tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88075496617124684602024-03-04T23:14:35.749-05:00Wonderings of a Wandering MindKatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07675007358159204799noreply@blogger.comBlogger44125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807549661712468460.post-83438494177564655992012-01-29T13:09:00.000-05:002012-01-29T13:09:21.558-05:00The Stirring of the Seeds<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKTXQ9y6jLQZjCHCcYfNj3zLPMWNo_bnNjeTCe2nbY0IHpM8leuWMy8VWJbySDxHny4oNT74a8lvhmKuGekYKLJtkBf0cOSRT0bSV9B5wZQBfvft-_z7gcb5Yan1JZGJMqs9lSaTcKixI/s1600/koch+snowflake+97.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKTXQ9y6jLQZjCHCcYfNj3zLPMWNo_bnNjeTCe2nbY0IHpM8leuWMy8VWJbySDxHny4oNT74a8lvhmKuGekYKLJtkBf0cOSRT0bSV9B5wZQBfvft-_z7gcb5Yan1JZGJMqs9lSaTcKixI/s200/koch+snowflake+97.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Last night, I joined my Womenspirit sistah Tarleton Brooks in one of her monthly Sacred Circle Dances, this one to honor and celebrate Imbolc. Tarleton offered for me to write and read a meditation for the dancers. I did, and here it is for anyone else interested in using this meditation to celebrate this ancient holyday of "in the belly".</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkwCXji4wmjnQuhyphenhyphen3M0L0XKMhqj8ArBaiIJelO9AOFrBW8RztT2TjsCWgn3TOv2s3ue1izlFFBnLM7bZKFfF1OiFNoitb4VOV1C_mb_uEuEGuxNuw7Nt14oyznZL6qX-k9IkbWjRA0QoU/s1600/baby+in+belly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkwCXji4wmjnQuhyphenhyphen3M0L0XKMhqj8ArBaiIJelO9AOFrBW8RztT2TjsCWgn3TOv2s3ue1izlFFBnLM7bZKFfF1OiFNoitb4VOV1C_mb_uEuEGuxNuw7Nt14oyznZL6qX-k9IkbWjRA0QoU/s200/baby+in+belly.jpg" width="160" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkwCXji4wmjnQuhyphenhyphen3M0L0XKMhqj8ArBaiIJelO9AOFrBW8RztT2TjsCWgn3TOv2s3ue1izlFFBnLM7bZKFfF1OiFNoitb4VOV1C_mb_uEuEGuxNuw7Nt14oyznZL6qX-k9IkbWjRA0QoU/s1600/baby+in+belly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPZkKjrijKmxdJvVzKgLoEQYOcpDwz7aG2CAFd-f3TyxiC5RN48BHNDddBREwfep50xnw8P8KGw1h3Kq3hp2BeBAou2Az-BWmDfLVPczww-oV1wfeW9Z5VjEWZxFLOXjA_o2l4e7pnblM/s1600/hex+complex.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Imbolc, which in Celtic means “in the belly” is a holyday representing Hope. This is the celebration of the stirring of the seeds underground. Day by day, darkness gives way to light at morning and evening. There is a sense of the eventual coming of spring, but we feel a restlessness or cabin fever also. This can be the bleakest time of the year when we can wonder if spring will ever come. We long to spend more time outdoors instead of hidden inside. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>What seeds are stirring in you? What is restless to emerge? What of yourself do you wish to bring to light instead of to keep in darkness?</i></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiZ8cPGiqNIezlZwIFt-wsiI4_fmfZalmJyCYr4GufZN_k6wQsRJvf1JAfK88sVmI7FhZYhsIQ9bgZiWbQR98-Rvp8h4s2jEZyXS_QKTKpzBJySXIYuQlD3ZVKyMw0mHzSGGm5ON6usSI/s1600/18+cube+w+starburst.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="163" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiZ8cPGiqNIezlZwIFt-wsiI4_fmfZalmJyCYr4GufZN_k6wQsRJvf1JAfK88sVmI7FhZYhsIQ9bgZiWbQR98-Rvp8h4s2jEZyXS_QKTKpzBJySXIYuQlD3ZVKyMw0mHzSGGm5ON6usSI/s200/18+cube+w+starburst.jpg" width="200" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Imbolc is a solar holyday, based on the position of the earth to the sun. It has traditionally been celebrated as a fire festival, and also honors Brigid (or Bride), the ancient Celtic goddess of poetry, healing and smithing. It is a celebration of fertility of the coming spring, both with livestock as well as crops. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>What do you want to fertilize in yourself? What do you want fire to activate or purify in your life? What do you hope to heal? </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Smithing is about hammering and forging metals into a desired shape for a desired function. What are you needing to forge in your life?</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The Christianized holiday placed on Imbolc is Candlemas, when there are candle ceremonies throughout the world, welcoming the return of the light of the sun. So strong a figure was Brigid in the Irish culture that she was made into a saint in the early Christian church, and Candlemas is her day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Candles represent light and life and enlightenment. What do you choose to shed light upon? </i></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPZkKjrijKmxdJvVzKgLoEQYOcpDwz7aG2CAFd-f3TyxiC5RN48BHNDddBREwfep50xnw8P8KGw1h3Kq3hp2BeBAou2Az-BWmDfLVPczww-oV1wfeW9Z5VjEWZxFLOXjA_o2l4e7pnblM/s1600/hex+complex.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPZkKjrijKmxdJvVzKgLoEQYOcpDwz7aG2CAFd-f3TyxiC5RN48BHNDddBREwfep50xnw8P8KGw1h3Kq3hp2BeBAou2Az-BWmDfLVPczww-oV1wfeW9Z5VjEWZxFLOXjA_o2l4e7pnblM/s200/hex+complex.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Groundhog day is also celebrated on Imbolc. Legend has it that if the groundhog sees his shadow, we will have six more weeks of winter; if he doesn’t see his shadow, we will enjoy an early spring. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>What would you like to see as you emerge from the dark into the light? What do you want to birth into the spring? As we are still in the season of hibernation, now is the time to incubate and gestate these desires.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Imbolc celebrates the early birthing of the lambs and the production of ewe’s milk. Birthing is a powerful process, followed by careful tending of the fragile newborns. The lambs must be kept warm and nourished in order for them to grow and thrive.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>What do you hope to birth? How can you nurture this desire and prepare it for labor? How can you continue to sustain it so it can grow into its strength and thrive?</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Now is the time of the new moon, the waxing crescent, a time of the young Maiden, of Artemis aiming her bow and arrow high into the skies. It is a time of the growth of the lunar light. Let the lunar energy help you to connect with the growth within you as we celebrate this rich holyday.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Blessed Be.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I hope you find peace and joy today in Nature and her wonders.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Kate</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">(For more info on UU Womenspirit, visit www.uuwomenspirit.org)</span><br />
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<br /></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07675007358159204799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807549661712468460.post-55118594313593155302010-10-10T20:21:00.000-04:002010-10-10T20:21:45.434-04:00October 10 - Dolphin Dreams<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVmd1UwVhbJqQgurgKcErieEI_sJax1-f3A35Dq_iBuXgJOWeTqDtwqtKCqxqE26o-E2958ZMArXYB3DbXzMd-oABIX2h-B83hSzg_8efoCfwOx0eBDlYrYjKT-GNOj6SSVQU-7Ho_K5w/s1600/dolphins.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="169" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVmd1UwVhbJqQgurgKcErieEI_sJax1-f3A35Dq_iBuXgJOWeTqDtwqtKCqxqE26o-E2958ZMArXYB3DbXzMd-oABIX2h-B83hSzg_8efoCfwOx0eBDlYrYjKT-GNOj6SSVQU-7Ho_K5w/s200/dolphins.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
Today is 10/10/10, a date that I knew must be an auspicious one. I find numbers and their relationships pretty fascinating (although it is a fancy, not a study), and I can never resist triple repeats of a number. <br />
