Angel Thirst/Angel Weaving

Last Thursday while eating soup at a local café I became aware of a table across the room where people gathered and spoke Spanish.  I realized I knew one of the people and was waved over to join the group.  My potato soup and my high school knowledge of Spanish became part of those gathered at the table.

We began our introductions and  I learned one of the members at the table had spent time in Argentina.  Argentina, these days, when someone even utters the word I become hyper aware. My younger daughter is presently in Argentina studying and I hunger for any thing I can learn about the country. I feel a connection to her simply by the magic of  the calling: Argentina.  Language can do this.   A word, it’s resonance, the sound vibration, can conjure and carry us.  And somehow the word becomes more than what is by utterance in the moment.

The tale woven at this table, in this cafe, on this morning, in Spanish, is the story of Yerba Matte and a bus journey. The sharing of Yerba Matte is a way of connecting with friends the man explains. In this story, there is one gourd and the Yerba Matte tree leaves placed in the gourd, one metal straw, and hot water to steep the leaves and brew the tea. These are the elements the story will build with. We learn, the tea is passed around with the same reverance as ceremony, and the sharing of Yerba Matte has form and rules in the same way a peace pipe ceremony has ritual. Every one drinks, and one never stirs the tea with the straw. We learn, even on buses the Yerba Matte is passed, and strangers hands and the gourd of tea meet.  Many lips hold the metal straw and sip and savor the bitter tea.  The man giggles when explaining on one bus, he saw someone  sanitizing the drinking straw by pouring hot water from his thermos onto it.  For  some reason we all laugh. This is the way of story.

Even though I don’t understand every word in Spanish I find myself charmed by the way the story is shaped.  The man’s hands gesture as he speaks. His facial expressions, and the hat he wares adds to the delight of every word.  His gestured cadence and scented Spanish builds the story, each spoken and unspoken detail fleshing the tale as he repeats aspects over and over, and the story grows.  The description about the story I have summarized here has taken a brief moment, a few sentences or so.. the story when told by the teller, was much longer. The man with the hat, transported us to a place where time thru story is woven differently. I was brought to this place thru words, sound, and gesture.  I was wholly there: I swayed on the bus and held the tea and passed the warm gourd to the next person. I felt the old metal straw in my mouth and tasted the strong acrid tea in my throat. Thru story at this table we all shared tea.

As I paint angels, I glimpse different aspects of time. The angels take me to a loom and I become a weaver. I lay down a broad color map on a grid and then flesh out my weaving one angel at a time. Each angel complete in itself the way a word is.  When together the angels form a sentences and finally a story. 

The angels teach me the process of story telling. Sometimes there is repitition and sometimes the repetition becomes a device for building the narrative and sometimes the repetition is boring.  Yes, the angel project is at times tedious: a very long story that takes patience and hearkens initiatory rituals that can take days. An elder once said to me when I asked her to teach me about the pipe: “To tell you that story will take me three days and you will have to travel to the place where I can tell it. The telling will even take more than me.”   

I move toward wholeness through tedium and the medium and elements I know: color, shape. and line. Each angel becoming a thread of the story I am piecing together. Each angel is a bit of woven cloth. Angel-by-angel I move into my voice with respect. I move into the story.

Angel Waking: A dream

I am living in a house by an ocean. The scene dances between Maine and California. The house wavers in both places at the same time and between magical inter dimensional worlds. My x-husband bought the house for me and I am most appreciative. I know my time in the house will not be long. It is the most amazing place I have ever seen. There are waterfalls and crystal mountains with more water falling between stones. Everything glistens and is hyper alive. The main room of the house has a big picture window where one can view the water falling from above. When I look outside the light and setting reminds me of one of those very kitschy new- age paintings one might find in a California poster shop.

From the window I watch dolphins jumping thru the falls. Spirits that were once lumberjacks arrive from the mists created by the water vapor and tap on the window. Other 18th century woods folk appear. Both men and women dressed in the appropriate period costuming arrive to chat with me as well. They are astounded I can see them and I’m surprised and delighted by this expanded vision as well!

In the dream, I’ve just thrown a big party. I see remnants of food and trays strewn around. I realize I have not known any of the people who have come. Everyone has dressed beautifully. Folks looked as if they had arrived out of an episode of dancing with the stars. (Dancing with the stars is one of my guilty pleasures.) I see them now, more as fading chem-trails. Their once-upon-a-time solid energy body arrival has left a mark.

