"Faery places, faery things, faery woods, where the wild bee wings..." ~ Robert Louis Stevenson

Dreams are left on my cheeks as my eyes flutter like faery dreams of pretty things and light...

Enjoy your trip into the land of leftovers and triptophan and I send you sweet dreams of all the pretty faery things...

Happy Thanksgiving!!!!

I am thankful and "this is my simple religion. There is no need for temples; no need for complicated philosophy. Our own brain, our own heart is our temple; the philosophy is kindness." ~ 1989 Noble Peace Prize winner, The Dalai lama

Thoughts of thanks dangle off my lapel with swirls from the unknown. Do I recognize them when they fall into my lap? or do I brush them off, idly, unknowing, not understanding, the temple, the feast, that is the mind? "All our words are but crumbs that fall down from the feast of the mind." ~ Kahlil Gibran

But, "the temple of our purest thoughts is silence." Thankful to have the uninterrupted song of children, the discussions of the virtues of Stratocaster versus Schecter or his Peavey Raptor with my almost 13 year old son; the New Moon song of Paris, Romeo, Jacob, Edward, Juliet and Bella strangely lilting and melancholic in the van drive home with darling daughter; the laughter, oh the laughter and thoughtful Tales of Despereaux again with a golden-hearted boy and the joyous jumps of a three year old's sweet wisdom. But, the white silence, now that is the dance of thanks and the music of the spheres for me. The mind, balancing both is the whole, for what would be a melody without the silence in the in between?

(Stratocaster Guitar Tree of Life by Doug Rowell)

"Those who live passionately teach us how to love. Those who love passionately teach us how to live." ~ Sarah Ban Breathnach

Distractions and thanks... I spent the week choosing only distraction. I went for long walks down a favorite country road that is not necessarily idyllic in scenery, but, well, there is something silent there; completely free with a breath and a silent music in the air. My oldest son is going on thirteen and his fingers know a guitar like an extension of who he is, so we sat and he played and we listened to him and to my favorite guitarist, Synester Gates from Avenged Sevenfold and watched Synester understand joy in the music video, "Afterlife." Have you sat under a tree and watched it sway joyous and subtle with a breeze as it lets the light filter in? That is what it is like to watch Synester Gates play guitar. Greenday, Good Charlotte, and Blink 182 from my past are just a few of the many bands I have to share with my beautiful son. So these times filled my heart with distractions and gratitude. I shared a "New Moon" and Starbucks with my daughter who is light and shines brighter after time spent with Mama. We can look at eachother at the same time and burst out laughing because it reminded us both of a scene from our Gilmore Girl marathons. Inside jokes where only we see the light. Smiling right now, just remembering. "I laugh, my voice spiraling into Forever for I have found perfection and it has always been right here in the temple of Self." ~ Miranda Padgett My third child, Gabriel, is one of those essential ones. He is the heart of the family because he is so selfless and giving he fills all voids with his smiles as we cut vegetables together in happy silence and I tickle his sweet toes while we read, The Tale of Despereaux again. Ahh... nine years of Gabe is a good thing. My fourth child and third boy is three as some of you know, and well, he sparkles with the look of a calm stream on a crisp summer morning and when recently some kids weren't nice to Gabe and I was angry at their cruelty, Nate in all his 3 year old wisdom, patted my hand and said, "Take a deep breath, Mama." He is a beautiful reflection of me I am told, (after relaying this story,) because I am rarely angered and I guess I calm people easily LOL. Thanks for the compliment friend. So, Nate, thanks for learning at my knee and giving and teaching, as well.

"Most new discoveries are suddenly-seen things that were always there." ~ Susanne K. Langer

Grateful for my remarkably loving and intelligent parents who knew, "Sometimes good-bye is a second chance." and let this Ramone's loving 16 year old live on her own a thousand miles away from anyone I knew, except "the soul mate" and finish high school and go to college as if it was all written and understood somewhere that Amy always lands on her feet. "The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible." Right Mom?? You were beautiful to trust me. (Quote by Vladimir Nabokov) Grateful to "soul mate" for his one eye blue and one brown for helping me see the gorgeous infinity in the balance of light and dark. I will always jump on your Harley and just go with you... Thanks for being a determined 17 year old and riding 25 miles here and 25 miles back on your twelve speed bike to see me each day that summer.

Grateful to my children sharing their light and balancing out the beautiful night like twinkling stars in the deep dark tapestry. Those walking by always want to know why we are always laughing, and what do we say? "Because life is fun! If you are wearing the right specs!!!"

