And the Train is Long Distance

This is a small poem for my lover who is far to far away.

My eyes are darker now
so I can fly along
with your loping grace
and that steam fueled heart

It wasn’t so long ago
all I could do was hop
from branch to branch
hoping to catch a glimpse

Then there on the rails
I caught you, my prey
you were willing to be
kissed by talons and beak

And the woman on my wall,
well, maybe she holds this all
in her small brittle mold
an idol of two yearning forms

Maybe she’s the white haired one
and we’re familiar friends
she feeds us in her cabin
so we’ll come back again

She offered me some hot tea
to put me on the fast tracks
yet still, I wait for bridges to lift
so I can fly even faster.

I wonder when I see you
and I’m laying in your bed
will the smells come back with me
so I can last a little longer?

I wonder, will I stay
and melt into your walls
to soak up your dreams
and quench our lonely love?

Every time the distance feeds
seems it should get easier
but I find my need grows stronger
for the big cat to warm my feathers

Adventures

First of all, Deep Blessings on this beautiful Mabon day! The Autumnal Equinox is certainly one of my favorite turns of the seasonal wheel. Autumn is like a big long dusky twilight and I love it! I hope your journey into the colder and darker phase of the year is a good one!

Secondly, I never would have thought a visit to my dad's would bring so much intrigue into my life! Here are some of the wonderful things I've managed to do during my visit up here. (BTW, here is Ferndale, WA, which is near Bellingham).

1. The first significant moment in my journey was meeting M on the train. We had seating assignments and he was put right next to me. Much to our mutual pleasure, we hit it off right away and have since ventured into quite the passionate romance. We live in different cities (which aren't too far away, really), so that's certainly a challenge. Anyway, it's too early to say what's to become of our little love affair, but I'd like to see it go somewhere good. Here's my take on things such as this (excerpt from earlier today):

"I like the idea of jumping, head on into love and letting it sort itself out. I'm not afraid of love and I'm not afraid of getting hurt. How can I hurt when I allow myself to fully experience the true fervor of my heart? How can I hurt when I walk straight into the fires of passion with no expectations for what lies on the other side? And if it ends in tears? Those tears only feed another part of myself. Like a good pruning, it helps me grow."

2. I realized yesterday, that I'm addicted to love. Yes, love is a drug and there is no cure. Here's the thing, there are a lot of people who've been burned by love and they burned because they forgot what love really is. But me? I say there's no better thing. I want to love people with as much wild abandon as I can muster. The trick is to leave your expectations at the door. What fun it can be to ride that tidal wave of emotions and come crashing back down to Earth. The more you do it, the more you learn to land on your feet. No, I'm not going to try and resist my penchant for roller coaster love, I'm going to embrace it and learn all it's little quirks. I'm going to become to best sort of love junkie, the kind who gives and receives openly, freely, and selflessly.

3. Speaking of love... I have been blessed with ample opportunities to reinforce my love-affair with Nature on this trip. Now, there's a lover who never holds back! When I open myself to the exchange, when I simply experience her force, her fragility, her fierceness, I lose myself to the infinite multiverse. I feel the deepest peace in her embrace. In this short week, I felt the flow of her waters, the hardness of her mountains, the coolness of her breath... I glimpsed her creatures, large and small, listened to her sighs and moans, laid naked against her breast. I love her, my Mother. I love her more than anything else, she is my salvation, my solitude, my inspiration. She is, what is. Yod Heh Vav Heh.

4. Speaking of nature... I've had the pleasure of gathering some of Mama's bountiful harvest during my visit. I picked juicy asian pears, gathered hawthorn berries, crafted plentiful horsetail and partook of fresh tomatoes. My dad and I did some dehydrating experimentation with cantaloupe and the pears. The pears were excellent, the cantaloupe, fairly good. I love picking fresh ripe foods and medicines from the garden and the wild. It's meditative, connecting, grounding, and essentially meaningful.

5. Different Folks: I got to sing karaoke and dance with a bunch of amazing folks who have various mental and physical challenges this week. My dad volunteers for the Max Higbee Center (http://www.maxhigbee.org/), an organization that puts on community-based recreation programs for developmentally disabled people. I can't even express how much fun I had! They were some of the most uninhibited and authentic people I've ever met. They're witty, sweet, and enthusiastic. I couldn't wipe the giant grin off of my face as I danced with Levin, Judy, Darrin, and Paul, amongst others. It's so refreshing to be around people who aren't so locked into the sort of daily grind that us "normal" folks get up to. I'm deeply grateful for having had this opportunity to share time with such beautiful new friends!