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I received an email from a friend stating that today <b><i>is </i></b>an auspicious date for us to accept the transmission of the "Crystalline Portals of the Oceans". I watched a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YeZnz7ZUMlk&feature=player_embedded">You-tube video</a> on this which focuses on dolphins and whales as transmitters of love and light and how their energy work flows to all peoples through all the oceans. Well, I don't know anything about the Crystalline Portals of the Oceans, but I do know a little about dolphins.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3YCnKHcQL6MmoBhCvEMcwPAZrITni0x2_NpgQkssGX62MeXWOnY15ZBWDzO0fV7WGmF_ZIf5p3Thrt1ypW3AQSXPAmqRrtVofcyK-5lw4_hn0poUvjxiTgFVE0hKThbG6daff4xl-37Y/s1600/dolphin+w+ball.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="128" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3YCnKHcQL6MmoBhCvEMcwPAZrITni0x2_NpgQkssGX62MeXWOnY15ZBWDzO0fV7WGmF_ZIf5p3Thrt1ypW3AQSXPAmqRrtVofcyK-5lw4_hn0poUvjxiTgFVE0hKThbG6daff4xl-37Y/s200/dolphin+w+ball.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
I have been drawn to dolphins and whales ever since I can remember. When I was in elementary school, our family traveled to Marineland in Florida and one of the dolphins there decided to play catch with my Mom. It surprised my Mom, and the beach ball the dolphin tossed to her soaked her entire shirt! The dolphin started laughing, and so did my Mom! I wished that dolphin had picked ME to play with...<br />
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Often, my Mom would give me gifts that had a theme of dolphins: glass sculptures, small statues, jewelry, etc. For herself, she loved hummingbirds and images of them were all through and around her home (including live ones she would feed just outside her kitchen window). <br />
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When I originally entered college, I majored in Biology Education with the thought that if I wanted to continue school after I earned my B.S. degree, I would study Marine Biology at the College of Charleston. They had a large research center on James Island in Charleston, and I knew I would enjoy studying there. For various reasons, I switched my major to English Education, so I never followed through on studying Marine Biology even though it still fascinates me.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqsIUFeIabjFl_q6HzpCD1mLg5-pEx47bO5Z19mB8yxDJYgQnoSkddjHjkC9ZjBtMUPa2B9nans2F63jzClbF35Jic16alSyDwtOL-CB52ze7AkXL_9hHKjMOGvzJQgXsyJROEgomsbnM/s1600/nuzzling+dolphins.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="125" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqsIUFeIabjFl_q6HzpCD1mLg5-pEx47bO5Z19mB8yxDJYgQnoSkddjHjkC9ZjBtMUPa2B9nans2F63jzClbF35Jic16alSyDwtOL-CB52ze7AkXL_9hHKjMOGvzJQgXsyJROEgomsbnM/s200/nuzzling+dolphins.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
Dolphins even graced our wedding weekend. A friend gave us their front-beach house at Seabrook Island to use for the weekend and we invited friends from out of town to spend the weekend there with us. Sunday morning -- after our Saturday wedding -- we were all enjoying a walk on the beach when a pod of dolphins began playing just offshore. It felt like a blessing to have their joy so close to us.<br />
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But it wasn't until my 40s that I realized how closely connected I am to dolphins. (After all, doesn't <i>everyone </i>love dolphins? What's not to love?) In 1998 I went on my first retreat to swim with dolphins in the Florida Keys. The retreat, led by <a href="http://yancey.main.nc.us/~blange/arthomepageindex.html">Barbara Lange</a>, was an opening for me in many ways. We stayed at a beautiful location on Islamorada Key, visited dolphins and other saltwater creatures at <a href="http://www.theaterofthesea.com/">Theater of the Sea</a>, and created art of all kinds. It was a great time! <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7yYHPe3tbScYRxxSlBjdSpuwmHNZ6oP-NHntNPpHii3bz_AcgaDhgqmHTQGtK6G-WVnDumBCdGu5Yd28hjjUTuhVBkOXouPHJ0SpNJ5RUlZ30oyO2CFeJjDdUseWoFSx2zfMqJxsovXg/s1600/trio+of+dolpins.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7yYHPe3tbScYRxxSlBjdSpuwmHNZ6oP-NHntNPpHii3bz_AcgaDhgqmHTQGtK6G-WVnDumBCdGu5Yd28hjjUTuhVBkOXouPHJ0SpNJ5RUlZ30oyO2CFeJjDdUseWoFSx2zfMqJxsovXg/s200/trio+of+dolpins.jpg" width="200" /></a>Being with the dolphins is absolutely magical. One can <i><b>feel </b></i>the joy and wisdom the dolphins hold, both physically and emotionally. Being in the water with them, I really wanted to play with them, but the "trainers" were very strict. (I put "trainers" in quotes because <i>some </i>of them just don't know what they are doing OR don't appreciate the animals they are working with. An example: At Theater of the Sea, one of the female dolphins that we were swimming with was in heat and was not paying attention to <i>us </i>as much as to the <i>males </i>in the area next to ours. They were separated by an underwater cyclone fence that extended a few inches above the surface of the water. I asked one of the young trainers why the dolphins don't jump over the fencing, and he said, "Because <i>we </i>teach them to jump, <i>they </i>don't do it naturally." Hmmmm... they why all those joyful, playful jumps and rolls we see in all footage of wild dolphins...? It is baffling that anyone could be that glib about such magnificent, intelligent creatures! By the way, dolphins are the only species in addition to humans that engage in sex for the fun of it. All other creatures do it for procreation. At least that's what I've read; who knows how one discerns the reasons animals have sex...) <br />
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Another time that left me scratching my head was on that same trip when we swam with another group of dolphins. Their regular trainer wasn't there that day, but the head trainer, a German man who didn't seem to like working with dolphins (!) was there instead (we dubbed him "The Teutonic Plague"). And I can tell you, the dolphins certainly didn't seem to like <i>him</i>! They pretty much ignored him... but when we absconded with the fish bucket, the dolphins were all ABOUT paying attention to us! Again, we had a blast with them. At one point, two dolphins used their beaks against the soles of my feet to push me around the enclosure while I was floating on my back. I laughed and laughed and <i>laughed</i>! I felt full of joy and humor... and I attribute it all to dolphins.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN5F1z-oataSR1IY6EJXTu5Cr2uIxXWQmarHxlXTPwEionZ-JbV8Ri1tNS2y1E77sgc8k6xWCY0INUXOFX34DBFkzl5mYdhVpPjrA14Gnf-P6hlTC4XKJIAjrNhN6toh2BoSl78PPQ-Ts/s1600/dolphin+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN5F1z-oataSR1IY6EJXTu5Cr2uIxXWQmarHxlXTPwEionZ-JbV8Ri1tNS2y1E77sgc8k6xWCY0INUXOFX34DBFkzl5mYdhVpPjrA14Gnf-P6hlTC4XKJIAjrNhN6toh2BoSl78PPQ-Ts/s200/dolphin+2.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
Right after that first swim at Theater of the Sea, I left with a terrible headache. We were all to meet later that afternoon to discuss our experiences. I took a short nap after returning, then wrote about my experience. The phrase that kept nudging me in my mind was, "Light, Love, and Laughter," but as I wrote, I ignored it because I didn't know where the thought came from. But when we all circled together later that afternoon, another woman on the retreat read that she had received, "Light, Love, and Laughter" from the dolphins! I was shocked that she had understood the very same words that I had from our swim. I now know better to trust those intuitive nudges.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0XnZxRmaf7FSMe5v9rgAzmrFFTKOyNCVjmpjLVv400lZhhyejl2EMXrICwoEMFRdxXatbL12XHEX7bpgUQPWhlIVpQ_rwFw3jFwXKC4QslNV43UiCTwje3lKM8P5PwmgOEHrStGh6x0g/s1600/bottlenose_dolphin_1249780c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="125" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0XnZxRmaf7FSMe5v9rgAzmrFFTKOyNCVjmpjLVv400lZhhyejl2EMXrICwoEMFRdxXatbL12XHEX7bpgUQPWhlIVpQ_rwFw3jFwXKC4QslNV43UiCTwje3lKM8P5PwmgOEHrStGh6x0g/s200/bottlenose_dolphin_1249780c.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
