Angeldom

The first flight of angels is complete. This is a miracle!!

My sister and I will be hanging all the angels this weekend.
My sister and I have not worked on project together since we were small. Perhaps the angels have called her to come and help. She works as a producer for a well known artist in NYC. She has a high pressured job, and yet she has chosen to come to Maine and help me. My sister understands how to bring a project to closure.

Today I will be cutting 108 pieces of wood for mounting the angels on the wall and figuring out which wall the flight will rest on. Once the 'Flight of Compassion' is installed, I'll have more of an understanding of the mission of these winged ones. Will the angels be released separately or will they remain as part of the community they were created in? Stay tuned.....




'You've been Angeled'.
what is your's to do?

Angel Pod

Full moon soon. Tonight was glorious. Went out to dinner with friends. We shared a bottle of delicious red wine, good food and good conversation. I've been caving for too long,(it is winter) and coming out into the open was lovely.

We spoke of the giving group. The idea: a pod of people comeing together to discuss giving a donation of $5 each a month. The group will choose the charity for the month and then donate the whole amount to the chosen cause. Simple. The whole idea is to begin a charitable gifting group. My hope is we will choose to gift locally. Coming together and doing more than what can be done alone has always interested me. The motivation for this group is to become an independent cohesive unit of giving, and to practice active compassion. That's it. How it manifests or grows is up to the group.

The moon waxes and now I begin to wane... satiated and satisfied by the day, the wine and the food, sleep creeps in. Filled with gratitude for those presently in my life, I begin to drift into the land of dreams. My heart aches for those around me in my community or the world who are not in ease. And as sleep nears a prayer is whispered, may those who are hurting find their way. May those who suffer find comfort. May those in misery be held.

The mystery of life is daunting.

Angel Relief

Angel Relief

Disasters provide an opportunity for us to remember our oneness. We remember the heart of who we are. Something cracks inside us and for a moment, and we are one family. Brothers and sisters in need, we see each other and we hear the screams of help and we touch. The world has become so small. Technology affords us a way to see, hear, sense and we reach out. We want to touch because we have to. This is our nature. We help our tribe, we become one village, focused, and engaged with a song of unity in our hearts.

I have been moved by the out-pouring of love in the form of $ and resource that we Americans and the world can bestow on another country when needed. My heart ached when I saw the devastation the Earth Quake caused in Haiti. Charity’s and organizations like candy were there for the picking and I like many gave scattering my donation as seeds amongst three charities that I resonated with. I had a delightful time choosing. I was astounded by how many organizations have ‘helping’ as their mission. There also were so many corporations who stepped up and helped. Impressive to say the least!


I have also been touched by the power of mother earth and what she is capable of once again.
Perhaps in her own way she was sending a message. This may be her wake up call to us.
Yep, Mama is still in charge.


The world becomes smaller and smaller. With a flick of a finger we can organize millions of people. Those with electronic know how can install systems in a flash that allow aid workers, countries and people to come together via a phone. We can reach a loved one thru a database.
We organize airports and donate planes. Bulldozers and other rescue and medical equipment are flown in within hours. The amount of people with skills to help within a minutes is remarkable!

It took Mama Earth to shake us up. For the truth is Haiti has been crying a long time. The great conundrum is though economically pour, her soul is rich beyond measure. The art and music coming from Haiti is vibrant!

I like to look at the big picture. I can’t help it. It’s my nature. Crisis sharpens us. I guess my question is: Why can’t we find the sharpness we have in crises, when problem solving around issues that are dogging us here at home? (‘Affordable HealthCare For All’ for instance.) Over the past few years we have learned, we know how to solve problems. We’re good at it. I see, like myself, we have a kind of attention deficit disorder. We tend to loose our focus. We are great the moment the alarm is sounded. We feel alive. Threats are a daily treat or ‘Tweet’. My other question is: What happens in Haiti a year form now? We still haven’t finished cleaning up after Katrina. We know how to deliver aid effectively within minutes. Haiti once again reminded us how good we are at this. Millions of dollars are found at a moments notice! Amazing. Many of us like to help. How can we channel this energy more effectively at home? We know we can find money. (Saving banks has shown us this…) Red Alert America, children are hungry, and people are dying because they cannot afford to seek medical attention!! Alarm. Alarm. Our schools need funding…. !!! Perhaps if we keep the threat out of airports and in our cities and towns we could shine like the stars we are! A simple thought.

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.