My X calls, and I say; “Where are you?” “It’s beautiful here and you have to see the dolphins and the people from in between.” I’m thanking him over and over for his generosity. I had no idea a house like this even existed. The gift is beyond belief, and I am renewed and restored by the setting. The light and warmth here is enlivening.

Back in the not as colorful real world, I have been questioning my way of seeing. Much happened yesterday which I will post under another heading.

Recently I've been reading about Navaho sand painting and a medicine person called Walking Thunder. She has inspired me, and brought a deepening awareness into the dimensional healing capacity of ceremony. In my own energy medicine practice, I am ready to hold space completely. And I will stand within the healing space as a ceremonial circle; with clarity and connection and renewed attention. I will commune with my clients as light fiber; being to being.


Last night’s dream brings joy.

I am grateful to the dolphins and the loggers for arriving from between worlds and allowing me to see and speak with them. The dream brings many gifts: an energy of intiation, a settling, peace, gratitude, light, and mostly the gift of possibility.

Angel love: Angel-by-Angel

Yesterday was an exceptional workday. I completed three and half angels in one day! I’m beginning to understand the forms. I do think two months per flight is the 'right' time-line for completion.

Last night I went to the Sangha and meditated.
This weekend at the workshop on Zen Buddhism the Three Jewels of Buddhism or taking refuge was explained as The Buddha (the enlightened one), Dharma (the teachings of Buddha), and Sangha (the community: those one practices Buddhism with or those who are enlightened). The Zen master I worked with explained these jewels are not an outer manifestation but best served when viewed as inner constructs. I like this!

Getting to the cushion, painting angels, committing to walking everyday, committing to kindness, as far as I’m concerned are all the same thing. I was born with a rebellious arrogant nature. Like the title of Bruce Springsteen’s song ‘Baby I was born to run’ says it all. For fun, recently, I went back and read the lyrics of this song. The last verse could be a Buddhist teaching:

The highways jammed with broken heroes on a last chance power drive
Everybody’s out on the run tonight but there's no place left to hide
Together Wendy we'll live with the sadness
Ill love you with all the madness in my soul
Someday girl I don't know when were gonna get to that place
Where we really want to go and we'll walk in the sun
But till then tramps like us baby we were born to run



The lyric suggests that when we befriend our wild loving human passionate nature and understand that we are all infallible; with a rich palate of emotions, and we all live with saddnes i.e.‘suffering’ then perhaps together we’ll walk in the sun (enlightenment). Yet until we’re willing to commit,'to love 'with all the madness in my soul', (change my to our) well there is more running to be done!



Any way, ‘not running’ is this morning’s theme.
Yesterday when returning from my morning walk, I saw the most extraordinary thing…
There was this one patch in the forest where light, breeze, and dangling fall leaves played. A mobile of light, wind, and leaf came together. The odd thing was there was no sign of breeze-disturbance anywhere else. Just in this one place. It was as if fairies were dancing all around in an unseen dimension and all that was visible to our mortal eye was their wake in the form of this light leaf wind dance. The triple jewel event of leaf, light, and wind, awed me.


Perhaps the grace of sticking to my daily practice of walking, or meditating or ‘angeling’ is surprise. One doesn’t know what or who or what aspect of themselves one will meet by honoring the commitment. On the meditation cushion last night I met fear and it was everything I could do to sit and breathe with and thru her. Fear had no face. Fear was a complete sensorial experience. I did not want to dishonor her with a story. She came and I wanted to know her more. The impulse was to run. Fear is VERY strong. I did not ask her where and what aspect of myself she harbors in and why she came. When I meet her again, I’ll be stronger and we’ll have a different conversation.

So is enlightment in the form of the great taking over or light and ‘ah ha ness of life’ my goal? Not really. (I wouldn’t turn the experience away.) Perhaps I’m not hungry enough for this. Commitment is my goal: 'The act of binding yourself (intellectually or emotionally) to a course of action.'

I like this definition!
For baby, I was born to run.

Angel discipline Angel fun

It’s 2:30 a.m. and I’m up and thinking about writing.

The angel project is teaching me so much. The self-imposed limitation of color in the project has me a bit stymied. I keep wondering if each angel is ‘interesting’ enough. I want to vary sizes or change this and that. I want to keep pushing boundaries and in this project the way it’s presently conceived, there are limitations. I want to push against the boundaries that I have created and run from the ‘problems’ that I’ve imposed. To finish one flight of 108 angels and see it hung on the wall, will tell me so much.