Two years later, Andrew and I took our three kids to the Keys for a New Years holiday and we went swimming with the dolphins as a special way to welcome 2000. While Allen and Paige were too young, Paul was just old enough to join the group. When he was in the water with the dolphins, his countenance was literally transformed into pure bliss! What a memory that is! I remember a young dolphin nudging up to me as I stood in the water waiting for my turn. His name was Eclipse, a perfect name for a dolphin. And while we were warned not to touch the dolphins, I regret not petting him since he had sought me out. I need to learn to follow my <i>inner </i>instructions as well as I follow external directions.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcidDuf9IDRtAQcbnshclkQDQcJWdvg0-08JlEdIFFf6diHPRU4AUwbR1UKp7QQIOS6hpTYLaqT89YlAaJn8p_5KII6U1CyFsVnUqUNQsAfz1weJK9KcFXk8jubRMwKj2-ABB-fBRvGHU/s1600/surfing+dolphins.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcidDuf9IDRtAQcbnshclkQDQcJWdvg0-08JlEdIFFf6diHPRU4AUwbR1UKp7QQIOS6hpTYLaqT89YlAaJn8p_5KII6U1CyFsVnUqUNQsAfz1weJK9KcFXk8jubRMwKj2-ABB-fBRvGHU/s1600/surfing+dolphins.jpg" /></a></div>
A year or two later, I went with Barbara on a retreat to Bimini to swim with wild dolphins. We only were able to swim one time with them (there is, of course, no guarantee in the wild), and they seemed interested that we were there. At one point, the boat we were on was creating a large wake, and the dolphins, like chariot horses of Neptune, leapt and played in the wake! What a sight. What a blessing.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil1X9ENANXenw4UximynRmBc_xcBFXt1KfQYn2EU0wMXYDsimAOhsDEKnmffWMc9h6VBfFuwjwvFm0CroXwy6URKsg1tAlqqnm6QO8mesLv4BJJ34SqfVTCn50JrCiOxnuokDr-RI8FtQ/s1600/humpback+mama.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil1X9ENANXenw4UximynRmBc_xcBFXt1KfQYn2EU0wMXYDsimAOhsDEKnmffWMc9h6VBfFuwjwvFm0CroXwy6URKsg1tAlqqnm6QO8mesLv4BJJ34SqfVTCn50JrCiOxnuokDr-RI8FtQ/s200/humpback+mama.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
I've never seen a whale in person, only on TV and in photographs. I can't imagine how powerful they must be in real life! I have a CD with humpback whale songs that I sometimes listen to when I am creating art. I swear one of them sounds like Curly (of the Three Stooges) with its "Nyuck, Nyuck, Nyuck" sounds. They make me smile... and wonder. Their song can be heard all up and down the Pacific Ocean. Imagine the power in that!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh481qWIFFfVU3N72y18QYQiJP9QjGFq_JrAoJ1HtBMKPqJFddnTQ0J8eRMIAEuWss8CPjI6GG43esnUwdcKjFGr491eJ-KlB-GJcvVavY40BlYAfUucIHc14-yL-449KPgQ4zMiHn1s_I/s1600/humpback+flukes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh481qWIFFfVU3N72y18QYQiJP9QjGFq_JrAoJ1HtBMKPqJFddnTQ0J8eRMIAEuWss8CPjI6GG43esnUwdcKjFGr491eJ-KlB-GJcvVavY40BlYAfUucIHc14-yL-449KPgQ4zMiHn1s_I/s200/humpback+flukes.jpg" width="200" /></a>One of these days, I hope Andrew and I can follow the whales as they migrate up the west coast on the coastal highway from Baja to Alaska. Maybe we could even start off in Hawaii, then fly back and rejoin them in the States. Then spend a month or so camping and exploring Alaska and watching them feed and dance off the coast. <br />
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I hope you have an auspicious day today, 10-10-10.<br />
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Peace,<br />
KateKatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07675007358159204799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807549661712468460.post-31760018784636108382010-10-07T15:50:00.000-04:002010-10-07T15:50:50.199-04:00October 7 - Autumn Memories<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSaUnSk4Hnj9vqA3EuECkgTE4-tHhj0iUGtTPHmJKdiS-Xg7_8CHmG1sf6CzQomjtSx7oZCNaDHe_iuRJaOtzHRpla2dXOXwXBBTihN117b7aLcSVic7McK5mO2JXD1L3R3p1WVbGXITw/s1600/4+circles,+4+crescents,+4+swirls+06.09+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSaUnSk4Hnj9vqA3EuECkgTE4-tHhj0iUGtTPHmJKdiS-Xg7_8CHmG1sf6CzQomjtSx7oZCNaDHe_iuRJaOtzHRpla2dXOXwXBBTihN117b7aLcSVic7McK5mO2JXD1L3R3p1WVbGXITw/s200/4+circles,+4+crescents,+4+swirls+06.09+copy.jpg" width="200" /></a>Autumn is my very favorite time of year. I love everything about it: the true blue sky, the warm sunlight golden on trees blazing with color, the crisp, cool air, the smell of the first stove fires of the season, hot apple cider (with butterscotch schnapps!), the harvest of fruits and veggies, the layers of clothes with nubby textures wrapping us like cocoons, the energetic excitement of Nature's dance before resting. <br />
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Fall of 1984 was an especially important time for me. I had just started getting to know Andrew as a friend; we had stayed up all night on his screened in porch, talking as we rocked in wooden rocking chairs, and I had learned of his love of camping. I relished camping also. I also cherished hot air balloons. So when I learned of a Hot Air Balloon Rally on the weekend of Sept. 21, I knew I wanted to go and see all the beautiful balloons lifting off and peacefully floating away. And I knew I wanted to invite Andrew, but wasn't ready for a trip with just the two of us, so I asked my friend Martha if she would go with us. Always up for an adventure, Martha said yes, and Andrew agreed to go (why not? Traveling with TWO women! What's not to love?). So the three of us (plus Katie, of course) took off in my Oldsmobile Cutlass from Charleston headed for Statesville, North Carolina, packed to the gills for our camping adventure.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRWI36y4w4YqmplRlNUpEiO2LFxDGl5ABmPZ1dXIdqNm_N3V3wq4MMPRhe8LWO9UhWJe5LMPO0bzB22tuvuUsX75B3sOZXVXo0mPLQ1rJS1f-5C2N89Z1nz1jtBLnC1B4P-4d_0dJr9io/s1600/swirling+yin+yangs+07.09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRWI36y4w4YqmplRlNUpEiO2LFxDGl5ABmPZ1dXIdqNm_N3V3wq4MMPRhe8LWO9UhWJe5LMPO0bzB22tuvuUsX75B3sOZXVXo0mPLQ1rJS1f-5C2N89Z1nz1jtBLnC1B4P-4d_0dJr9io/s200/swirling+yin+yangs+07.09.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
Andrew drove some and I drove some. And Martha asked Andrew the questions that I was less comfortable asking (like, are you involved with anyone?), while I listened. The first night we stayed at Andrew's parents' cabin in Saluda, NC; Martha and I slept in the king bed with Andrew across the hall in the double bed. The next morning, we drove through Hendersonville on our way to breakfast (my first visit here, which is where we live now) and the interstate to head for Statesville. We had a flat tire along the way, and while Andrew replaced the flat, Martha and I stood on the side of the highway ready to help. Martha had beautiful long black hair down below her hips, and with her cowgirl hat and jeans on, she attracted a lot of interest from the truckers! We finally arrived at the rally site outside of Statesville (there was no MapQuest back then!) and learned that the lift-off wouldn't occur again until the cooler temperatures of dusk. So we hung out under any shade we could find, listen to music, and watched people. I especially remember a beautiful woman in a form-fitting red dress who wandered through the crowd... and Andrew's eyes following her as long as she was in sight. Otherwise, I only remember the heat. Whew, it was hot!<br />
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Finally, the balloons were ready to lift off into the late afternoon sky. I tried to take pictures of all the colors rising into the sky, but finally just put my camera down to see the panorama of color and designs. It was breath taking! Slow majestic beauty languidly rising into the blue sky in the autumn sun. What a cornucopia of beauty!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiymIHmfZAxCn_NGbWR6VnMw0ke6Ic7mfH4tKeZYjwJDeJ-7LbeSWN4EgORXmqpyFCJudzQklGFX8Ou1Fa94qeYnw2dfkBzx8LY2AoScCTX8qZ7dINoWjGYC9ECGpYteWChohse4Q2Ppw/s1600/14+birds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="143" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiymIHmfZAxCn_NGbWR6VnMw0ke6Ic7mfH4tKeZYjwJDeJ-7LbeSWN4EgORXmqpyFCJudzQklGFX8Ou1Fa94qeYnw2dfkBzx8LY2AoScCTX8qZ7dINoWjGYC9ECGpYteWChohse4Q2Ppw/s200/14+birds.jpg" width="200" /></a>We left the rally and camped that night, sitting around the campfire talking and laughing and telling stories (and asking questions). The next afternoon, we headed back to Charleston, stopping at a truck stop for a shower before the long ride. We headed home after dark, and unfortunately, we rolled over some metal sheeting in the road which punched a hole in the sidewall of <i>another </i>tire. Thankfullly, we were able to drive on it, but it was a slower, longer drive home than we'd planned. When we drove into Martha's grassy driveway, the tire just gave up the ghost with a loud, long hisssssssss. We borrowed her VW bug to get to my house.<br />