6. I worked on a small promo video for the Screamie Sagebush Burlesque Revival with my dad. It's not done yet, but it's pretty great, considering, I didn't put a whole lot of planning into it. Anyway, I plan on producing a variety show featuring my alter ego, Screamie. The intent of the show is multifaceted, however, I'd say the core intention is to encourage self-love and personal authenticity, through humor, beauty, celebration, ceremony, and social-commentary. I'm making the video in order to promote the idea to venues who might be willing to host the show. I'll probably put it on YouTube when it's done and link it on here.... so keep your eyes open!

Lazybones

lazybones
you lie about entwined by your dreams
and always
‘you will,
you want,
you may’

Your mind is an unsolvable maze
a thought,
a light,
an insight, leads to another
on and on and on and on
they remain firmly planted in the firmament

lazybones
you lie about entwined by your dreams
and always
‘you will,
you want,
you may’

once you were called a space cadet
with gun-boats for feet
were the feet too heavy to move
with dreams too high to reach?

lazybones
you lie about entwined by your dreams
and always
‘you will,
you want,
you may’

why can’t you move those bones of yours?
why can’t you leave your technicolor mind... behind?

It’s always ideas and aether
one large foot inside the outside
the other just peeking out

why can’t you move those bones of yours?
why can’t you leave your technicolor mind... behind?

lazybones
you lie about entwined by your dreams
and always
‘you will,
you want,
you may’

Rambly Journal Entry #1

August 28, 2009

Powell's Books. Downtown. Portland, Oregon.

I'm here to be in the presence of the books. Dead tree tombs/tomes full of... wow! All these thoughts from human minds, so many words, vastly more than even the people in this city, this state, country, ~ world? I like books. They comfort me, they give me the feeling that if I just try hard enough, I'll eventually find the answers I'm searching for. Some books are pretty, some contain wisdom, probably most are different versions of the same thing repeated over and over again by someone finding it all for the fist time (and thinking they've stumbled upon something special, indeed!). In other words, most of it is crap because we live in a world that requires us to make a bunch of crappy stuff in order to keep feeding the grown-up game machine, also called "the economy". Luckily, buried beneath all the shit is some real gold, which is what I seek. Unfortunately, even the gold can't tell me what to do with my life. Only I can make that call... only.... I can't. Sometimes, I wish life would happen to me in a way that makes it all a lot more simple. I'm mired in the illusion that I have too many choices and no choices at all. I continually teeter-totter, hesitating to jump off the damn thing and try the swing or slide instead. I could do this, or I could do that, my mind will venture, but if I do this, I'll miss that and if I do that, I'll probably just fall on my ass. This is an interesting notion, cause, I'm most likely already on my ass - which is what I need to get off of, as opposed to doubling up on. So that's it. I'm in this huge bookstore, seeking that Holy Grail, the meaning of MY life and the elusive road map and necessary tools needed to fulfill the purpose that goes along with the meaning. The sad irony is that, while I may find some inspiration, I know full-well there's no such guiding light to be found among these books... not really. In my experience, the only place that light can be found is in the dark. By dark I mean, the nothingness that is everything, the only pure thing in existence, which is not a thing at all. It lies within that which is many named, yet cannot be named. It is within me and beyond, all around, everywhere. I am that thing and I am separate from it. Only in this present moment, can I know my path. Right now, my path is dark. So be it.

Silence

Sometimes, it's in the silence that answers lie.
I am visiting that place now, listening to the nothing, attempting in my novice way to detach from expectations.
Maybe I'll only hear the void, which is not hearing at all.
It's un-hearing, the absence of hearing, but not deaf.
Maybe I'll get the insight I seek.
There are answers in both stories.

And the Pendulum Swings!

Here I sit in someone else's dream, drinking in the tea. I'm in someone else's desperation, borrowing their love for just a little while. My motivation is small, as though I want it all to fall apart in order to regain my sense of self. I've almost stopped worrying about "getting by". It's not that I don't want to do the work, it's that I don't want to do that work. I stubbornly resist it, even though it's the easy way. I'm bored with the easy way, only I'm lost to any other way to go. I've been instructed to stop trying so hard. Yet, how far do I let the pendulum swing?

