Perhaps all the dragons in our life are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love.

We found Her Heart!

2010-10-25T15:38:00.000-07:00

Garagio, OMy. Dear friends, and fancy interior juicifiers, Ann and baby Kate, came over for Hazelnut Tea Cakes and a marathon of moving, hanging, tweaking and adorning. The energy of this place is palpable. No, really, I am GULPING it down. This Garagio was born to be an art studio. Surely, because there just so happens to be a well spring of the juiciest inspiration and heart love mambo grace, EVER, in the middle of Garagio (We found her Her heART!). It just keeps getting bigger as we adorn Her. OMGOLLY. I am head over heels for Her. Here is the latest move in photos. From the very beginning to today! And what is next? Well, see the garage door? I get to insulate that next weekend. Then I suppose I will cover it in some glorious fabric. I plan to make luxurious and warm curtains as well. Oh and hang THREE chandeliers. Not to mention hiring an electrician for track lighting and outlets and and and. The reality is, She is already perfect and fully usable as is. I will plug along with Her as I can.

Abundance.

2010-10-21T08:18:00.000-07:00

We must get serious about taking ourselves lightly. -Julia Cameron

I am tickled pink. The sunlight in my new garagio brings me to tears. I can barely believe this is real. At first, as I posted, I was fearful, unwilling to see the good of this big move. Now, amidst a maze of stuffed boxes and towers of empty ones, I am finding my way in openness and Light. Revealing to myself the Light of my own being, the feverishness of my creativity, the readiness in my own soul for greatness and acceptance and luxury. A lake of gratitude falls from my mind, pours from my heart and bursts through high windows.

I thank this big world for supporting me as an artist and encouraging more. So I keep digging and polishing, I am deep in the mine of my ancestry, rummaging through what could not be seen before. I am certain I will visit here again and again, finding what needs to be found and shoveling away the rest. The treasures are in a big canvas sack, I am keeping on the sidelines. I am not sure what all it contains, I just feel their potential and the way my heart leaps when I hold them near. I will breathe on them a bit, take them with me through the winter. We will see. We will see.

Meanwhile I stretch and sip tea, and continue my work with great faith.

And here are several shots of the progress in the Garagio... Look at all that LIGHT!

Remember.

2010-10-18T15:45:00.000-07:00

This past weekend I had the exquisite opportunity to meet up with a handful of prominent and successful female artists from Evergreen. Are all towns full of quiet masterful artists? They seem to crawl out of the many crooks of the many mountains here. What these beauties had is decades of experience, highs and lows, and a full gamut of tricks. AND the world is so much richer because of their talent. I was so excited and nervous (about so many things in my life right now) I managed to forget that I am an artist a couple of weeks ago. And this Friday, hearing their stories and bashfully adding a few of mine, I realized we are cut from the same cloth. It wasn't immediate, for I was initially filled with intimidation and my shyness had me by the throat. Little by slowly I choked out some tidbits about me, laughing easier and falling in love with arting all over again. My heart feels tender at the pain of recognizing the self defeating habit of diminishing my talent & my success. I am SO over that. The amazing thing is, along my path as I declare what I am over, or what I no longer wish to do, or how I wish to be, the intention itself drives to the surface the incongruous places within me in perfect timing, dissolving the blockages. And the cycle continues, not circling but spiraling.

Then today, just when I had had it, I ran into a favorite friend, who said, "when you think things that hurt your own feelings you can honestly know that you are not that." In Sanskrit that practice is called "Neti, Neti" Meaning: Not this, not this. What a gift to be interrupted, to remember what is holy and good, over and over again.

Untangling.

2010-10-14T06:46:00.000-07:00

My HAIR! Last week it had all been just too much and I let my hair go. I couldn't stand to pick through the knots and spend all that time and effort and PAIN. So I would wash and go (BIG PONY). Then at the point of realizing I would either have to snip my hair off or gently get busy, I saturated my head in coconut oil. I spent the entire afternoon slowly brushing out the tangles. I could only stay with it for 10 minutes at a time and then I would go off to do something else (I think I was cooking soup and roasting vegetables and cleaning). I sectioned my hair off, and piece by piece I reclaimed my curls, s.l.o.w.l.y. This was a powerful lesson in gentleness. You see, all week I did not want to feel the ocean of feelings lapping at my knees. In avoiding the feelings, I avoided the present moment, spinning out with fear and worry about my tangles (among other o so important things!). As I combed, picked and pinned my greased hair, the sweetest childhood memory flooded my being: Age six, my mom was picking through my snarls with such gentleness, and calming me all the while with her care. I remembered the loving care another took of me, felt it fully and began to offer it to myself. Brushing my hair has taken on an entirely different flavor. Suddenly I was completely immersed in the warm ocean of my life. Thanks Mom.

Slowing slowing down. Snuggling into mySelf.