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But Andrew said he'd never laughed so much as he did over that weekend with Martha and me. We DID have a great time! And it was the beginning of a lovely courtship.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQQddjibbEcJ6TyXZokuaQusuf512yAvzkpZGMoK3vJMxEPXm0IDftZttDiCf9pK713hXb7Bo9s8uEka6XMHftT4pMrdlopIm1bDpzccoYWENh508n4NGrpKAZSo5HHeHWBa8nKQCBC14/s1600/4+wings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQQddjibbEcJ6TyXZokuaQusuf512yAvzkpZGMoK3vJMxEPXm0IDftZttDiCf9pK713hXb7Bo9s8uEka6XMHftT4pMrdlopIm1bDpzccoYWENh508n4NGrpKAZSo5HHeHWBa8nKQCBC14/s200/4+wings.jpg" width="200" /></a>Five years later, Andrew and I had been married for 3 years by the Autumn Equinox, Sept. 21, 1989: the date that Hurricane Hugo smashed into the South Carolina coast and tore up into North Carolina and Virginia. We were living south of Charleston in the country, but since Hugo was larger than the entire <i>state </i>of SC, with 12-foot storm surges predicted (and we lived on the intracoastal waterway in a cement slab house about 2 feet above mean sea level), we decided to escape to a different area code. My Mom and brother Fred were also living in Charleston; Andrew's Dad was in the hospital -- safe but not able to leave -- and his Mom stayed with him. So we packed up all our animals (including 2 cats and 5 dogs -- two of ours, one each of my Mom and brother, and one elder dog we were keeping for a friend) with the wedding album and other important items and headed to the mountains: us in our car and my Mom and Fred in her car. We avoided the interstate, which was bumper to bumper, and headed up the secondary highways which was a great idea because when we crossed over the interstate we saw cars sitting in what looked like a parking lot as far as the eyes could see. We finally reached Saluda that evening, and the rain from the perimeter of Hugo caught up with us not long after that.<br />
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While we had electricity and phones in Saluda, our friends in Charleston didn't, so watching the news was the only way to stay connected (this was before cell phones). We stayed in Saluda two days, then headed back to Charleston loaded with gallons of fresh water to use and to share. <br />
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When Andrew and I turned into Hollywood (the little town we lived near), we saw a long line of Florida Light and Power trucks parked in a row on a vacant lot, ready to start returning order to the chaos. And when we turned into our driveway, our home was intact and undamaged! While we lost 2 pine trees, they didn't hit the house, and the roses growing on the east side of our home were still blooming! It was as if Spirit had put a protective hand over our home and kept it safe from harm. We were indescribably thankful.<br />
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Within 3 days, we had electricity restored, which was wonderful because our water was pumped from a well. Not having running water helped me to better appreciate our ancestors who spent so much of their energy surviving: carrying water, planting crops, harvesting and preserving foods in order to feed their families during the winters. Life drifts down to the basics where there are no modern conveniences, and running water is certainly convenient!<br />
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Tragedy brings out the true meat of people. Over the next few weeks, I saw strangers helping each other out, saw community efforts to rebuild, and saw humor in the face of overwhelming destruction: "Landscaping by Hugo" signs in front yards, "Hugo Stew" where families combined what was thawing in the freezer to feed their neighborhoods, folks helping clear each other's fallen trees, others offering someone a safe place to rest. Friends of ours who lived at Folly Beach in a small cinder-block home still had their home, but the flat roof had been lifted off, the curtains and blinds sucked out, and the roof replaced so that the curtains and blinds flowed through the top of the wall to the outside. We got stuck in the sand where the road used to be when leaving their home when friends had gathered to help with clean-up and repair... and everyone behind us got out of their cars to push our van onto the remaining pavement. We all waited to be sure everyone made it through.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEichf1rHQ5ygpdHvmKlpJuobXuveGOkJJ4rn86LQffuX_UuNevwNvnlHQw0-OxvmV3U0cRiXgNuX9pDQ0mv73LqkLrHpaTioFMZg80cEKCVqm5WVYixG0WhuNtLkyPV26h2OnZvN1RRrTQ/s1600/flying+creature+created+over+4+nights.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEichf1rHQ5ygpdHvmKlpJuobXuveGOkJJ4rn86LQffuX_UuNevwNvnlHQw0-OxvmV3U0cRiXgNuX9pDQ0mv73LqkLrHpaTioFMZg80cEKCVqm5WVYixG0WhuNtLkyPV26h2OnZvN1RRrTQ/s200/flying+creature+created+over+4+nights.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
One family I knew from work had decided to stay in Charleston for the storm. They had originally chosen their home because of all the pine trees in their yard. During Hugo's wrath, the seven of them found themselves huddled in the central hall downstairs. Trees were falling onto their second story roof; with the difference in air pressure, as the trees would hit the roof, the higher air pressure inside would cause the roof to explode. Their house was destroyed, but thankfully all of them were uninjured. Another couple lived on Sullivan's Island; again, their pine trees destroyed the upstairs of their brick home while flooding ruined the first floor. They finally packed it up and left town. <br />
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While homes and buildings were destroyed, the saddest part (other than the minimal loss of life, thanks to people paying attention to the need to evacuate) was the loss of the Low Country's beautiful, majestic trees. Trees are what gave Charleston its lovely graceful silhouette and profile. My old neighborhood didn't even look like where I had grown up. You can reconstruct a building, but you can't rebuild a tree. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2_x0gpxos48s_fV6dg5miAzBl6dqj62HykAlXbExtmj8QgtkSLzDep6fSbtkxRrHYFgUyGi9eYFAIHdQnX80RNdmMpI_0oWu0kHrypUFG-RuI0ldBBA5UUUtSGO-nEur848TkemR9tBY/s1600/koch+snowflake+97.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2_x0gpxos48s_fV6dg5miAzBl6dqj62HykAlXbExtmj8QgtkSLzDep6fSbtkxRrHYFgUyGi9eYFAIHdQnX80RNdmMpI_0oWu0kHrypUFG-RuI0ldBBA5UUUtSGO-nEur848TkemR9tBY/s200/koch+snowflake+97.jpg" width="200" /></a>Reassembling a sense of normalcy was difficult that fall. But on the Winter Solstice, December 21, 1989, Nature decided to blanket the Low Country with a beautiful pristine covering of magical white snow. It was as if she was saying, "Now it is time for peace." Blessed Be.<br />
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I hope you have a time for peace today.<br />
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Peace,<br />
Kate <br />
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<br />Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07675007358159204799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807549661712468460.post-90159456581321750912010-10-06T14:32:00.000-04:002010-10-06T14:32:49.194-04:00October 6 - Katie<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV0nX84oLUgX_EQQtlI3LDZjTNEPfMJkoBzsTPCyL8Xw8nlp19c0HQroQTJ4U73_nQ2FphZPs7Kky6t6vmbw7AJ7xRKyZWrmQnubackNx-WwrM7OcWIA7ZVseEtukXxa0leZ8qMlTQES0/s1600/angel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV0nX84oLUgX_EQQtlI3LDZjTNEPfMJkoBzsTPCyL8Xw8nlp19c0HQroQTJ4U73_nQ2FphZPs7Kky6t6vmbw7AJ7xRKyZWrmQnubackNx-WwrM7OcWIA7ZVseEtukXxa0leZ8qMlTQES0/s200/angel.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