Where is ‘fun’ in the project and joy? Sometimes it’s simply about showing up and working. When this project is complete perhaps I will have learned something deep about ‘practice.” This piece, the shear longevity of it, is teaching me something about sticking with something and about belief.

I want to run from the angels daily, and I want to be with them.
I create other paintings in my head while I work, I think about other ways of working with the project. While I work, a good amount of energy is spent planning other pieces or on expansion of the present ideas rather than total present immersion in the present project. When I tell people about the mission of the angel’s and about the expression of ‘activism and prayer and a call toward aliveness, people usually say, “Sounds like your having fun!” Or “What fun!”

When folks come and visit and see the grid of 108 angels mapped out on my kitchen floor they are a bit astounded at the scope of the project. Fun, hmmm… So I looked a the definition of fun and here’s what I found:


• activities that are enjoyable or amusing; "I do it for the fun of it"; "he is fun to have around"
• verbal wit or mockery (often at another's expense but not to be taken seriously); "he became a figure of fun"; "he said it in sport"
• violent and excited activity; "she asked for money and then the fun began"; "they began to fight like fun"
• playfulness: a disposition to find (or make) causes for amusement; "her playfulness surprised me"; "he was fun to be with"

I was surprised by the definition around violence and fun. Any way this morning I am determined to bring more joy and exploration back into the angels. The larger scope is getting in the way of the wisdom of completing one angel at a time.

My neighbor Chris came in and gifted me with a story about the writer Amy Lamont’s brother who was assigned an a paper about birds when he was a young boy. The task of writing frightened him so much that he couldn’t complete his essay. Their father who is also a writer came in at the eleventh hour and counseled the boy. “ The way you complete the paper is one bird at a time.” I smiled. Yes the way to complete this project is one angel at a time. The reality, with all the other prep work there is still to complete, is I can realistically complete two to two and half angels a day.

So I will bring amusement and curiosity back into the project. I will not think about self-imposed deadlines. I will work on staying present with the angels. This becomes my work at the moment. Strange once again spending so much time on something that brings in no money.

Trust, commitment, and faith.

My friend Gina told me yesterday about an exhibit of Inuit women artists she had seen. She remembered reading that after child rearing, many older women became artists. They became the recorders of life through art. Art making was important. I found in my limited research some truth in that statement. However, the economic incentive was always mentioned first. Inuit women’s drawings, carvings, and prints were well received in the market place. The women found art making supported themselves and their families:

"Through art production women both experienced and described the changes that were occurring in Inuit culture. Art was one way they had of supporting themselves and their families when income was scarce. It was also a way to express and preserve their culture."

I feel my role as a women artist now in my 50's is changing. As a grandmother, I want to begin the discussion of eldership, and awaken the mission of stewardship and promote the possibility of kindness and acceptance. As I’ve said before art is becoming my small way of ringing an alarm and reminding folks that we have to come to together and address larger issues.

Art is also about visioning. I become one of the weavers of vision and not simply a chicken little who shouts the sky is falling…

I want to be one who carries a whole vision of humanness. I want to call to our innate remembrance of connective-ness. Art is still a soul call. It is quiet. There is resonance here that the soul understands. I want to sing and paint so our souls remember and play together well.
Art is a call: soul to soul.

Angel Contmeplation: Zen style

The Zen master strikes the gong and we are silenced into awareness.

Spent the morning with others meditating Zen style.
I aspire to find emptiness in ultimate connectivity: wondrous.

I understand now why folks strike clap and slap in Zen practices.
In that ‘mile’ second of ‘shock’ there is no separation/pure sensation.

So I settle into awareness trying not to contemplate.
Thought, thought, thought.
SLAP! A microsecond of what my old teacher framed as ISNESS

Sound wash
Sensation dancing thru tickles and tingles
Open more and more
Delight
Presence
And a giggle: becoming aware of my love of anticipation.
CLAP!


Buddha taught we all are enlightened…and have forgotten.

Remember. Remember.


CRACK!

Angel Grief

On Tuesday November 3rd voters in Portland, Maine went to the polls and voted YES On 1. This vote revoked the right for same-sexed couples to marry in Maine. I spent some time working for the No on 1 campaign. Civil rights are important to me. I do not feel its governments right to dictate how and whom one loves. There is much fear these days and so many dictates and persuasions form thinking. I was hoping the state I live in would be the first state in the nation to finally allow the right of marriage for all.