2010-10-03T13:45:00.000-07:00

Even though I do not think that my life looks THAT busy, I realize a lot is happening right now. Proof: For one, sitting up -gasping out of a lousy dream the other night, where the monsters were much too big in the dark, I could barely decipher dream from reality. So I sat up in bed, propped up my buns and turned my attention to mantra. Slicing through thoughts and images back to the center, setting myself free from the mental-turned-physical-roller-coaster-ride I had gotten on. Old habits die hard. I sweated it out with much effort to change my focus. I find Grace supports such effort; turning towards the Light.

For two, I am officially moving into a bigger, brighter studio by the end of the month. Any helpers out there? I am crazy excited. And I am realizing all these other emotions about leaving the Womb of Sparkles... I did an art journal piece on Ode to My Studio the other day which really helped me feel complete with my decision. I gathered together bunches of memories of how I have shifted through three years of arting plus four years massaging, deep in the heart of that goofy building. I scribed my gratitude in my paint splattered way, washing it with tears and hiccups.

And for three: In seeing what I don't want, I am recognizing what I do want. As simple as that. I want my time to be filled with laughter. I want simplicity in my working environment. Life is complex enough, our goodness is innate. I am only entertaining my ego when proving how much I can juggle in a day or lifetime. I now desire to entertain the gods with my playfulness, my joy and my kindness. I am very grateful that lessons are coming in much more gently these days. A friend reminded me, "Well, Robyn, you have been very committed to being more gentle with yourself, is it any wonder that your lessons are coming across more gently?" I cried upon this recognition. Tears and tears. They water; the growing dreams, the dreaming soul, a stream of gentleness to wash away doubt.

What I am learning? To stay with Grace. In Her flow it is much easier to move past limiting beliefs and habits. As I shared with a dear friend today upon her wildly successful and mind-blowing completion of an enormous dream, "Grace holds you". Grace holds all of us whether dreaming or bargaining, in anger, ignorance, exhaustion, in peace and joy. Can I remember to say yes to Grace? To dip my toe tips into Her smooth pond? and when I forget, can I be gentle enough to remember and allow myself to re-turn and re-turn again to Her? I am. Blessings and Gratitude to all you dear souls, willing to share your tears and truths and deep belly laughter. All is well.

Changing

2010-09-25T20:24:00.000-07:00

Hmmm. Decisions, decisions. I am considering converting my garage into a working studio, complete with a spacious shipping center, a loading dock (garage door), large windows, high ceiling, and infrared heating. What I am giving up: my magic pod of 7 years. A groovy downtown location. Away time from my house and husband. The stress of running a business out of two locations. Transit time. STAIRS! And the financial burden that was minimal yet is getting substantial as I add it up over the years.
It looks like the decision has been made. I am a bit heartsick over it. I ADORE my little womb of sparkles and yet for the last few months feel I have outgrown it. Today I had a chat with the Universe and asked for guidance with my business (a repeated theme...) we went for a great bike ride and this idea hit me over the head, I stopped biking, waited for my husband and presented the idea. Since then I have been re-presenting the idea to myself over and over again. It is so simple and makes such sense. I have no idea what this means, if I will have walls to make a nook in the garage or if I will have to look at all those ugly tools and stuff we have stored in there. I have no idea if the floor will be too cold or if I will go nutty working at home with my husband. I do know that I am good at discipline. I know I can make beauty out of a dumpster if I have to. I know that I want things to be simple. And I do know that recently things have felt entirely too complicated and I have spent less and less time at the studio and more time lugging the studio back and forth in bags and boxes (crazy making) while I market away at home on the computer... svaha (I offer it up to the sacred fire, sanskrit). So by November ONe. New studio, TBD.

Gentleness Decided to Give me a Lesson.

2010-09-23T08:27:00.000-07:00

The wind is cool and moist after a day of rain, finally!
Welcome FALL. I am ready. It was a brilliant summer, so bright, in fact, I was able to look into the places within myself that always scared me just too much. That is the absolute amazing thing about daring to penetrate that which scares us most. The fear dissolves the second we enter. The fear grows the more I stand on the outside of my life looking in, imagining the monster...

I find I am most vulnerable when I am tired. There is an acronym that I live by: H.A.L.T. reminding me to consider: if I am Hungry, Angry, Lonely, or Tired. It is best to take notice and tend to those aspects of myself first, before proceeding... Well, I am learning that, despite my best efforts, exhaustion can happen. What I hadn't recognized was that my own joy, doing what I love, can eventually wear me out too.