I had a best friend for 10 years who was part-shepherd, part-lab, and part-human: Katie. <br />
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Some folks think she was named after me, but in fact I was named after her. Up until I was about 25, I went by Kathy (hard to believe; she is a different person than I am now), but loved the name Kate (after one of my heroines, Kate Hepburn). So when Katie was (literally) dropped in my lap, I decided to name her my favorite name. It wasn't until 5 years later that I made the shift myself into a Kate. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsziNFV4nn61NeFyFYeZQ3lyzC7Yzb2eFQ9uiKjbZpG0HpDxxN8nKiyZVsE864lqqUDdYTruaCH7KXK7JhOpdv82DihDPAZ5evbdk5tjJ9I_0tm-KqcYyfoE1uhYqdBrnxRcZ5ESeuJm0/s1600/report-photo1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="169" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsziNFV4nn61NeFyFYeZQ3lyzC7Yzb2eFQ9uiKjbZpG0HpDxxN8nKiyZVsE864lqqUDdYTruaCH7KXK7JhOpdv82DihDPAZ5evbdk5tjJ9I_0tm-KqcYyfoE1uhYqdBrnxRcZ5ESeuJm0/s200/report-photo1.jpg" width="200" /></a>She was a CRAZY pup... all ears and legs and a strong, independent will... and as we grew together over the next 10 years she was my companion and protector. I was able to live by myself as a single woman, go where I wanted to go, and do what I wanted to do because of Katie. She was always game for anything. And she was always watching me: ears perked, eyes alert, her head resting on her front paws as she rested relaxed but ready for whatever I was going to do, the way dogs do.<br />
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There are lots and lots of stories about Katie, some of which I will tell during this month. But for now, I have my most recent story of Katie to share.<br />
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Katie contracted cancer in her mouth, and after two surgeries we had to let her go. She is buried in the backyard of my former country home south of Charleston, SC. It was Jan. 26, less than a month after the love of my life Andrew moved in (on New Years Day 1984). I am blessed that occasionally she visits me in my dreams. This is such a tale.<br />
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In 2000, on the Spring Equinox after my mom's passing in February, I committed to a Vision Quest. With my fellow questers, I prepared for six months in order to enter the woods for three days and nights when we would seek our visions. It was a powerful process that springboarded me into my current spirituality.<br />
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As is true of other questers, the closer we came to our Quest date, the more nervous I became about going into the woods: not from a safety concern but from a fear of not receiving a Vision. I'd worked so hard and it all pointed to this special weekend (Labor Day... in every sense of the word!)! Two nights before the Quest weekend began, I had a vivid dream:<br />
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<blockquote>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1EYcQxKT8oktIjazdP3ZMD37EHcMNsfLVrINdOV0FR03j3FCn9e8IBYhAVJ-rkfWzA3Few4-rzoR9ZbE-5llq4n4zFc3d9pOIswKe2lSuZWxF3METrh0LmATfXn0ztbtPX9Uy882Y8Fw/s1600/angel2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1EYcQxKT8oktIjazdP3ZMD37EHcMNsfLVrINdOV0FR03j3FCn9e8IBYhAVJ-rkfWzA3Few4-rzoR9ZbE-5llq4n4zFc3d9pOIswKe2lSuZWxF3METrh0LmATfXn0ztbtPX9Uy882Y8Fw/s200/angel2.jpg" width="200" /></a><i>I was walking in a forest of beautiful, lush green pine trees along a soft path thick with fallen russet pine needles. All was silent. I looked down to my left, and there was Katie walking beside me! It was so like old times when we would walk together. My heart leapt for joy at being with her again! I was so excited that I started running along the path, and she ran alongside me. Then she changed into a black bear, also running along the path with me. This excited me so much that I lifted off my feet and started flying alongside her.</i></blockquote>
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I woke up, jubilant that I had spent time with Katie/Black Bear, and knew my Quest would be a safe and successful one.<br />
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Two days later I went into the woods, early on a Saturday morning, in silence. My teacher had selected my spot under a huge, beautiful old pine tree where the ground was blanketed in layers and layers of soft pine needles. There were small pines scattered along the perimeter of my circle as well as some fallen pines peeking through the carpet of pine needles.<br />
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I spent 3 days in the woods, just me and Nature. Each morning, my teacher would bring me fresh water for the day and to check to make sure I was ok. That weekend, it rained 4 inches... and I stayed snug and dry under my tarp in my sleeping bag. I felt Andrew and our kids sending me love and strength all weekend. It was as if Andrew was there beside me saying, "OK, first put up the tarp, now set out..." guiding me in his wise woodsmanship way. <br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1q7fg5jBE57grg3VdkrOdz4KDQFQY4mElhI4jISKlICoxvl0GuP3gm4hWbYBOUbulnkqzK98h5meHfAku7hdkAijCc4bpNAEWHaLFbxGDpi9R0tD2t-lxxNgt4v9bRUJI58IG3BGW5Cw/s1600/Katie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1q7fg5jBE57grg3VdkrOdz4KDQFQY4mElhI4jISKlICoxvl0GuP3gm4hWbYBOUbulnkqzK98h5meHfAku7hdkAijCc4bpNAEWHaLFbxGDpi9R0tD2t-lxxNgt4v9bRUJI58IG3BGW5Cw/s200/Katie.jpg" width="139" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Katie, <br />always curious and alert</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
On Sunday, I was writing in my journal, recounting the dream I had had the few nights before. I am thankful to have had the journal as I wouldn't have remembered most of my Quest experiences since I was in an altered state (which I didn't think about happening...). As I looked up from my writing, my eyes rested on a small pine that had fallen over years and years and years before. The base of the tree was all that was showing; the roots had been elemented away over the years, and the remaining base poked up in two soft peaks from the pine straw. As I looked at it, I realized that it looked just like Katie did when she would watch me to see what I was going to do next. And as I looked at it more, I realized it WAS Katie, still there companioning and protecting me. I was -- and am -- so grateful for her presence.<br />
<br />
I miss Katie so much. I miss how she would howl with excitement when I would drive into the driveway; my very own one-dog chorus of joy. Her salutations would literally lift her front feet off the ground! Now THAT's love! I miss her smell, the feel of her coat as I would pet her, her talking to me, the look in her eyes when she was having fun, her joie de vivre, her humor, and her undying love. <br />
<br />
Well, I still feel her undying love.<br />
<br />
There have been other puppies, but there will never be another Katie.<br />
<br />
I hope that a memory of a loyal and loving animal will fill your day today.<br />
<br />
Peace,<br />
KateKatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07675007358159204799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807549661712468460.post-36316533896804783712010-10-05T12:40:00.000-04:002010-10-05T12:40:19.700-04:00A Month of Story<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz6B-786DuqI4Y3ndba5IQrGWedFjAF3PnR4alU-OcG3GkdKYmcasJqRZ1xDsRp1uVwNhv-_7JNizpFKOfx9rb_UUH91OI4tY1xCpT0UbHLQUib2XFypiEnKl3ecMqYXi_jPnHlnsjMOc/s1600/spiral+in+circle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz6B-786DuqI4Y3ndba5IQrGWedFjAF3PnR4alU-OcG3GkdKYmcasJqRZ1xDsRp1uVwNhv-_7JNizpFKOfx9rb_UUH91OI4tY1xCpT0UbHLQUib2XFypiEnKl3ecMqYXi_jPnHlnsjMOc/s200/spiral+in+circle.jpg" width="200" /></a>I just returned from a full weekend at the <a href="http://www.sewisewomen.com/">SE Womens Herbal Conference</a> at Camp Rockmont in Swannanoa, in the mountains of Western North Carolina. <i>Swannanoa</i>... what a beautiful word! It conjures peace and light to me.<br />