Song For the Grocery Boy

Your name is a wig, is a coat, is a person in the celler
I looked it up, since you’ve locked your book and I have no key
It’s the closest I could get beyond the currency and the candy
The suit of hearts blew away and I saw it with my own eyes

I’m still wanting you, misleading meanderer
But it seems coyote has pulled his wool again

Even the King of Owls wonders what you’re thinking
Though he’s thankful that you gave him shelter from the rain
He feels everything you do, except for the fear
The suit of hearts blew away and I saw it with my own eyes

You clumsily bruise yourself with that arrogant shyness
It’s only tea or wine, only some numbers, not a lifetime
Sadly, those nectarines aren’t as juicy as they looked
The suit of hearts blew away and I saw it with my own eyes

Another Listy of Thingsies

So, this will probably be short, cause I'm having trouble breathing. Hummm... maybe it's this new look I'm trying, corsets, ribbons, lace... Okay, that's a lie... well maybe more of a dream than a lie! So just a small update on my doings, if you please!

1. I am now officially 30 years old... and two and a half days... Good riddance 20's, you taught me a lot, but OMG, you were a bitch! Here's to hoping that the 30's are better.

2. I married myself in a very successful performance art piece entitled "With Water, It Begins: A Celebration of Inner Marriage." The event featured choreography by me and my beloved artistic sister, Chelsea Petrakis, the world premiere of my latest composition, A 21st Century Hieros Gamos (the words are posted on this blog under that title), a ritual performance of my inner marriage and the first public unveiling of my alter ego, Screamie Sagebush, who self-married many willing attendants! It was one of the best days of my life, and I owe deep gratitude to my amazing friends and family who helped me bring it all together! This event was also a wopila, or give-away. I gathered fabric and other sewing supplies for my friend Talia's Ina Maka Foundation, a non-profit dedicated to the support of those doing creative work which honors the sacred earth and indigenous traditions. This event was a deep blessing and the beginning of a new chapter in my life!

3. Now that I'm married to myself, I'm baffled by my unquenched want for a lover and partner. I was rather hoping that making this self-dedication would solidify my self-love and Independence. I suppose it has on some level, but not in the way I'd thought. I still yearn to lie under tree shade in the arms of an ardent lover, connecting through currents of dream, creating moments of sigh, spinning in bliss. I wish for someone to breathe, dance, fly down hills on bikes, and sing in front of fires with. I wish for someone who will receive the radiant love spilling forth from my undying heart and someone who can give in kind. All this wanting, waiting and wishing is painful. It's probably just the summer making me so juicy and wanton. When it gets cold again, I'll be content cuddling my cats and sleeping alone... maybe.

4. Now that I'm self-wed, I'm realizing how I fall short in loving myself. My body is a big one. I realize that I accept my body better when I dance on a regular basis, otherwise, all I see is every imperfection, and I start to wonder how anyone could ever love me or find me attractive. Boo to that! I want to love my body, I also want to remember that my body is only one little piece of me. There are multitudes of other parts of me that are amazing and beautiful and lovely. In truth, most of those things are more important than my body anyway. When I seek a lover, I want to be able to connect with them intellectually, creatively and spiritually, in addition to being physically attracted to them. Honestly, the physical comes last, because you can be pretty, but if you don't catch me in the heart, the head and the spirit, you won't keep me long. So, if I have the above standard for myself, why shouldn't I expect that my lover have the same standard? Also, I wonder how I can be that lover to myself. How can I love my essence and give myself unconditional love and compassion in the face of inevitable shifts and changes that I will undergo as I forge ahead on my life-path?

5. My next project is devising and implementing an achievable daily creative practice that will help me to organize the abundant ideas I have for projects and practice.

6. I'm learning that once I make a decision about something, 99.5% of the time it works out. Only about 25% of the time, it works out the way I expected. This proves two things, my will is strong and my expectations are beyond the point.

7. Considering the above, I've decided that I will make a successful living as a multi-disciplined creatrix, all doubters be damned! My first step is implementing my creative practice which will include getting my work out into the world. My second step is demanding that I get paid for my work. I once made a decision that I would go to college and graduate, that I would become a massage therapist, that I would draw a picture, or write a song, or win a solo competition. I didn't sit around hoping that these things would be given to me, I worked my ass off for them. It will happen because I make it happen (I must remember here, that this is only true when I am in my integrity). Just don't ask me how. Hummmm.... maybe I should take this approach in the realm of love too.....

8. I see a theme here: love, will and control. The funny thing is, to be in control, I have to know when to surrender... May I remember that.