(My oldest, on guitar)

Here is a story of the temple of the mind, the time to come back from an afterlife, an inbetween. What would you have to say to the world rising up through the ashes after 23 years in your temple? "For 23 years Rom Houben was trapped in his own body, unable to communicate with his doctors and family. They presumed he was in a vegetative state following a near-fatal car crash in 1983. But, then doctors used a state-of-the-art scanning system on the brain of the martial arts enthusiast, which showed the brain was functioning almost normally. "I had dreamed myself away," said Houben, now 46, whose real "state" was discovered three years ago and has just been made public by the doctor who rescued him. Steven Laureys, a neurologist at the University of Liege in Belgium, has published a scientific paper saying Houben could be one of many falsely diagnosed coma cases around the world. Houben is being cared for at a facility near Brussels and now communicates via a computer with a special keyboard activated with his right hand, which is capable of minimal movement. He said his body was paralysed when he came round after his accident. Although he could hear every word his doctors spoke, he could not communicate with them. ( Guitar is Phoenix by Doug Rowell)

I screamed, but there was nothing to hear," he said, via his keyboard. Houben then suffered years of being effectively trapped in his own body as care personnel and doctors at the hospital in Zolder tried to communicate with him, but eventually gave up hope that he would ever come round. The moment it was discovered he was not in a vegetative state, said Houben, it was like being born again. "I'll never forget the day that they discovered me, it was my second birth." (Article on Houben from internet)

Ainsi soit-il and blessed days...

Amy

"Autumn comes as a revenant, cool and white, on the leaves each morn..."~ Amy Sperry Faldet

"Reminders are the leaves, the leaves are the reminders, of the sweet lost things that wake up our eyes and open our hearts to all we have..." ~Amy Sperry Faldet

I will open my eyes tomorrow and be on vacation within the arms of my own family, in my own home and not only will it be a reveille, but also a revelry...

Revalare- Latin origin meaning to bring into the light, to open the eyes, to reveal, to take delight, to take in the light...

As I send you blessings until next week, I leave you with the beautifully spoken last words in Tinkerbell's new movie The Lost Treasure and I send you wishes for a wonderful holiday of Thanks...

"The greatest treasures are not gold, nor jewels, nor works of art. They cannot be held in your hands. They're held within your heart. For worldly things will fade away, as seasons come and go. But, the treasure of true friendship will never lose its glow..."

Thanks for the faery dust and your illumined friendships...

Love, love, love, it's easy...

In a zoo in California, a mother tiger gave birth to a rare set of triplet tiger cubs. Unfortunately, due to complications in the pregnancy, the cubs were born prematurely and due to their tiny size, they died shortly after birth. The mother tiger after recovering from the delivery, suddenly started to decline in health, although physically she was fine. The veterinarians felt that the loss of her litter had caused the tigress to fall into a depression. The doctors decided that if the tigress could surrogate another mother's cub's, perhaps she would improve. After checking with many other zoos across the country, the depressing news was that there were no tiger cubs of the right age to introduce to the mourning mother. The veterinarians decided to try something that had never been tried in a zoo environment. Sometimes a mother of one species, will take on the care of a different species. The only 'orphans' that could be found quickly, were a litter of weanling pigs. The zoo keepers and vets wrapped the piglets in tiger skin and placed the babies around the mother tiger. Is there anything stronger than a Mother's love?

maybe we could right our own story for this glorious blue marble... maybe it could start like this...

Once upon a time there was a magical world where the people all looked upon eachother as a loving Mother looks upon her child...

It is your story... fill it with love...

Upon putting up the image of Una and the Lion by Briton Riviere in today's post I have received a few questions as to who this is and what does it represent, and given I am an English Literature teacher when I am not home with my fourth child, I just can't resist an opportunity to interest someone in such a rich, allegorical text as is the inspiration for this painting...
So, this extended part of the post is a dip into an explanation. It is from Edmund Spenser's The Faerie Queene. Una represents one truth because she is beauty and light. She walks eventually in Book 1 with a lamb and a lion who are faithful to her because she exudes all that is peace, beauty, acceptance, and strength. The lion represents strength and holiness and the lamb is innocence. When they walk together with Una who is without pride and light-filled, they represent a strength that comes from those combined traits, a true "at-one-ment" with one's self and a rejecting of Duessa, the character of double meanings, lies, and separateness. Well, my book-nerd petticoats are showing, so I best be off to smooth them down a bit and give my inkwell and plume a bit of a rest... take care dears, off to spend some quality time with my little cubs...