<br />
I met Ramona Moore Big Eagle there, and she offered a session entitled <i>Finding Your Story</i>. While I am a writer with lots of stories, I love to listen to and learn from others. Ramona is a tall, graceful, powerful Legend Keeper, a storyteller of the Tuscarora Tribe, with dancing eyes and a welcoming, open countenance. Everyone in our group of at least 60 ended up telling two stories about ourselves to someone in the group we didn't know. We were all energized and excited about our adept ability to tell stories, even though that's what women <i>do</i>... we are <i>all </i>storytellers. It's our legacy, and our universal way of teaching and leading.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8pHru5EkRiOWCQSZ2gP1qxtCVouiLnC0MnqvhUqkVPkQh3CrRK-CPmINua16sTnkZuMz-_URKUv1tNRwfL9pAagFRnh-0a0lV2JbLu5ENU9KXzBlEni59YTcjjvwoHbA6Eghl8Vi0SV4/s1600/triple+spirals.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8pHru5EkRiOWCQSZ2gP1qxtCVouiLnC0MnqvhUqkVPkQh3CrRK-CPmINua16sTnkZuMz-_URKUv1tNRwfL9pAagFRnh-0a0lV2JbLu5ENU9KXzBlEni59YTcjjvwoHbA6Eghl8Vi0SV4/s200/triple+spirals.jpg" width="200" /></a>After returning home, I read an article in <a href="http://www.livinginseason.com/">Waverly Fitzgerald's October Living in Season</a> e-zine where she writes about <i>Curating Her Life</i>. There's a lot in that issue. Waverly points out that October is a month of memories, stories, and ancestors. So I have decided to do one of the things I love best (but seem to let slip to the end of my "to do" list) and write one story a day this month about memories and ancestors to honor this time of year. All Hallow's Eve (or Samhain) is traditionally the time of honoring the dead, being thankful for our harvests, and slowing down in the cold and darkness, returning to the cave and the fire, and telling our stories. So I will honor that ancient tradition. <br />
<br />
Memories abound with my participating in a recent Small Book Exchange through <a href="http://www.ashevillebookworks.com/">Asheville BookWorks</a>. <i>Memory Palaces</i> was the theme, and each of the 15 participating artists interpreted that in her/his own way to create a rich cornucopia of miniature book art. My book, entitled <i>Rooms with a Clue</i>, traced my connection to and passion for art and creative expression throughout my life (so far). <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEjbUZoPBlcJeQ3EnpRccofoqMAfjHgtLbPeqHl-mVdOs72m9YylIzCRxkFfb6Ni0l7ejrzdLBpy4wLx38dhXWOCDYjZCKwfBgL5EOKg3cBvIfPXNyedozpNaCqjzCdFfC9EBuoX92P4I/s1600/gaga's+button+box.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEjbUZoPBlcJeQ3EnpRccofoqMAfjHgtLbPeqHl-mVdOs72m9YylIzCRxkFfb6Ni0l7ejrzdLBpy4wLx38dhXWOCDYjZCKwfBgL5EOKg3cBvIfPXNyedozpNaCqjzCdFfC9EBuoX92P4I/s200/gaga's+button+box.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2fcNZKaK25JPdE3GR3nlVw0JJSewi-EQTrbJVW3dRhXDXDY05egPisYWWZ4JS7KYcARPF87B4Du18OsOJzw5x_5wy2Vyhw1wNyMOI9p4nSchSySic7A-7Ek4w8FH1_0AgXQbVaf2O8_0/s1600/classifieds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2fcNZKaK25JPdE3GR3nlVw0JJSewi-EQTrbJVW3dRhXDXDY05egPisYWWZ4JS7KYcARPF87B4Du18OsOJzw5x_5wy2Vyhw1wNyMOI9p4nSchSySic7A-7Ek4w8FH1_0AgXQbVaf2O8_0/s200/classifieds.jpg" width="195" /></a>It all started with my Gaga's button box, and continues through many wonderful memories of art created with my hands and heart. One of my very favorite memories as a very little girl was sitting at our kid's card table (just the right height for littles) in our pine-paneled den with my Mama. She and I drew and traced pencil marks all over a page from the newspaper, making swirls and circles and intersecting curved lines over that generous expanse of newsprint. Once we were finished drawing, we found shapes that reminded us of fruits and vegetables and colored them as such with our crayons. I remember watching her color a green pear, wishing I could color as beautifully and regularly as she did, and also relishing the time we were spending together. It was so lovely, nurturing, and just plain FUN! <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjItKNC7SJhT_9_zY-sTxMq57ZPvAXA3ayyoUOAv9GQ2JjtwGPNZMKlODCNd9y9vARvj7yIJ3H9Z6QHtO7l13pgPch1PiuiZV-a3zmBzR2E4WjpDJBSVBfnSrKaT9GiaiFhXG_jJrW5d5w/s1600/double+helix.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjItKNC7SJhT_9_zY-sTxMq57ZPvAXA3ayyoUOAv9GQ2JjtwGPNZMKlODCNd9y9vARvj7yIJ3H9Z6QHtO7l13pgPch1PiuiZV-a3zmBzR2E4WjpDJBSVBfnSrKaT9GiaiFhXG_jJrW5d5w/s200/double+helix.jpg" width="78" /></a>My Mama was a fun lady who loved to laugh and put others at ease. She was a Libra, and it showed; everything was about balance to her: relationships, bank accounts, give and take. People were the most important thing to her; she was the essential extrovert. And she loved creating, too. A needleworker (I still sleep under afghans she crocheted and have sweaters she knitted) she taught me to embroidery, knit, and sew as a girl. I grew up surrounded by lace tablecloths, bedspreads, and handmade baby clothes which adorn my home today. Holidays brought out major efforts in decorating: the tabletop decorative Christmas tree she created with hundreds of hand-wound roses made of dark red crepe paper strips and attached to a cardboard cone that fit over a small table lamp so you could see a little bit of light every now and then through the roses. And then there was the time that she created two huge (well, probably 3 feet tall) styrofoam bells shapes that she covered with hand-cut green felt leaves for props for one of our annual Christmas cards that showed how much my brother Fred (11 months older than I) and I were growing. It was the 50s; the debut of the picture Christmas card. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA3zzilqhdVISzGM-l_GYxfnIJG_5TLjUiWXuq13H4RTALMcs7P1VuQtxMWGba7svCW9R7DzGpcl383LqmYEF_np-JOrFjMgKpsTu9Y5TWUfoO7gwE1ZflKd_IXUN1xsFMYGVtF2yNH_k/s1600/swallows2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA3zzilqhdVISzGM-l_GYxfnIJG_5TLjUiWXuq13H4RTALMcs7P1VuQtxMWGba7svCW9R7DzGpcl383LqmYEF_np-JOrFjMgKpsTu9Y5TWUfoO7gwE1ZflKd_IXUN1xsFMYGVtF2yNH_k/s200/swallows2.jpg" width="200" /></a>She had a beautiful handwriting and always tried to write in green (she had a fountain pen she used all the time that only held green ink) because it was her favorite color. Today, it is also mine. Whenever I would ask her for her autograph in one of my autograph books (another 50s fad) or school annual, she would pen, "To my understudy." And while I understand that now, it didn't satisfy my youthful daughter's need for superlatives about who I was... at least I didn't think so at the time. Today, I am proud to be her understudy, to continue the creative self-expression that she nurtured in me, and to quote her wonderful, unique sayings. Of course, we've all heard "This too shall pass" which was NEVER comforting when you heard it, but which I have said to my children as well. My favorite saying of my wise mama is, "The sun don't shine on the same dog's ass all the time." Now we call it Karma, but we didn't know that term back then. Course, with her Charleston Geechee accent, it sounded more like "De sun don' shine on de same dog's ass all de time." I can enunciate it exactly as she did. <br />
<br />
I hope you take the time to savor a great story today.<br />
<br />
Peace,<br />
Kate<br />
<br />Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07675007358159204799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807549661712468460.post-71063717019096070642010-08-16T11:33:00.000-04:002010-08-16T11:33:35.661-04:00Reaping What We Sow<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Lugnasad, or Lammas, is the cross-quarter
holyday in early August which celebrates the first harvest of the grain. The first harvest is always the greatest,
and grain is important to us physically, emotionally, and spiritually.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I held a Peace Feast at my home a few years
ago, and invited sisters to join me in focusing on Peace. I invited everyone to bring something that
represented Peace to add to the altar.