UGH!

THANK THE GREAT BIG GODDESSY-THING IN THE SKY THAT I ONLY HAVE A FEW MORE DAYS LEFT AT MY J-O-B! SINCE WHEN DID I BECOME A GEISHA?
(Okay, so I'm not a Geisha... but there have been times where I felt like one at this gig. Thankfully, I have one day left, and the last few have been relatively uneventful compared to the rest. Sigh of relief!)

Here's to Ends and Beginings!

As I embark upon this creative journey, many things move and shift. More and more, my priorities become clear, my path becomes unveiled. It's funny how sometimes circumstances, which seem random, help to move things along. I spent the last few days working on realizing a project with a long time friend. Right as we were about to go out and do the real dirty work, things got dramatic and the whole thing was dropped, just like that. It was not a happy moment, but in the frustration and anger, the burning of these emotions, the unplugging of rancid investments, I was liberated. I have a big undertaking this weekend. It's a celebration of myself, my Muse and my path of creative service. It's a dedication through my modus vivendi of performance and art, which is my central calling. It's poetry, music, dance, ritual and theater, a small realization of my massive dreams. If I were still caught up in the toxic projects from earlier this week, I would not have been able to invest the time it is now taking me to make this event the meaningful and amazing jumping-off point it is meant to be. Likewise, in another unexpected twist, the circumstances of my life have forced me to downsize my event in a huge way. Rather than this being an unconqureable obstacle, it is pardoxically, an opportunity to realize something far more profound through imposed simplicity. Everything, like the magnificent embrace of intertwined tree trunks, is growing together, beautiful, awesome, seamless. I am truly blessed.

Oh, Please!

“You’d better be careful, cause if you’re art becomes your job, it may feel like work.”

Hello, it’s already work. Lots and lots and lots of painful, annoying, stupid, tedious work. That’s one reason why I haven’t gotten very far with it. Not because I’m unwilling to do the work, but because for many years I bought into the concept that the work of an artist is supposed to be all fun and games, unless you’re a sell-out or something. Oh no, if art is your life and your work, it comes with all the ups and downs of any other job. Until recently, I couldn’t understand this. I was so confused, because my art practice feels so much like work so often, I figured I was doing something wrong. I wasn’t. The only mistake I’ve made thus far is not embracing the hard work of creation enough. Speaking of work, I have gown to create.

Talking and Telling it Like it Is.

I have been in a very interesting place during the last few weeks. I’m not even sure I can muster a comprehensive soliloquy on these maneuvers of life. Perhaps, a small list:

1. I have found that I am open to multitudinous possibilities in the realm of love. However, what I most desire are bold cuddles, pheromone combustion, and coquettish glances. {Erotic} love is a drug.

2. Nurturing others is easy when you stop caring about doing and start being.

3. Chaos is ecstatic sometimes... when it’s {Erotic} love or something... but not when it’s your job.

4. Almost everything I do on a daily basis is farcical. Please tell me why I’ve been spending my days rubbing people down with oil and please tell me why I’m so concerned with details that could just as well be ignored!

5. Leaving art, garden greens, grapes and wine at the door long time friends who suddenly explode in romantic overtones, late at night, is both a highly questionable extravagance and something I should do more often.

6. Leaving notes on the bikes of ardent grocery store cashier’s is rather juvenile, to say the least! You have to admit, however, that it’s a heart-wrenchingly sweet gesture! Unfortunately, waiting for an answer to the overture is rather a bitch!

7. I am so full of love and romance that I’m bursting like a White Dwarf. I’m completely unafraid to share it. Unfortunately, I’m still awaiting a gracious recipient. One may show potential, but if they be pussyfooting about, I’m off to the next conquest... for the moment... I say walk through the door, or close it. I’m tired of standing on the threshold.

8. Staying up till almost 4am, with an awesome new friend, watching Grease, drinking mead and eating popcorn is totally awesome! “There are worse things I could do”.

9. The Thesaurus is my favorite dinosaur. I may like the Dictionary even better.

10. Riding bike, working a physical job and eating minimally is an amazing diet! Just don’t over do it, or your knee will feel like mine.

11. OMG! I’m getting married to myself this weekend! (and turning 30 in less than two weeks............. hummmm).

12. I am covered in bruises, most of which are resultant of self-massage that would make a masochist flinch. Iron, anyone? Beef, it’s what’s for dinner.