With stammering lips and insufficient sounds, I strive and struggle to deliver right the music of (her) nature..." ~Elizabeth Barret Browning

"I didn't realize," she confesses mournfully, "all that was going on and we never noticed... Good-bye, world. Good-bye, Grover's Corners... Mama and Papa. Good-bye to clocks ticking... and Mama's sunflowers. And food and coffee. And new-ironed dresses and hot baths... and sleeping and waking up. Oh, earth, you're too wonderful for anybody to realize you." ~ Emily in Thornton Wilder's play, Our Town. This is Rena Askey's art again with Ralph Waldo Emerson's truths...

This post is for Debbie who I had not met before she left a comment on my last post. She told me her butterfly, Amy, daughter that she loved and cared for in sickness all her life passed just mere weeks ago and I went to her blog after reading the comment she left and the world spun for a bit and I had to go step outside to feel the Earth breathe beneath my feet after visiting her world. I changed the quote above in the title because really, trying to grasp Amy's role in Debbie and their family's life leaves me stammering and full of insufficient sounds to express the love and trials that they have felt. We hold her with our thoughts as we do with all of us who see our butterfly broken, but still fluttering against the winds...

I wrote these words for my friend, Rena Askey, when she told me she needed to celebrate her Mother's beautiful ongoing strength in her life with cancer. I still can't read it out loud. I cry, everytime. I brought it to my daughter's fourth grade Poetry Day last year and explained why I wrote it and who Rena was and showed them the picture of it in Somerset Studio magazine and then, it was time to read it to the parents and class and my daughter with all the grace in the world gently took it from my trembling hands after I had said, "It is this moment..." and I could not go on and quietly with tears rolling down my cheeks I watched my daughter and smiled at our sisterhood and her knowing...

Rena Askey's butterfly faery will have to sing out what she must have meant to you, for I cannot...

debbie said...
MY DEAR AMY,YOU DON'T KNOW ME BUT I READ THE MOST ELEGANT COMMENT YOU LEFT ON LINDA'S 100TH POST. IT TOUCHED MY SOUL AND I JUST HAD TO SCOUR YOUR BLOG...I ALSO JOINED YOUR BLOG AND AS A BUTTERFLY GENTLY LANDS ON A BUTTERFLY BUSH, I EXTEND THE INVITATION TO YOU TO VISIT MY BLOG AND WOULD BE SO HONORED IF YOU JOIN ME AND MY BLOG ON ITS' JOURNEY.ON OCT. 23, 2009 MY AMY BUTTERFLY WON HER FIGHT WITH CANCER AND GOD CALLED HER HOME.SHE WAS MY ONLY DAUGHTER, 33 YEARS OLD, SO BEAUTIFUL AND FULL OF LIFE.HER ART WAS MUCH LIKE YOURS. I KNOW SHE IS NOT THERE. YOU HAVE BROUGHT ME MUCH COMFORT AMY. I HAVE SO VERY MUCH ENJOYED LOOKING, READING, SMILING AND IN AWE OF THE BEAUTY.
THANK YOU AMY
ANGEL HUGS DEBBIE

http://debbie-jeremiah3017.blogspot.com/2009/11/it-was-beautiful-sunset.html

"We must be willing to get rid of the life we've planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us..." ~Joseph Campbell

"People are like stain-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the Sun is out, but when the Darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is light from within..." ~Elizabeth Kubler-Ross

As an artist, I know the palette that soothes me, that I tend to choose. It is a calming thing creating in my element. There are people I meet, though, who create in a completely different palette and create with media that I could never be brave enough to play in or so I thought...

Vanessa Valencia's bottles of blossoms inspired the colors of the painting above that I took a "risk" with and opened my eyes and my paint box to a whole other world out there for me...

Thanks for that dear...

And she also inspired the "Plastic Paper" Project below that I tried, though it was exciting and a bit unnerving to iron plastic between wax paper sheets... Yikes!!!!! New frontiers for Amy, hee hee.

This is my collaboration with Rena Askey, one of my favorite people and friends, she used my words and painted this darling image for them. She lets me be myself and also shows me how to grow... Thanks...


EEEKKK!!!!! Here we go, am I really going to layer plastic bags and iron them??? Well, yes you are!" my dear son said! Funny and wonderful boy thanks for being brave with me...