Watching how much trouble we as collective are having with change is upsetting. The struggle many have with the issue of same-sex marriage began mirroring the inability we as a society have toward change. The mighty dollar, education of our children, values, and religion is used, time and time again, as justification and cover for fear. And, have you noticed; everyone is a victim these days. Play the victim card in an argument and immediate sympathy abounds. I know I’m over simplifying my arguments. I honor some issues are very complex.


This morning, the question becomes how do I personally deal with moving forward in the face of what I feel is ethically immoral. How does one become a spiritual activist? Gandhi held a vision, he said No to violence, and embodied non-violence. He lived a footprint that reflected his beliefs. He walked his talk, and Gandhi was assassinated. Yet the resonance of how he lived and spirit lives on.

When are we as a nation going to take an ethical stand and say no? No to those who won’t provide health care for all citizens. No to those who feel their way of loving is wrong and others’ ways of loving are right. And say No to those who will not take a stand on climate change.


Claude Levi- Strauss was known as the father of anthropology. He lived to be 100. He found that roots of myth and story telling and ability to live in a connection with all of life were inherent in the language patterns of the tribes he studied. He was the first to unearth wisdom in ‘savage’ societies. The study of anthropology changed because of this man. This wise man, at the end of his life lost hope.

“There is today a frightful disappearance of living species, be they plants or animals. And it's clear that the density of human beings has become so great, if I can say so, that they have begun to poison themselves. And the world on which I am finishing my existence is no longer a world that I like.”

The sad part is, I think we understand the problems. And as Claude Levi-Strauss so bluntly points out there are many of us and we are taxing our resources on many fronts. And even though we may understand the harm our actions are causing, we still use money, religion, and politics, as justifications when forming a solution or opting for a non-solution.

No one wants to turn the ship. Scientists, economists, astute political and new age leaders are yelling, “Turn the ship, this vessel is taking us to a place we don’t want to go.” Who’s listening? We are leaving our children an inheritance of greed and grief. We think Obama was left with problems, the legacy we are gifting our children with bear’s examination.

I love people. I love earth. I love the magic of being alive. I don’t love what I am presently aligned with as an integral part of this culture and society. What is the stance of compassion in the face of cultural ignorance and dogma? How do I stand? What is the face of spiritual activisms? How do I act? What is the stance of active love? How do I love? These are my morning questions.

Fire Angels

Fire Angels

Last night several of us gathered around the fire and howled with the full moon. There were 8 of us. A friend’s 11-year-old son also joined the circle. It’s thrilling when kids are with us. At Pacha Works we have a tradition of allowing all to voice their intentions for the fire before the fire is lit. I am amazed at the ‘brightness' and light that is spoken by kids, and what their voiced wishes and dreams weave into the fire. Our soggy fire brightened, greeting the widely illuminated moon. I am grateful for all those who come and stand with me at fire, and blessed to have community in my life.

As I ruminate on all the concerns voiced around the fire last night and in particular the burden our children are carrying my heartaches. At 11, I didn’t live with planetary destruction at my doorstep. Thoughts that the Earth may become unsustainable for life, was not in my consciousness. Clean air to breathe, and water to drink was a given. Nuclear war however was a monthly event. I am a product of the tuck and duck generation. People actually believed we would be safe in the event of a nuclear attack if school children hid under desks. Ah, the selling of war. Now in today’s schools as many of our kids walk thru metal detectors, fire is the only drill in place. I hope complacency doesn’t kill our children’s spirits. I hope they remain as Obama’s stump speech ignited “Fired up and ready to go.” There is much to do.


The angels are being painted now. I must complete 3 a day. Staying on task becomes my practice. The discipline is intense. I laugh at myself. My neighbor walks and says Eva this is the fun part. Hmmm. I think: you’re not sitting here for 6 to 8 hours everyday painting angels. I’m so dammed lucky! The Buddhists title my place, fortunate birth, and they teach, with my excellent placement it is my duty to help others so we all may experience the same peace. Once again as yesterday, I think of what others are enduring at this moment and my complaints vanish. I will paint angels with relish and abandonment. And with each stroke I will become more aware and tuned to the dread, and the hope, and the grief, and the despair, and the bafflement and the joy I carry inside. The angle’s become an opportunity to watch thought and honor and release feelings. Painting angels becomes my meditation. It’s exciting to witness each angel take on personality as I paint. I am grateful for the gifts this project brings.