I had a show this past weekend and it was lovely and in my own studio. I was on for three days straight and it was invigorating, passionate, inspiring, funny, loving, exciting, successful: all good things. And then I crashed. I couldn't even read. I just stared into space, tired. Too tired to move. One would think the brain and ego would pass out too, but NOOOOOOO, my ego saw my exhaustion as a fat ripe chance to attempt to tear me down, to crumble my strong foundation, my success, my dream. And I had little if any energy to fight it. So what did I do? The very best thing I could possibly have done. I prayed and prayed and prayed, not frantically, as I had no energy for that kind of bargaining. I simply said, "Oh, God. Help me, show me how to get through this one." I went to bed. I woke up the next morning with a packed bag and drove a few hours south on one of the most intoxicating beautiful drives I have ever witnessed. I landed at Joyful Journey Hot Springs and soaked my nothingness back to life. I did nothing, I barely spoke. I slowly began to wiggle in the water, breathing bigger breaths. I napped and napped again. And, 18 hours later I drove home, slowly, along that breathtaking route.

Today is two days later and I am still not full tilt. I guess I have never been as aware of my tiredness (or maybe have never been this tired). Fortunately I have time right now to move at a snail's pace, to meander through my daily tasks in my favorite sweats and greasy hair. My ego doesn't like this either. Screw 'em. My heart is regaining its strength and this slowness is polishing this soul. Who knows how long it will take, or perhaps this is a new pulse for me. At first I worried, I'd turn into a whale, then a sloth. Then I got creative and realized I might just grow lanky with moonlit ocean eyes, and sprinkle mica flakes from cool skin. My smile may get deeper and wider. And my feet could grow the roots I always dreamed of.

I love being a Student!

2010-09-16T08:26:00.000-07:00

Last night I stayed up late with markers (NOT my favorite) and worksheets. I am participating in Carla Sonheim's Silliness 2 workshop. It is not too late if you want to join in. Her lessons have worked their way into my world and I can not tell you how much I have been growing from her amazing assignments. OF COURSE silliness=PLAY=LILA=connection with the DIVINE=ART.
I am psyched to have daily silly assignments. I look forward to sharing my doodles and marker messes and scribbles as the month goes on.

Meanwhile last night as I was coloring away with MARKERS (I repeat NOT my favorite) I remembered my 6th grade teacher telling me a lot of things. All these comments floated out of a locked cavern beneath my gut. I was hyper aware of not knowing how to color with marker, well let me rephrase that; believing I was no good at coloring with markers. Here it spilled into the open on a worksheet with upside down birds eaten by fish with and inside out sky. Let me tell you that in 4th grade I was astounded when I took FIRST place in a marker coloring competition and won twenty five dollars! So I was confused, baffled and highly disappointed when my bright masterpiece did not measure up to this teacher's standards in the 6th grade. And here were those feelings again (I am now in the 27th grade...). I kept coloring and a story about the creatures I adorned captivated me and my worries, updating my history with silliness and joy. I even found compassion for that teacher, who I now know has his own struggles...

You see that is the magic of art. It grabs me by my whole heart, turns the worries and the fears upside down and shakes them out like giggles (sometimes tears or screams or hurrays). Many times I resist engaging with my creativity and stay small by staring at my fears and imagining what could eat me next... When really I could just draw a goofy bird thing and ask it where it came from and follow it to a city in a sky and remember that the world is a glorious place with enough for all of us and a space for each of us to color however we color and make the craziest noses ever imagined BECAUSE that is exactly how they were meant to be and no one, I mean NO ONE, but me could have thought that up. It is in those moments I get to meet my deep Self, the shape of Her and the specific way of Her. If I am unwilling to step past my fears I will never know the way of Me. I know for a fact that I adore a woman or a man who knows the shape of Her/His lines (laugh, thighs, wrinkles, shortcomings and strengths) and humbly and joyfully and purposefully continues. That person smears courage across everything they touch. I wish to be this person.
And so I continue. And need you to continue too. We are all in this together, fueling one another, bouncing with clouds and fire, experiments and mistakes, all of it; offerings. All of it matters.

Gentleness invites me to Celebrate!

2010-09-13T12:05:00.000-07:00

Gentleness. Who knew she is ferocious? Who knew she has a voice like a cool stream? Who knew she would change my life in just one glance? Yup, that is all it took. I asked the Universe to, "Help me be kind to myself," as I was digging into the darkest spot of me yet. Now it is a mantra. As I chant it doors are flinging open, within me and the life I am living; parts are yearning to be seen with soft eyes, to be held, to be laughed out. And so it is. An enormous invitation by Gentle, Herself, to celebrate every bit of this gracious and bold life.

What has surfaced? LOVE. Spaciousness. the delectable scrumptious pause. Receiving is giving. the moment I take it all in, it infuses all I touch and breath and think. so potent is peace.

What is Gentleness? It is a practice. A way of being. For me, pausing and breathing and praying moves my ego just enough to the left that the Divine has enough space to scoot through and blast Herself into my life, onto canvas, into conversation, and hand holding. Grace leads the way and my ego has to take the passenger seat. Discipline is the practice of whatever I do to hold myself steady to Grace which primarily means: stop engaging with the thoughts that diminish my Light. Furthermore, to be able to recognize these "baited hooks" I am learning to see my thoughts for what they are, writing them down (especially the ones that are eating me alive that I absolutely wanted to refuse to put in my hand writing.) and POOF. I see them. Suddenly I have a choice to follow them or not (freedom). Today I am committed to Gentle. So I turn to Her, again and again and again, letting the thoughts that lead elsewhere drop and Gentle expands.