13. I wonder, if there’s even the slightest possibility that I can make a living at my new J-O-B. I wonder even more, why the hell I’m still doing work that isn’t in the creative realm.

14. I ride over the Broadway Bridge almost daily and every time I am over the river I think of falling in. Is it some sort of “analogy gift” from my subconscious?

15. I have determined that if I’m not actively putting out creatively, I start to loose my grip on reality, want to die, scream and generally act like a maniac. Apparently, creative expression is my modus vivendi. I cannot function without it.

End transmission.

Mitakuye Oyasin

I’ve heard it called an illusion
this divide between you and I

The further I go into it, the more I understand
that you are a kirlian photograph of me

My legs are a soft impression of yours
Your dreams are fragments in the brushing of my teeth

We’ve already traded one million molecules by now

My laughter is your sigh tomorrow
Your heartbreak is the breath I take

The salve for our conjoined amnesia
is the rainbow glow of our own little centers

Remember this,
We are all related

The Breath Isn't Just Deep, It's Also Wide

The Edward Gorey Garden Party at the Historic Overlook House:

In a swirl of black and lace, I made my solo singing debut after almost 7 years of virtually no vocal performances. With the generous aid of my trusty new accompanist friend, Adam, I rediscovered the power in my breath and belly, to soar through the notes of pain and passion in 8 beautiful songs. These songs are people to me, people who I know intimately, like the best of friends and lovers. It was wonderful to meet with them again. Like a wobbly revisit on a long forgotten bicycle, things my body once knew in every bit of flesh and bone came inching back into my consciousness as I reconnected with these song people. The most profound of these old knowings was the sensation of breath which supports truth and tone. This breath isn't just deep, it's also wide. To get the right support to release a high B or C or F, a singer must allow the breath to open and fill every little crevice of their core and let it become the fuel for inspired vibrations to emerge. It's the the play of breath and flesh and space that make the instrument what it is. Free, flowing, and alive, or pinched, frightened, and controlling. This breath is the ultimate Wu Wei, the art of non-doing, or doing effortlessly. In the the not trying, the magic emerges. It's about trust. When we trust, everything flows.

Moon Waning

I think 

the Waning Moon 

makes me lazy.

What would you say upon receiving three clusters of pink hawthorn flowers?

How would the tones of your face reveal themselves if I told you it was 'heart medicine'?

Would your eyes dilate?

I mouse-sneak to spy on you.

I thought I knew where it could happen, but...

You are so good at hiding, you appear disappeared.

Perhaps, now that my longing has lengthened like a shadow near twilight,

Our entrainment has turned to beats, 

Waves canceling each other out.

I'm finding my patience for curiosity is short.

I just want to know if you know the longest word in the English language.

I just want to know how you smell after crying.

What would you say if I handed you a freshly propelled maple seed?

Would you get it when I tell you, Nature imitates Life?

Would your heart jump along that red road with mine?

Wake Up Orange Flower!

Okay, so I've really been working the creative flow.  It's going really well, even if I still haven't established a regular discipline.  It's a dynamic process, which I'm okay with.  Anyway, for quite awhile I was feeling like my red (1st) and orange (2nd) energy centers were pretty closed off.  These centers are very much about sexuality, survival and creativity.  I was feeling a bit dead in this area and was aware that to get my creative flow moving in an optimal way, I would need to give them a little push in the right direction.  Focusing on getting my basic needs met through work and trusting that I'll have what I need has helped in the red center and revisiting the movements of the belly dance (mostly working the pelvic and perineal areas), and movement in general seems to have unstuck the orange center.  I consider this all good, but what has caught me by surprise is a seemingly sudden reawakening of sexual interest.  I was mostly shutdown in that way, which was a conscious choice on my part.  I didn't want to be bothered with sex, lovers, longing, lust, desire....  All too messy and distracting for an aspiring Bard.  It seems however, that the Gods have different plans for me.  They want me to be alive in all ways human, despite what I think I should have.  I may desire an asexual and rather hermetic existence, but They desire a Nova full of the juicy life-giving potential, sensual, attractive, and twitterpated.  I suppose this is good for my creativity.  It gives me a drive and energy for expression that may not exist otherwise.  I'm not totally opposed to it, just a bit curious, watching, wondering and observing my thoughts and visceral impulses.  I'm in a place right now, where I need to understand the whys and hows of my sensual side so that I no longer unconsciously react to it.  I have made a dedication to being with myself at the moment.  I am even planning an inner marriage ceremony for my 30th birthday.  Now that I'm not in the game, however, the game seems to be coming to me.  Despite a variety of intense happenings this week, my mind is fixated on a certain crush which has emerged out of my Svadhisthana reawakening.  I'm bemused by this and I'm seriously considering how to proceed.  I'm pretty sure there's some sort of mutual interest and curiosity, but I'm not particularly concerned if I'm wrong about this.  I'm attempting to maintain a firm level of detachment here.  My goal is to remain firmly rooted to the Earth and to not let my wild imagination to run away with me, as I've often done in the past to my deep humiliation and detriment.  I wonder if I'm simply being challenged to learn how to focus this energy into my creative projects, or if I should actually explore this potential partner.  I suppose, as long as I don't over-invest myself in any expectations, I could ease my way into an exploratory friendship.  It certainly couldn't hurt so long as I remain tightly reigned to my roots of rationality.  Part of my artistic quest is to deepen my self-knowledge and raise my consciousness, but it's also about relating and sharing my experience with others.  I wonder how I could experience and explore this consuming crush as an act of creation?