One friend brought grains of rice; she said if everyone were fed there
would be peace. How simple, and how
true. Conflict has always broken out
been between the have’s and the have not’s.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The collecting of grains and the making of
bread to share with family and community has long been an important seasonal
ritual. The age-old myth of
Persephone’s return accounted for the reflection of Demeter’s joy in the
fertility and bounty of the Earth.
Bread has been an important character in our stories, whether the
unleavened bread of Passover or the sacred bread of Communion to more mundane
rituals of sharing abundance and breaking bread together. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Grain took
on a whole new dimension to me two years ago when I visited crop circles in
English barley fields. I’d never been
in a field of grain – other than corn – and as I walked the tramlines through
the acres and acres of barley plants, I truly understood the term “the staff of
life”. The barley was alive – like the
ocean – responsive to the wind, the sun, the clouds. I recalled the scene from </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The Gladiator</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> symbolizing his
passage to paradise as I brushed my hands along the tickling tips of the barley
plants. I heard Eva Cassidy’s version
of </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Fields of Gold</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> in my head. I
deeply felt the joy that the plants had in growing towards the sky. As they brushed against each other, it was
as if in applause of their being. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I could feel the energy
of the grain that was bent (not broken) to the earth in magical patterns as I
walked in the crop circles. Crop
circles are mysterious occurrences, and I know that the Circle Makers mean only
to give us wisdom, healing, and peace with their exquisite sacred geometric
art. During the growing season, the
grain rises to stand straight and be harvested with the rest of the field. The following year, however, there may be a
“shadow circle” created by the seeds that were shaken off the heads of the grain
by those walking the circle.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I’d never eaten barley before that
visit. Now I cook with it to celebrate
any ritual of gratitude for the abundance with which we are gifted. Barley soup, barley casserole. I even use raw barley in some of my
art. The crop circles affected every
aspect of my being.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">While Lammas is the holyday that celebrates
the harvest of the seeds we have planted, I also like to use this time to
consider what seeds I want to plant now.
These are seeds of actions to come based on dreams and hopes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Blessings
of an abundant harvest!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Peace,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Kate</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">(These are photos I took while in the crop circle shown (the bottom one shows the circle's proximity to Silbury Hill, an ancient sacred site) in the summer of 2008.)</span></i></span>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07675007358159204799noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807549661712468460.post-67298150950682763932010-07-09T11:44:00.002-04:002010-07-10T08:22:13.750-04:00Multitudes and Abundance<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXHhFL1LnJNVg6UC2HGi3vvhjaP5p-8Kp5WVcbmjN3rGzl_5GVyWARjzRteI1PG44rkFKgmlqB8LldNz-xYny3Iw7dS0YcYCdidlg3gOQ35fNQF3AHY8Ln9d6Ms7s2-DWct0KNS01yL9A/s1600/scalloped+sun+07.09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXHhFL1LnJNVg6UC2HGi3vvhjaP5p-8Kp5WVcbmjN3rGzl_5GVyWARjzRteI1PG44rkFKgmlqB8LldNz-xYny3Iw7dS0YcYCdidlg3gOQ35fNQF3AHY8Ln9d6Ms7s2-DWct0KNS01yL9A/s200/scalloped+sun+07.09.jpg" width="200" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It is the peak of summer. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It is the time of Nature's growth and multitudes. Of Her ecstatic abundance of creation. Brilliant days of Nature's laughter and joy. Of Her seductive enticements. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Multiplicity to the point of overwhelm. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Hear the cacophony of the birds, some of whom are on their second clutch of eggs for the season. Hear the incessant buzz of insects, vibrating </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">either</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">mating calls or "back off" warnings. The frogs will be peeping in the evenings soon. Tadpoles will be wriggling next to the edge of water, waiting on their legs.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiDBdqJpWV12EXX_6WdlwuZ7_33XcvnvbQ8cGxax123ygDRPwAaQpOoDTEQpKZ-igPdPkeG81CmU1wE7z5IS4T8UZxbq4AZeY_PCVBNHQ2657xQRySqOvmAUuE-nvH1l4ysUlFXe2GOQE/s1600/tree+w+fruit+%26+roots.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="146" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiDBdqJpWV12EXX_6WdlwuZ7_33XcvnvbQ8cGxax123ygDRPwAaQpOoDTEQpKZ-igPdPkeG81CmU1wE7z5IS4T8UZxbq4AZeY_PCVBNHQ2657xQRySqOvmAUuE-nvH1l4ysUlFXe2GOQE/s200/tree+w+fruit+%26+roots.jpg" width="200" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">See the vibrant blossoms burst open, hardy volunteers sprout, luscious fruits and vegetables swell into sweetness. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Feel the heat that causes the frenzy. Relish the thunder and rain that cools the chaos and nurtures and quiets the creatures for a short time.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhhT5pfBFoo5IaZeQeFH1CSrqe4-w9ww1wimdd_rfGTFr-8-cu5vkxjZLbMYtmFq443KyMkBdzZv8LuVQP8YXaNNZxuXZLaou4_OwMJDiXdoPSe-YQBO3fMhyqVZnUx1ri9e1hjTjR_O0/s1600/intersecting+circles+05.09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhhT5pfBFoo5IaZeQeFH1CSrqe4-w9ww1wimdd_rfGTFr-8-cu5vkxjZLbMYtmFq443KyMkBdzZv8LuVQP8YXaNNZxuXZLaou4_OwMJDiXdoPSe-YQBO3fMhyqVZnUx1ri9e1hjTjR_O0/s200/intersecting+circles+05.09.jpg" width="200" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Nature's multitudes are coming forth while they can. Life's cycle is short for many of these creatures: they birth, they reproduce, they pass on. Another generation carries forward in the great circle of life.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Well tended in the spring, they are now springing forth into raucous and chaotic adolescence in the summer. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I think it's time for a cool swim or a refreshing nap. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Peace,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Kate</span><br />
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Footlight MT Light';"><br /></span></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07675007358159204799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807549661712468460.post-49330635037278403782010-03-22T10:04:00.000-04:002010-03-22T10:04:04.451-04:00Rob Lived a Hand Crafted Life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipLAwMXq6dmVdFl3GK3NdGJvS_DmN-414GR-oeQn9a3gN91bfopTkUVxXl4-gV5lgtWVz6LLvXoJ505CQ4i-mH03BYeksmVI3p6knOS6AdmBg651SOJssQ8xw3PLaChHMH0LDAXubyfdE/s1600-h/human+butterfly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipLAwMXq6dmVdFl3GK3NdGJvS_DmN-414GR-oeQn9a3gN91bfopTkUVxXl4-gV5lgtWVz6LLvXoJ505CQ4i-mH03BYeksmVI3p6knOS6AdmBg651SOJssQ8xw3PLaChHMH0LDAXubyfdE/s320/human+butterfly.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffe2c4; line-height: 19px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This is one in a series for a column,</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Living a Hand Crafted Life</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">, that I am writing for our local newspaper, The Hendersonville Times-News. This article was run on March 21, 2010.</span></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffe2c4; line-height: 19px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffe2c4; line-height: 19px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></b></span><br />
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>There's a general tendency to presume people just act for
short-term profit. But anyone who knows about small-town businesses and how
people in a community relate to one another realizes that many of those
decisions are not just for profit and that humans do try to organize and solve
problems. -- Elinor Ostrom, first woman recipient of the Nobel Prize in
Economics (2009)</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This column
is about encouraging readers to live a hand crafted life: a life of choice based and following our
heart and our core values.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Rob Cranford
was one such person. I knew Rob from
Rotary. Just seeing him in a room would
make me smile. His open and honest
energy and integrity was palpable; you could feel it. He loved life, and he followed his heart in living a full
life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Rob was a
humble and yet impressive person. He
used his head and his heart. He was an
astute businessman as well as a deeply caring family man, friend, and community
member. I have heard him laugh so hard
that he almost choked, and I have seen his eyes fill with tears at a touching
story. Rob’s emotions and abilities ran
the gamut. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Rob was a
devout man who practiced what he believed.