Tonight my husband and I are eating ribs and peach pie. We are dressing up for our own little party to celebrate each other and all that has transpired over the last couple of months. Who knew Gentleness likes to party?!

Garden Garden Garden

2010-08-27T21:53:00.001-07:00

This is the building of the latest garden, my summer project of passion. I planted by full moonlight in late June. And just this week one of my little rose bushes exploded with orange blooms. Next on the list: a wooden greenhouse 6x8 to sit just beyond the flagstone patio (most of the flagstone is PURPLE with golden waves -omg!) AND a big reclaimed wooden two door gate for the driveway. Oh I am deliriously happy about all this! Come over and we can sip sweet tea in the sun amongst the humming birds and sky...

Going Into.

2010-08-27T21:25:00.000-07:00

Into. Gone. Going Into. She climbed deep inside, sifting through the smallest pebbles that colored her eyes and purified her tears. She allowed all of it to be just as it was intended and in that moment she recognized the large ocean of joy that began near the back side of her knees. It lapped at her every breath calling her to dive in, dive in.

Tonight I held an open studio show revealing all these faces. Thank you to all the lovelies who stopped in and continue to collect my work. It is a pleasure and honor to have guests in my studio and to share my art-heart with you. I am loving Modigliani and am about to flirt with Chagall again.

Meanwhile, check out Horseshoe Craft and Flea Market blog . They interviewed me and Studio Lila for Q&A Thursday. The market is set for Oct. 2 in DENVER: details on website. TONS of amazing art. I am so excited to participate.

I hope your weekend is everything your dreaming of.
R.

Putting the Artist to work.

2010-08-09T11:51:00.000-07:00

In the studio this morning I became blazingly aware that now is the time for my creative juices to paint me up a business plan. So I headed home with a pocket full of prayers, my favorite black book and pen. I crawled on the couch with my lazy basset and a chunk of chocolate and started answering 8000 questions. I figure the more uncomfortable these q's make me the more significant they are for me to deeply examine. How is it that a girl with a Bio major, Chem minor, all those years of calc and physics, and measuring things to the sixth decimal point can get so freaking frozen in front of a marketing plan and cash flow sheet regarding the art she is pumping into the world? What is it that scares me? Obviously this whole thing is working or I wouldn't need more money to expand the business. hmmm. Pray for me will ya?!

Even Now.

2010-08-06T09:22:00.000-07:00

A message from Starlight.

Divine Intervention... Circumstances are interrupting our ordinary in such a way for a great awakening, the most radical shifting to date. Interrupting the ego in the way only God can. You will know when this happens: you will get sweaty and uncomfortable all over. Your lips will not feel as if they belong to you and it feels impossible to love anything. See this as the threshold and enter your body, enter your life and surrender. The wild flow of grace will carry you beyond your own life and into your lush greatness. Surrender and then laugh, laugh your way into your new eyes, into steady, into a more fabulous connection with Source within you. "The Universe constantly reinvests herself in you" says Douglas Brooks. Even now, even now, even now...

Tears and Receiving and Stretching and Being

2010-08-04T10:44:00.000-07:00

Two days ago I proclaimed I was mad at God. Things were not going exactly as I had imagined. At approximately 4:44 pm yesterday, in the midst of a watsu session, with neighbor and fellow yogi, Susan Lange, I resurfaced, laughing, and declared I was no longer mad at God.
With my new perspective I am slowly realizing that things are going better than I could ever imagine. It just looks different than those darn expectations I had. Svaha I offer it up to the sacred fire.
Tama Kieves, one of my favorite newsletter writers, offered this quote: Brother David Stendl Ross said "The answer to exhaustion is not rest. It's wholeheartedness." It hit me square across the nose. My tendency is to close down after really stretching my soul, thinking I am tired. Can I rest and stay connected to Source? Yes. I just forgot. Can I find gratitude even when my circumstance does not match my expectations? Yes even grudgingly.

And these tears. These good good tears. I don't know what they are all for or from. I figure it is like a good sweat from all the soul growth I am doing. I get shinier from their gentle and sometimes shaking release. I like the way they land on things and the way they travel as I laugh. I feel old layers of dried up habits sloughing off in their humid presence. I feel the new ways nourished from the salt of God water from my own eyes. I am a water baby after all, perhaps I carry with me my own ocean for diving and dreaming.

A new goddess has blessed my alter. She is fresh from water, spilling peace cranes. I love her. She comes from a sweet sweet studio near our cottage in Wisconsin: Circle of Life Studio

plowing and praying.