Rowan's Song

And I asked the Grandmothers to infuse her with the heartbeat of the Earth

I cried into the flesh of ground and begged for this life to come and cry and cuddle our fears

And she fought, for a millenia

Warrior Mother, Kali Woman

To ache it out and down and through

And in vigil we stood

Remembering our breath through the waves

They came and went and washed us of our fixed minds

And we slept and wept and sighed in the sifting of days to nights

Moments moved on, feeling infinite

She fought through emptiness, still brimming in fortitude

And he finally emerged through a crack, from the dark

Perfect and small

Our little red one

A 21st Century Hieros Gamos

Water is where

It begins

Salty juice

Freshest blood

Wind feeling

Trees and me

I am here

Water deep

My feet damp

Clinging rocks

She trickles

Over me

Fuse with me

She cackles

Lie in me

Drink of me

Blackened, my

Visage peeks

Between cracks

And in lines

Snaking past

Rocks and through

Light, She weaves

Her story

Erasing

Foreknowledge

Forever

Moving on

And I rise 

Out of Her

Beckoning

My own Love

I am Man

And Woman

I am both

And neither

Two and Three

All in One

I am my

Own Lover

Sacred Slut

Of my true

Heart's desire

I am Virgin

I gasp the

Shadow-light

Which plays the

Water's edge

He knows me

Intimately

Because She's 

Also me

We love to

Create the

Vessels of

Our madness

Willingly we

Dance into

Ourselves and 

Out again

Drinking of 

The Water

Singing our

Own love songs

Reveling

and Playing

Ecstatic

Melodies

Splashing, we

Mix into

Her wetness

And hold on

And we breathe...

Slowly, we

Take pause, then

We listen

We are drawn

Into Her

Rippling voice

Her calm chant

Softly, She

Repeats Her

Prose so we

Understand

He and She

Rejoin Me

Two or Three

into One

I am here

Completely

Deep in Her

Breathing in

My vessel

Is full of

Her currents

And I am

Simplest blood

Juicy salt

With Water

It begins

An Imaginary Friend Came for Tea

He took my eyes.  

"Because," he said, "Seeing doesn't give you Sight."

He put them in his pocket for safe keeping.

And now, I was under the influence of pure black.  My skin prickled every time he spoke, I could feel the caress of every word vibrate into my cells.  

"Listen quietly, my dear, and perhaps you'll come to know a small vestige of Truth."  

I nodded, then gasped.  My breath seemed to catch fire and blow out with every cycle.  I was afloat in infinite vitality.  There was a cool heat, radiating everywhere.  

He poured me a cup of licorice tea.  As I sipped, every droplet of that hot sweet liquid cast upon me a cataclysmic shudder, my heart leapt for the sounds of my swallows.

Silently, I gestured to him, hand reaching for his.  As his flesh met mine, I gripped and pulled him toward me.  I put my ear to his throat and listened for a rush of tea to drain, mouth to stomach, into his body.  The sound of it washed through me like the blue light of falling water.  The taste of it entered through my feet.  He and I were an obit of stars, our own separate Earths.  

It was then, I began to See.

Objects of Desire

I made these hair-pieces for my performance troupe, Source Lab.  We're performing and hosting a salon on April 25th.  We will premiere Story 1, our first movement and sound composition!

Here is a mysterious collection of magical objects.  Guts, scepter, fluids frozen?