My son and I on the porch Sunday creating plastic paper by following Vanessa Valencia's tips on using plastic bags to create great sacks or book covers or whatever your imagination sparks...

Lay down the handles that you cut off the plastic bag on a white bag and you have varied your potential material, even more! Fun to experiment. Would dried blossoms show with clear bags? What other things could we recycle I asked my little fourth grader?

This is the plastic fabric that I ended up with and I can't wait to get to a sewing machine and make something fantastic out of it!!!! Thanks to Vanessa Valencia for the idea, see here for instructions, http://afancifultwist.typepad.com/a_fanciful_twist/2009/11/green-holiday-crafting-you-fused-plastic.html and thanks to my sweet 9 year old boy who helped me gather what we needed and bring it out to our screened porch to play with a weird, awesome new media!

I could not name them all, all those who use so many colors and dip into their souls and share their beauty, but recently, my friend, Rena Askey, my friend, Terri Kahrs, and my friend, Vanessa Valencia have taught me something about myself and this I share with you. I know the path I choose is a subtle one in my painting. I choose one color, usually, and just work from its various tones. It is calming and I know part of who I am. I didn't realize, though, until recently as I was trying more color in my works that little fears crept up that I would "blow it" by going to bright, at times it felt like breathing inside a plastic bag while I was trying something new, possible, but not free. Life brings with it synchronicity when we watch, though. At the same time I was feeling some hesitancy about trying new things, painting with new colors, some of the afore mentioned artists were encouraging in their posts or through conversations to be bold and dip into the paint box. "It doesn't mean you can't have both, Amy." I told myself and then, it dawned like a beautiful sun on my favorite lake...

My favorite collections, dried blossoms, fruits, old worn ribbons with that lovely yellowing at the edges are what play is all about. Vanessa's photo above from her website A Fanciful Twist in all its dried blossom sweetness reminded me of that.

My parents have a home on land out in a meadow and I can always tell my mood from what I have collected after walking out there. At times there are rose hips, fallen petals from Great Grandma's roses, yellowing grasses and assorted colorful leaves. At times there is basically one color theme, a monochromatic song of queen anne's lace, milkweed faeries, and dandelion fluffs on wands of green. These collections are equally me, equally appreciated and brought to my attention all the more for knowing color collectors like Rena or Vanessa. I am grateful to try new things and work with media that I normally could not imagine choosing like plastic bags. So make something sweeter today, try something new this weekend, make new friends but keep the old and leave the limits behind and let the imagination lead...

Blessings,

Amy

"Lost, yesterday, somewhere between sunrise and sunset, two golden hours, each set with sixty diamond minutes..." ~ Horace Mann

"Ring the bells that still can ring. Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in."

"Having Come This Far" by Leonard Cohen

My daughter who is ten glorious years of light told me yesterday that she read somewhere that by the time a person is 65 years old, they have spent 9 years watching television. I know that there are facts like this all over about all sorts of things, hours spent working, chores, etc. (actually, people who can dance with numbers well just fascinate me. As for me, I dance with them as bad as Elaine from Seinfeld and the numbers have asked me politely to just pour the punch at their dance parties) I am not perfect.

I know this.

Friends, this week, both at home and here in blogland, have rung their bells and they seem to not be full of tinkling light, spinning in the morning breeze to the song of the sunrise. They have a deep woe in their ringing. Sometimes the music is a frustrated cadence. Resonances of unease abound. Because others have done it for me when my bells have toned with a melancholy chant, I will take this moment to tell you,

You are a song, beyond beautiful, I tell you. All you do is worthwhile. All you do is not lost. All you do is essential and full of light.

Your world, my world, will not be without its cracks, stress fractures or chasms. At the end of day, when you let your eyelids gently close, just tell yourself...

"My joy, my grief, my hope, my love, did all within this circle move." ~Edmund Waller

Whether it was sixty diamond minutes or the great cabochon that is each day, your offering is divine. It is worthy of note. It is the part of you that sounds through the morning air and sounds through the sleeping night. You are essential to the choir of souls in this world's composition.

"One sad thing about this world is that the acts that take the most out of you are usually the ones that other people will never know about." ~Anne Tyler

But, know that I hear your bells. Just as others have heard mine and with their hugs the bells became lighter and sweeter and when the heavy, cracked, weight of the Liberty Bell is on my back again, knowing that sometimes that is the cost of independence and responsibility, hugs from friends lighten the song. You are all light and I thank-you friends for your offerings.