2010-07-24T20:37:00.000-07:00

By Svoboda

Whoever you may be, and wherever you may live, you live your life well when you live it at the right rate. Plow your way through life and life will wear you out; poke your way along and your life will grind to a halt. Find a pace that suits you, though, and amble along it accordingly, and your world will spontaneously level a path for you.

Hmmm. I thought we were to plow and pray. Things are shifting and I have decided to wear my dancing shoes daily now, as my life has taken up this new beat, wild and swingin. I am learning to catch my own enthusiasm and risk failing. What is failing anyway and who CARES!? Let's go bigger than ever folks. I am headed to Cali, to strut some color in my dancin' shoes. Jeep is filled to the brim with love in every color.
Here's to plowin' and prayin' on the path of your life, may we dance and fling, laughing with soft eyes and loving all of it.
I will be back later in August. Get ready for the faces show at Studio Lila. Meet in person all the buggars that live in the wildness between my ears.
Blessings,
Robyn

Lately and a Poem

2010-06-30T09:28:00.000-07:00

having lost my trusty mac (to robbers), circumstances continually reveal more lost things. Which continually calls me to be present to this moment, all that goes into it and then to keep loving myself and accepting myself, and situation, as I reorganize, recreate, and mostly, let gooooooooo.

I attended Katie Kendricks workshop on friday. What a lovely lovely teacher and artist she is.
Pix coming soon.

The rose garden is creating quite the buzz in the neighborhood. Even the big black bear has been by. They are all calling me Rosy. hmmmm. Plugging along with moss rock after moss rock. between filling out application for one show after another. Meanwhile I am all geeked up for Wanderlust, Squaw Valley, CA (July 29-Aug 1). and a quick show July 22-25 in Evergreen. I think I am in for the Chicago Show just before christmas! And I have partnered with a terrific new rep. Huge movement, then I go back to the garden and slowly haul the big rocks from the deep green and yellow acres behind the house. I sing to them, we get along just fine.

we are about to leave for the Lakes. I have packed the MOST delicious art supplies. I can't wait to go make art instead of plans!

And a Robyn poem, fresh from my garden:

A boulder is more
fixed
in my left thigh
than
my right breast

He laughs:
Rock Lady, Rock Lady

The thunder
cracks
open
the hard nuggets
of discarded
dreams

All along the
dusty street
the bears
steal
from
the sparrows

and
I
don't know
who
to feed

I hunt moss boulders
singing before
the kill
the sparrows
are with me

the earth
is much bigger
than my brain
I tend Her rocks

and She
holds
dreams

calling all animals
to the greenest leaves
always feeding
offering shade

we grow side by long
steady
and certain
the moss
creeps for
a hundred
years

barely breathing
for a young
woman's
garden

Digging in

2010-06-14T16:43:00.000-07:00

Digging in.
I got broken into. Douglas Brooks says, "we are never not broken.."

It is the desire to be something other than I am that causes the most suffering.
I got broken... into... my true nature. When are we ever not broken? This time some deep attachments were cracked open by a robber, snatching up what would fetch them maybe a thousand bucks ( I would have paid more to have my stuff back...) . This robber perhaps has given me the greatest blessing of my life. They took what I thought were my dearest possessions. And I sit with what is really left; My Light shines within and and without Om namah shivaya gurave.. and is still shining. Nishprapancaya Tejase.. THEY cannot take your Light. ever.

I have begun a rose garden. Those mighty roses, fragrant and daring, velvet skin grown from dry air and hot, decomposing granite, bearing thorns and knobby joints. I wish to tend to the skeleton of my dreams, her fullness and the Truths that make her. Part of me wishes to live with the roses, their fragrance an ever reminder of Real and those thorns a reminder of intelligence and maturity.

Acceptance, learning to be all of it, the thorns the fragrance and the velvet leaves.
To risk my buds in the face of young elk. To last a little longer in a hot wind, knowing it adds sharpness to my thorns and richness to my scent. To fully realize the purpose of loveliness, the sharp, the dry, the rich, the rough and the potent. To live for beauty and equality amongst the trees. To serve and serve and serve. Each leaf an offering. Each petal a feast for the gods. Holy ground a garden is. We dig holes daily, sometimes our whole self crawls in, the roses and the clouds look over us, until we climb back out, a fresh bud, offering ourselves to the sky.

Does a rose ache, ever? Is it cooled by its own loveliness
and does it realizes it cools my aches just by living?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

The bud
stands for all things,
even for those things that don't flower,
for everything flowers, from within, of self-blessing;
though sometimes it is necessary
to reteach a thing its loveliness,
to put a hand on its brow
of the flower
and retell it in words and in touch
it is lovely
until it flowers again from within, of self-blessing...
-gallway kinnell

Watching Trees

2010-05-31T14:49:00.000-07:00

Her name is Olive
and she is part Starlight
She lives within me

To know her
I must
slow down
sit close
and share breath

She is not my child
or my mother
She is another me
and she is hungry

A hungry soul within a soul
left on a park bench
I sit with her
on Thursday afternoons

She is frail
part of two grandmothers
and tall oak
The nut hatches adore her

She has much to teach me
the first is pace
and the fifth is a
different thirst

Is it my eyes that are
so thin?