Fledgling Myspace Music Page...

Hello my dear fans and readers!

Please hear some of my musical work on myspace at www.myspace.com/novadawnsong.  Everything that's up right now, I did in college.  Hopefully, I'll be adding more recent stuff soon.  Enjoy and let me know what you think!

Cheers!

Mlle. Novadawn M.

Lost, Miserable, and Hopeless

I'm in a process of searching.  For what?  It's rather vague.  I know that I'm not reaching my potential and that I need to move on and out of what I've been doing, especially in the realm of work.  Unlike many others, I have not the capacity to separate my work life from other aspects of my life.  For me to be fulfilled, my work must fulfill me, otherwise I will keep trying to escape my own life.  I am an artist and as such, I cannot ever seem to turn that self-identification off.  This creates a great dilemma for me because I'm keenly aware of the lack of talent and skill I'm currently employing at my job.  While it's been something that has earned me money for essentials, it was always meant to be a temporary step between here and somewhere else.  Unfortunately, 5 years later, here I am, still doing the same thing in the same town and with very little to show for it.  I'm burnt out.  I've been burnt out before, but this time it's even more serious.  This time I have a push and pull need to dive most destructively into the creative processes that will actually lead to a sense of personal fulfillment.  Rational thinking would tell me to be patient and ride it out until an opportunity for a better kind of job comes along.  Emotionally, possibly intuitively, I'm deeply compelled to up and quit, despite the shite economy, and take a gamble on my talents and true passions.  Can I really take another day, another month or six of a job, that while meaningful in it's own right, no longer brings me much joy, a job that acts as a constant irritant reminding me of my underachievements?  I'm finding that rather than letting me relax about basic needs being covered, my job leaves me emotionally and physically drained.  I have very little energy left for pursuing my creative aspirations.  Not only that, it may pay the bills, but it can't sustain certain things like music lessons, supplies, and other such things which I consider necessary to my success as an artist.  Perhaps, I'm just making a bad excuse here, so that I can cop out of just doing something, but I am doing something, and from where I stand, it's not enough.  I need more money and more time and more energy to dedicate to my creative pursuits or at least a job that doesn't suck my creative resources dry.  I've spent enough of the past 5 years sucking it up and making it work, now it's time to make it change.  I will not be doing the same thing in a year or two, I will be doing something far more exciting and personally fulfilling.  Personal fulfillment does not mean that what I do is all about me, on the contrary, I couldn't be fulfilled unless I knew that what I was doing would be to the benefit of others.  I know I'm not the only one in the world who is struggling with these dilemmas.  I know that it's as much a symptom of our imaginatively-challenged society as it is a personal issue.  That said, I'm desperately hoping to gain some practical sense of direction out of my sticky situation, and very soon.  Otherwise, I am ever more liable to make rash decisions.  Maybe that's just what I need....

It Was Maria de la Mer

Contemplating Death Isn't All Bad

Try as I might, I cannot seem to evade deep blues and shadowy blacks.  I have yet to identify a particular cycle, but it does come in waves.  Sometimes I get pulled down so deep that the thought of leaving forever visits and revisits and plays out in a variety of scenarios, both tragic and comedic.  I'm not entirely convinced that this is a bad thing.  I'm forced to face my mortality, and face it, I do.  As the years have passed and depression has become a familiar caller, I have found that my ruminations on death have always ended in a stronger will to live.  Perhaps, my fear of what others think has been my saving grace.  Usually, I end my suicidal fantasies with a realization of how pathetic it would be to be found dead by my own hand.  I do not want to leave this world remembered for committing such a tragic act, it's far too humiliating.  That said, when I'm floundering in such dark despair, it's all too easy for me to revisit the option.  It's wishful thinking, truly, the most extreme choice amongst many to alleviate my gnawing pain.  My other recurring thought when the weighty friend visits, is to run away to the countryside.  There, I would find a semi-remote cabin and hole up with my guitar and other instruments and spend my days playing music, gardening and tending goats.  Right now, I have to say, that sounds positively blissful.  As for creative motivation, usually when I'm depressed, my creative energy is too drained to be of any good, but occasionally, it brings me to a level of inspiration unparalleled by that of my "normal" emotional states.  Most often I produce interesting visual art, because, my voice tends to get stoppered and my words cinched.  