Today my peace action is painting angels. I am grateful for the opportunity to complete a round of 108 angel prayers for peace. I listended to Senator Mitchell yesterday. I believe we have to really want to undo conflict and believe we can. I agree with him when he reminds us humans have created this way of problem solving and humans can change the engagement. Honoring our need for destruction at the expense of others is becoming more and more un-acceptable in my humble worldview.

May I understand the pieces of violence inside myself, and heal these parts. May I have the courage to bring my destructive feelings and behavior to the fire so all may transform.

Full Moon and Angels

Finished the grid last night and have drawn the design onto the 7.5'X10' grid. I've also placed all but 30 angels on the grid.
I’ve developed an allergy to wood.
Had all the angels cut out and in the middle of sanding, even though I was wearing a mask, my throat and lungs were beginning to clog up. One needs their lungs! Thankfully, my friend Ken will be sanding the last ones for me. He hopes to have them to me by the middle of the week. I will prime them when they arrive on Wednesday or Thursday and by Sat. the whole grid should be complete.

Today I begin tracing the angels onto tracing paper and then I will be tracing the piece of design each angel will embody onto the angels. The idea is for each angel to stand alone as a complete object and when part of the 108 flight, an embedded design code will emerge. Huge undertaking and I'm curious to see if I can pull this off.

Volunteering this a.m. early with the No on 1 campaign.
Helping with 'wake up call's' for Maine’s equality.
These calls remind other volunteers of their assigned duties and where to meet. Excited to be part of a piece of history in the making. So many folks are coming forward to help. I am amazed by the amount of activism that goes on in our state. “As goes Maine so goes the nation.” I wonder when we become the first state in our nation having gay marriage on the books, if other states will have the courage to follow? The world is changing so fast these days.

The moon this a.m. is so potent: a full moon in Taurus in the sun sign of Scorpio. My birthday is at the end of the month. I love the days leading up to my birthday more than my birthday. The anticipation about my birthday arriving has always excited me. The actual day of usually shocks me. Wonder what this is about. I’ve had some memorable moments. My children bringing me cards, friends surprising me, lovers making me sumptuous dinners and bringing flowers, and still I always feel let down. This is an opportunity to find out more about birthdays!! I'll be turning 57. When I see 57 in print it scares me. That is a lot of years to have walked the planet. I hope to see larger numbers in print. There is so much to be grateful for. I do hope I have the opportunity to help more in some small way. There is so much pain and so much joy. Sometimes I am amazed at how many lives and ways of living are going on at the same moment. Some are asleep, some are hungry, some are satisfied, some are in love, some are being hurt, some are hurting others and some are easing someone’s pain, some are eating, some are using drugs they are terribly addicted to, some are in hiding, some are fleeing, some are content, some are in anguish, some are struggling, some are alone, some are in loving families and some are not. Some live in a place of war and some live in a place of peace and some are in limbo and some are somewhere else. There certainly are a huge amount of discordant emotions, languages, cultures, ideas and beliefs all being thrown into the air at once. It’s amazing we can think at all with the airwaves so crammed. I'm beginning to understand the wisdom of creating peace.

May I become part of the great collage of humanity in a way that eases suffering and creates luminosity.

Oil and Angels

This Morning Nov. 1st I wake early.

I'm constructing a grid, ten feet by seven and half feet whole. Large rolled white paper was purchased yesterday for this task. The grid will hold the 108 angels in a 9' by 12' rectangle. With this grid as a tool, I will be able to transcribe the bigger design code the angels will form when all together. As one friend said yesterday, "Well Eva, you've definitely found a way to keep yourself busy!” I asked her if she thought I had gone mad, and she commented, "You clearly have a lot of passion for this project. What's wrong with passion..?" Good question. So much good has been done in the name of passion and so much bad. I pray that this creative passion will allow my voice to sing toward the cause of responsibility that I’m guided to convey. The project at its root is about forming a world based on the ideals of kindness and compassion. Listen, I am no Polly Ana…

I’m simply tired of waking up to news of oil spills and war.
That being said, I do see groups arising, who are educating each other with understanding and listening as roots rather than arranging solutions to problems based from old fears. This heartens me.

However, this morning, I find tears rolling down my cheeks and grief in my heart upon hearing about the oil that has once again fallen in our oceans. This time oil creeps in the waters around San Francisco. The effect this spill will have on life surrounding the bay area even though I live in Maine sickens me.