The second is together
and the sixth
is underfed

Three weeks ago
she was a sheet
wet and dripping

Wrung out with a twist
of dream-
Olive sits with me
feeding me my truth
on a bench
in my soul

Growing the Business

2010-05-27T09:26:00.000-07:00

Studio Lila is growing! I am looking for and desire a mentor in the greeting card industry, please contact me with possibilities. I am LEAPing into a deeper expression of providing examples and tools for fearless self expression and delectable living. In the Bhagavad Gita, Krishna tells Arjuna, (2.47) Your right is to action alone; never to its fruits at any time. Never should the fruits of action be your motive; never let there be attachment to inaction in you.
and Mother Theresa beautifully declared: The purpose of life is not to be successful, rather it is to be faithful.
Of course there are a bazillion ways to interpret that (or are there?). How I see it is: My duty, (read purpose) is to serve the Light and its precious and unique way it craves to be expressed by Robyn P. Thayer. There is only one of me, there is only now, and this lifetime for my particular expression of Light to be uncovered, nourished and offered. This is service. It is my greatest desire to make of my life an offering by serving the Light within. Part of a new series I am creating reads:

The world needs your talent; your celebration.
-She heard it one day in a song that needed one more voice. She began singing and a complete joy filed her to the brim.

There is space for all of us and a need for our individual expression. Together we make up the whole. We must hold tightly to hand of the Divine, remembering the WHY of our existence is to serve the Light. In that action all else takes care of itself and we are shown the way and our life becomes, naturally and of its own fruition; and offering.

So I am headed to the SBA for a loan. To grow this dream, to offer it more fully. Seed money. I just planted thyme, basil, oregano, and mache. More seeds. Brave ones, daring to sprout and perhaps with proper nurturing and enough sun, offer their savory fragrance fearlessly and generously to all who come near.

May the soft spring lift your chin, and tend your seeds, and into her generous palm, may you fearlessly scatter your dreams.
With you in growing,
Robyn

2010-05-10T18:54:00.000-07:00

Hello Tenderest One
You carry the Light of all the stars
the trill of 2 thousand humming birds
and the delicacy of a golden web

Let's reconsider tender-
fierce beauty
in raw form

She stands before you
in a room of strangers
laughing
grace moves her hands

she knows the shape of silence
and carves it with each
gesture
swallowing whole guard dogs and the gates that hold them back

a riddle of joy
7 billion flavors of happy
tidal waves on a small lake
glistening with the wrestled sun
glimpsing rainbow trout
ready for summer

You tell me
to roar and I
eat figs
by the fire
ready for summer

Too many pine needles
have landed on the rocks outside my door
I sweep to the sound of thunder
praying with my tongue

To the father of gratitude
who writes with clouds
in rain and stars in the sun
the tender of dreams

She's Back

2010-04-30T10:09:00.000-07:00

Dear Friends,
Recently I traveled to the Southern Caribbean in Costa Rica. Deep into the center of my jungle soul I ventured.
I soaked in the warm waters of Mar Caribe, played in the waves and sand and rekindled my relationship to my Higher Self. I watched ants and monkeys and lizards and crabs. I saw what I did not want to see; tarantulas, snakes, big cricket things and other spiders much larger than my hand. I did a whole lot of nothing, which in fact is everything. I slowed down and listened to the whispers of the cocoa and ylang ylang, encouraging me deeper into my Self.
And now I am back, in more ways than I ever imagined. Something happened to my tongue in humid Central America. It woke up. Spanish called it to life and the jungle swallowed my armor. I molted years of fear from my life that had crusted over my voice and vision.
Gradually I have reentered my studio, picked up my paint brush and initiated two more canvases.
On May 7th I step up to the duty of becoming myself. I am daring to read aloud my poems from the womb of sparkles at my own art show. The poems are the partners to my painting process. I have not one without the other. Costa Rica woke up my tongue, my heart swelled and is pouring through my teeth. It is my honor to share these poems with all who care to listen. Om Time Denver, 773 Santa Fe Drive, 7:30p

I did not travel completely ALONE, as the source of the Universe was blindingly, drippingly, with me in every breath, and dearest Mary Oliver. Every solo adventure I make I take a book of her poems with me and she NEVER lets me down.

For You.

I Want to Write Something So Simply
-Mary Oliver

I want to write something
so simply
about love
or about pain
that even
as you are reading
you feel it
and as you read
you keep feeling it
and though it may be my story
it will be common,
though it will be singular
it will be known to you
so that by the end
you will think---
no, you will realize---
that it was all the while
yourself rearranging the words,
that is was all the time
words that you yourself,
out of your own heart
had been saying.