I bring all this up right now because, I'm currently wallowing in a vat of my own self-pity, disappointment, and seemingly uncontrollable chemical imbalances.  I had a vision of the above picture and I decided that a candid discussion on the subject was called for.  The truth is, I love and appreciate my ability to swing so fantastically upon the emotional pendulum.  It teaches me very valuable lessons.  However, I do hope that as time nudges me along, I will be able to have longer spells of equilibrium, thus allowing me to better realize my potential.  After all, one day my fear of being found floating in a river or cold in bed because I dove too far into unknowns, may not be enough to keep me coming back.  I shudder at the thought.  

(Don't worry folks, I have a counseling appointment this week.)

The Salon Gets a Face Lift!... Sorta...

Dear fans and readers,

I've decided to dedicate this blog to the wanderings, meanderings, adventures, and explorations into my world of creation.  To translate, I will now focus entries on my creative work and that which lies within it's orbit.  Perhaps, I'll still throw in an occasional personal diatribe or rant on other goings on in my life, but for the most part, I want you and me to enjoy the pleasures and pains of my laborious journey into a life lived for art.  So, here we go!  The Siren is singing, let her reel you in!

Love and Light (and Midnight too!),

Mlle. Novadawn M.

Creativity Titer

The question has been, "HOW?".

Now that that's out of the way, I remain unsure of many things.  The titer has returned confirming a positive.  My immunity to creative death is strong!

I've been infused with the knowing once again.  I'm infected with a good disease, right to the core of my bones.

Creation Flows.

Yesterday, on the bus a rather strange woman invited me to a party.  She thought I looked down, but I was just tired.  I was good tired from the hard work of creation.  She saw books in my bag and asked me if it was science or history, or what it was that I was studying.  I told her it was singing, and performance and such creative things.  She said she wanted to be like me.  She asked me how.  It finally, truly made sense to me.

The answer is and always was, GO, DO!  It's sometimes called showing up.

Away with the intellectual pondering of potential and possibility.  Go into it with not a thought, but what to sing in this moment, or that.  It's not the song, it's the voice.  It was always the voice.  The voice alone is enough.

Donum of Vox Vocis ~ The Gift of Voice

Now I obsessively repeat, "Today is a good day to sing."  It's my mantra, my melody.

Now I step through every doorway of opportunity, and let it lead me into the mystery.

Tomorrow, I fly south to sing.  

Deep Gratitude

Two weeks ago, my new housemate, Divya and I claimed our new home by receiving the keys and filling the space with our multitudinous possessions.  I am deeply grateful for this change in space and location.  I'm more centrally located, I've got true artistic and sacred space and I've got a real kindred spirit to share it with.  While I'm still getting settled, I already feel a deeper peace.  I feel like my many dreams and goals are more attainable, my needs better nourished and fulfilled.  It's amazing what a physical space can do for one's mind, heart and body.  This place has real potential to become a home as the seasons pass (even though we don't have a bath tub!).  I can see myself setting roots, deep enough to be grounded, shallow enough to be transplanted to an even better place when the time comes (may it be graceful in coming).  While one can make the best of most any living situation, some places feed the soul more readily than others.  Whatever the reason, this place is one of those.  Despite being right on a somewhat busy street, in a city, this 1904 Victorian 4-plex, with all it's funky charm has a warmth within it that is at once intangible, subtle and deeply embracing.  Perhaps it's the woman who lived in my unit for 9 years who filled this house with such warmth, a woman who built beautiful garden beds along the side of the house, who according to legend passed to me by one of my neighbors was the "house mother".  Maybe the two women who were living here before us, added their own cozy imprints into the concrete, wood and plaster flesh of our new home.  And maybe the magic and intention Divya and I grounded into ourselves and the Earth have played a role in creating a new, yet longed for experience for me.  Certainly 104 years of human and animal presence has given this building a life of it's own.  I feel a pride, an ownership, a sense of dominion, a right to inhabit space, a nourishment and a welcoming in this new home.  It's beautiful.  It's a temple of love, life, truth, fertility, sensuality, passion, creativity, and nurturing.  It's a sanctuary from the bustle of the city, from the ups and downs of work and the otherwise disempowering chaos of civilization.  This home is someone I really want to get to know, someone I want to create a real relationship with.  I'm waiting to hear her name, so I can better hear her stories.  She is fertile ground for me, and I fully intend to take advantage of the blessings from such luscious nourishment!  My gratitude cannot be expressed with words alone, maybe with a little dash of dance and song, I'll manage to come close.  Deepest thanks to all (spirit and person alike) who helped bring me to my new friend, my new home.