I am becoming acutely aware with ‘felt’ understanding and insight of just how big our feet have grown. We continue walking in the spirit of ownership and ignorance. My heart fills with grief as I look at the clumsy trails we have crafted, and all the justifications used as tools toward reason…. Soon we will no longer be able to find shoes for these monstrous appendages. We have been the champions of ignorance and have disregarded our indigenous roots of interconnectedness with all life in the name of progress and civilization. We have inspired others to follow in our large footsteps and this deeply hurts. We are very good at marketing.

(There are those who are using marketing and design as tools toward understanding, I acknowledge and solute groups like Project M.)

May my little angels inspire angelic warriorship, and encourage spreading grander seed codes as we develop courage to look at all the dogma that is presently winding us; albeit, medically, spiritually, socially, economically, politically. May we come to understand whose agendas we have been serving. May we heal our personal hurts so we may clearly see the world and ourselves.
This is my wish.

I also want to acknowledge and honor the passing of Ted Andrew. His book Animal Speaks has been one of my bibles, and has furthered my understanding of connection with the animal spirit kingdom. May his spirit animals and connections carry him across the Grand River with ease.

Today on this Nov. 1st day in November in Maine, it’s an extraordinarily warm and beautiful day and I’m going for a walk!! Allow my humble walk be an honoring and celebration of fall and all the beauty around me. Colors. Wow!! So Exquisite.

Whose been touched by angels?

Have just posted a discussion to 108 angels group. Whose been touched by angels.

As I wake to begin working with my wooden angels, I contemplate kindness.
Been practicing a meditation that was given to me in a mandala painting workshop by my friend Paul Heusenstamm (more about Paul at mandalas.com) an act of simply holding kindness in my heart and watching kindness grow as a flower.

Amazing how my body is both able to take in the sweetness of the experience and condition the experience at the same time. I was reading in Cheryl Richardson's book about the art of being kind to ourselves. How kindness is not about 'giving in' but about standing in radical truth with a compassionate heart. I think we mix up so many emotions together under the guise of understanding ourselves.

I find I do condition my kindness. I wonder when I am not afraid and experience all of who I am if then innately I become more open to others.

Simple morning thoughts.

108 Angels

Oct. 29th 2009.

The Heart of the 108 Angels project.

While traveling in Peru last March, I was taken to a high point around Puno. From this place one can see Lake Titicaca. This high mound is known as one of the gathering spots for shamans. Local folks arrive and search for a medicine person who will act as a master of ceremony for various rituals and blessings. People bring cars, figures of houses, amulets, etc. to these local shamans. They also bring their troubles, joys, and illness that are calling for healing. These local healers create dispatios (medicine bundles) or other ceremonies and offerings that will ease the needs of those who seek.

Here on this magical rock resides a chapel where many offerings are placed. The inside of the chapel is painted with heavenly scenes. On one of the walls lives a painted angel in a folk art style. I stared at this small angel for quite awhile, wondering why this figure and other angelic figures transfix and inspire us so.

I didn't think much of this angelic wonderment or meeting at the time. And to be honest was a little dubious of all the healers hawking their wares. The shamans were adorned with bibs, reminiscent of soccer bibs worn at schools when the same class is divided into teams so one team can distinguish itself from the other. These bibs announced and distinguished healers from lay persons and certified a right to practice as a medicine carrier. I was also distracted by the many radio, cell phone and T.V. towers erected on this spot as well. I wrongly judged the 'power' of the place to be a bit co-opted by these electronic giants. Two worldviews complete with their own 'technologies’ residing side by side. No competition, simply facts of the world changing and old wisdom still having a place.

Four months latter, when I returned to Maine, I began painting winged creatures and called them angels. In Peru embodiments of the mountains are said to fly. The mountains or Apus are grand winged beings and bigger than my conception of angels. I continued painting these figures and remembered the small painted angel found in the chapel. Clearly this little folk art angel had my number and was working me! Who am I to judge power? Being embraced by this chapel angel has become a wonderful lesson in humility and strength.

6 months latter, I find myself guided to paint 108 wooden angels.
I joke with folks that angels have possessed me. And though I joke, the project consumes me. I have more energy than I have had in years for my creativity. And I wonder where the angels and all the hours I’m spending with them will lead.

I will be updating the progress and sharing more about the mission of these small angels as it grows inside me.

For now, I am committed to recording the progress of the 108 angel project and the development of the angels.