Blessings to you.
Robyn

2010-04-22T08:39:00.000-07:00

Heart is full
Skin is kissed
over and over again by sun and waves
laughing with dogs and
dreaming with monkeys
Sleeping with tarantulas and
listening for the breath within the breath

for there SHE lives
unstoppable
Starlight
I remember
and carry with me
a poem in this world
a pranam in another

A poem.

2010-04-11T20:10:00.001-07:00

God Says Yes to Me

I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic
and she said yes
I asked her if it was okay to be short
and she said it sure is
I asked her if I could wear nail polish
or not wear nail polish
and she said honey
she calls me that sometimes
she said you can do just exactly
what you want to
Thanks God I said
And is it even okay if I don't paragraph
my letters
Sweetcakes God said
who knows where she picked that up
what I'm telling you is
Yes Yes Yes

- Kaylin Haught

And Another!

2010-03-31T12:50:00.001-07:00

The Path of Now
36x48
Acrylic on Canvas

Introducing

2010-03-31T10:58:00.001-07:00

Ride Into Now
48x60
Acrylic on Canvas

Coming Along

2010-03-19T21:32:00.000-07:00

Look who is coming along in the studio.... I can't wait to see what she morphs into.
48x60 Acrylic on canvas

2010-03-15T19:38:00.000-07:00

It has been utterly explosive in my studio the last few weeks. No time for stopping, that is the GREATEST thing about having a private studio... I get to clean up when the project is finished and no sooner! I am soooooo grateful! The womb of sparkles is positively Rockin!

Double Dog DAre YOU!

2010-03-13T13:31:00.000-08:00

Write a story/poem about your life and post it below as a comment with your email address and you will be entered to win an original painting! All entries must be posted by March 20, 2010, 12am MST.

THEME: Fearless Expression.
Run with it. I am hungry for stories and daring. :)

Art Saves!

2010-03-08T07:07:00.001-08:00

A story in color and words for CrescenDoh. Read it here. Jenny Doh, former Editor in Chief of Somerset Studio Magazines, has launched this amazing organization... I am thrilled an honored to be a part of it!

All this story writing has worked its magic on me! Please share your story/poem here as a comment with your email and be entered to win an original painting! Drawing held March 20, 2010, 12am MST. xoxo

Your Questions, My Answers!

2010-02-22T19:35:00.000-08:00

To answer some questions...

Q. How did you get started?

A. My mother drew countless clown faces for me to color. One after another I fell deeply, madly in love with color. My gramma Thelma was a great crafter. She taught me as much as her long fingers and gorgeous heart could cram into an overnight. Crafting was always encouraged in our house. My mother is an amazing artist and made sure I had plenty of supplies and rides home from after school arting. Other than that, art was just there. I was a doodler, a dabbler, and made everything as bright as I could. It has been through endless encouragement from family and friends that I pursued my art as a career.

Q. Do I recommend starting with an art class?

A. I recommend starting with what you love, PERIOD. If you love tearing things to shreds then weaving or sewing them together, OR covering an entire surface with dreamy watercolor and watching it run from side to side, OR dumping feathers and newspaper and tissues and paint on a canvas, then, just before it dries, sweeping, scraping and peeling it free, so be it. Begin. The rapture will draw you further into your expression; what is to be expressed. I am just now beginning to study techniques. I find that most techniques emerge organically, as necessary, to facilitate what our hearts are trying to tell us. If you are stuck, a class is a terrific way to get moving again. It is also an excellent way to join forces with other artists and catch some courage.

Q. Do I teach?

A. I do. Currently I am teaching card making classes and a journal making class with a writing component. I also teach yoga. I am looking forward to combining the two for participants, offering a most exceptional arting experience!

Q. Advice for the creatively hungry but stuck?

A. Meditate. Sort out how you spend your time and energy and see what you can shave off, to carve out some time just for you. Begin to nurture yourself by giving yourself some attention: learn what you like to do and begin doing it. When we are in the space of enjoyment, inspiration surges and we tap into our true nature... from there anything is possible.

I love books. A few of the hundreds that have inspired me:

1. Creating a Life Worth Living by Carol Lloyd
2. Spilling Open by Sabrina Ward Harrison
3. Taking Flight by Kelly Rae Roberts
4. Somerset Magazines
5. Eat Love Pray by Elizabeth Gilbert
6. The Success Principles by Jack Canfield
7. The Hundredth Woman by Kate Green
8. poems by Hafiz
9. Discipline of Yoga by Guru Mayi Chidvilasananda
10. Living your Yoga by Judith Lasater
11. The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron
12. Grace and Grit by Ken Wilber
13. anything by SARK

Thank you, Readers, for your great questions.

Poetry, a Homecoming of Self to Skin

2010-02-20T16:02:00.001-08:00

Years ago an extraordinary man said something to me, that forever changed my life.
With no foundation to stand upon I was lost. And time, as it does, was testing me, splitting me open, so I could begin to see my Self; a glimmer, a shard - a something, -anything.

Extraordinary in that his words to me were matter of fact and monotone, so ordinary that I HEARD him. It was 1999, I was failing endocrinology, my brain had stopped working -so consumed with the current tragedy in my life. He was the head of Endocrinology in the Med. School. He gave me permission, in the face of academia, to take time off and READ POETRY.

I had never really thought about poetry besides the Wild Things poem I memorized in sixth grade. So my quest began. I started a poetry club immediately. We met EVERY Thursday at 8am, to read poems. Poetry crawled into my ears and up my nose, through my pores and into my stone heart as I wept out many unnamed sorrows. Like a rope to save my life, poetry was offered to me; I crawled up from my despair, one stanza at a time.

In 2008, I found the Marvelous Judyth Hill and for the first time I consciously attempted to write poetry. I learned I have been writing poetry for a long long time now. Through Judyth's brilliant teachings, she taught me about the sacredness of one's voice, that words of the heart need to be written and shared, and are not to be taken for granted. She spoke of poems writing themselves through us and the necessity of showing up for the sake of the poem.

I started showing up for the "sake of the poem"; funny thing I learned, a poem is ALWAYS there, waiting for me to show up. And Boy, does it have VOLUMES to tell me. That is the thing about poetry, it comes out in a language that my heart recognizes immediately; it wakes up what has been latent for lifetimes. The homecoming began, returning of Self to skin.
Welcome Self.

A poem for you by the great Federick Garcia Lorca:

Little Infinite Poem

To take the wrong road
is to arrive at the snow.
and to arrive at the snow
is to get down on all fours for twenty centuries and eat the
grasses of the cemeteries.

To take the wrong road
is to arrive at woman,
woman who isn't afraid of light,
woman who murders two roosters in one second,
light which isn't afraid of roosters,
and roosters who don't know how to sing on top of the
snow.

But if the snow truly takes the wrong road,
then it might meet the southern wind,
and since the air cares nothing for groans,
we will have to get down on all fours again and eat the
grasses of the cemeteries.

I saw two mournful wheatheads made of wax
burying a countryside of volcanoes;
and I saw two insane little boys who wept as they leaned on
a murderer's eyeballs.

But two has never been a number--
because it's only an anguish and its shadow,
it's only a guitar where love feels how hopeless it is,
it's the proof of someone else's infinity,
and the walls around a dead man,
and the scourging of a new resurrection that will never end.
Dead people hat the number two.
but the number two makes women drop off to sleep,
and since women are afraid of light,
light shudders when it has to face the roosters,
and since all roosters know is how to fly over the snow
we will have to get down on all fours and eat the grasses of
the cemeteries forever. (January 10, 1930)

Fearless and Bright

mmm. mmm. Monday.

Finding my Way.

The Power of Play.

Getting Messier.

Moodling.

Flow.

Sculpting Belly

A poem I am loving.

one hundred million tears - a poem.

Yum.

A year's end.

Well well well, continued.

We shake with joy, we shake with grief.What a time they have, these twohoused as they are in the same body.-Mary Oliver-

Well well well.

Perfectionism uncovered.

Idea Pantry

Must DO THIS.

Sculpture.

Staying With the Creative Force.

Thankful.

On Staying Inspired.

Beauty Making.

Snow Storm Granola.

Pregnancy and Art Making.

Sewing.

Mother Love.

Printed Clothing

Inspired by...

Inspired by...

Summer Review!

Growing into again.

Summer Break!

Intuitive wandering into BIRD.

Allowance

Celebrate

Teaching and teachers.

I am happy.

North.

My Muse Likes it Sweet.

O the Goodness.

Workshops!

Cracked Open.

O efff.

Discernment.

INdulgence.

Happy hair.

For Certain!

Making Peace.

Bright and sunny.

Falling Into.

Feeding Soul.

Spilling Up.

It's rabbit season.

Fantasies onto Paper.

More Collage!

Collage Week.

New Stuff.

Drawing.

Inadequacy Brought to the Light.

Bound Tears

Offering You.

Elephants!

Blessings.

Pausing in it.

Receiving.

A Study of the Aftermath, Recovery from Showing Artwork. Part 1.

Nap-titude.

Fantastic Fridays

Good News!

Go Into the Fear.

We found Her Heart!

Abundance.

Remember.

Untangling.

Slowing slowing down. Snuggling into mySelf.

Changing

Gentleness Decided to Give me a Lesson.

I love being a Student!

Gentleness invites me to Celebrate!

We shake with joy, we shake with grief.
What a time they have, these two
housed as they are in the same body.
-Mary Oliver-