He didn’t preach, he acted. And
because of his many acts, this community is a better place. There is no corner of our community that he
didn’t touch in some way or another.
Under Rob’s leadership (and thanks to other great employees there),
Morrow Insurance was a profitable company, and they shared those profits with
organizations in Henderson County. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In this day
and age, when focus on the bottom line leads companies and corporations to make
self-serving decisions, it is affirming to know that Morrow’s decisions were
led by the philosophy that people and community matter. Non-profits knew they could count on
Morrow’s support. And
characteristically, when Rob would make a commitment or pledge, he would say,
“I’m sorry it can’t be more.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I would tease
Rob that I was the Founding President of the Rob Cranford International Fan
Club. I really feel that way about
Rob. He had a halo while he was here on
earth, and now he has sprouted wings.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">But from the
SRO crowd at his funeral, I have plenty of competition for that title. Friends told tales (poignant and hysterical)
about Rob, and most impressive were his sons’ eulogies to their Dad. The courage it took for them to stand in
front of a huge crowd at a terribly emotional time for them was fueled by their
obvious love and admiration of their father.
What a tribute to their Dad. I
know he was proud as punch. We all were. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">There’s a big
hole in many hearts because of our loss of Rob Cranford living among us. I’m thankful that I knew him. I am a better person for having known Rob. We all are.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Too
often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening
ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the
potential to turn a life around. -- Leo Buscaglia</span></i><i><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Footlight MT Light';"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07675007358159204799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807549661712468460.post-80313410386516794862010-03-22T09:52:00.005-04:002010-03-22T09:55:04.132-04:00Blessed Spring!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXVf8NhgXA_e9jTGoQ674Z1pyzA0KqCc7uQvWnlnaRjsKbMq8QaPtfIhkK8cBhhzi9gOBvY2Lfxyzr3cbh76DA9oubcZ1nIIYzn5v42uHUkRVnqgRjIGFczLTzoKnTluDg0juK1Mchcw8/s1600-h/cropharmonic_a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXVf8NhgXA_e9jTGoQ674Z1pyzA0KqCc7uQvWnlnaRjsKbMq8QaPtfIhkK8cBhhzi9gOBvY2Lfxyzr3cbh76DA9oubcZ1nIIYzn5v42uHUkRVnqgRjIGFczLTzoKnTluDg0juK1Mchcw8/s320/cropharmonic_a.jpg" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It's finally spring (officially, that is)! Saturday, Spring Equinox, was magnificent; a true first-of-spring-day: sunny, warm, enticing one outdoors for the sights, smells, sounds, and sensations of spring. Mother Nature brings out her brightest and best paints for this season!</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1tSg8FAprv5YsnxQHAeSECRt01lih5WBksmoB4FZo1avDFjBAcrAaMvHY6ghFOxLXCK0E8-8vH2ZJnN-ZOGczFR7R_JYI_7D7OqJ8VhUP4_rZLJe7gCwYJx_wd8fHsShL60DV_4hMgYA/s1600-h/swallows.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1tSg8FAprv5YsnxQHAeSECRt01lih5WBksmoB4FZo1avDFjBAcrAaMvHY6ghFOxLXCK0E8-8vH2ZJnN-ZOGczFR7R_JYI_7D7OqJ8VhUP4_rZLJe7gCwYJx_wd8fHsShL60DV_4hMgYA/s200/swallows.jpg" width="200" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">All of a sudden, over the past week, birdsong and serenade is everywhere, all during the day from dawn until dusk. It's a lyrical way of staking territory and attracting a mate. Wouldn't it be great if that was how humans staked their claim, through song instead of fighting? Or males sang love songs to attract their mates? </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZQYY107cwwgLkMl_3A-g5WFv64jMOhNNhbFlTDKrXaStHtDTIrEg73lZcPNvNHICAb9cUXEvOSb1FoxtSYoaaHQuLxxsd1PW4BK_vew87Ooh-zpB4FjFoox1w6qV4cj_aWrNLhpK7Kew/s1600-h/bloom+where+you%27re+planted.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="111" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZQYY107cwwgLkMl_3A-g5WFv64jMOhNNhbFlTDKrXaStHtDTIrEg73lZcPNvNHICAb9cUXEvOSb1FoxtSYoaaHQuLxxsd1PW4BK_vew87Ooh-zpB4FjFoox1w6qV4cj_aWrNLhpK7Kew/s200/bloom+where+you%27re+planted.jpg" width="200" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #fce5cd;">In my walk around the yard, a small plant (some would call it a weed) growing -- and blooming -- in a crack in our sidewalk caught my eye and my imagination. Our home was built in 1927, and the sidewalks are that old... and full of character. There are a few "wrinkles" that have occurred over the past 80 or so years, and I love seeing what grows in these spare spaces. We have lots of beautiful mosses, too. It's amazing how many types of mosses there are!</span></span></span></div>
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5XHZ_7miRyZGoQOcQpEpWTHozIpsBeZUPdK4liOmYdSmt5xvQnkyDwan2DGmbBJhDo9ADHF3UkQ3SKJO-3I-bg33Tsh0HHlDw90xdj4b6Rerq782Sl2k0by_Gg_tHuRNUV-K8-cqHMpY/s1600-h/moss+circle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="145" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5XHZ_7miRyZGoQOcQpEpWTHozIpsBeZUPdK4liOmYdSmt5xvQnkyDwan2DGmbBJhDo9ADHF3UkQ3SKJO-3I-bg33Tsh0HHlDw90xdj4b6Rerq782Sl2k0by_Gg_tHuRNUV-K8-cqHMpY/s200/moss+circle.jpg" width="200" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAqWizEoDkQ29tragfhIe1e-SWQC1Kqfq9oAcSip21-ti3FH0QuS_wZK7L0GymXv9xO35qbWtjqQJtTVSt7Enfox7bhfHvf0GB00WYa6jjWZo4bQFILL6rO1Ner6owc3VmpIRtQjP43DM/s1600-h/03.20.10---3-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAqWizEoDkQ29tragfhIe1e-SWQC1Kqfq9oAcSip21-ti3FH0QuS_wZK7L0GymXv9xO35qbWtjqQJtTVSt7Enfox7bhfHvf0GB00WYa6jjWZo4bQFILL6rO1Ner6owc3VmpIRtQjP43DM/s200/03.20.10---3-web.jpg" width="133" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZM0lsUGyr7bhbXkoE8kf9_mjjo3wlpZR9nXep1l3RPHt996jx_oxsSg_K_pffcrbqU9I85umO99yTn83pC972-b2V670b-jP5wf2UBcELNeZjvU1_wlJjH0OBn09D_yELyahVrsj9_ZQ/s1600-h/03.20.10---2-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZM0lsUGyr7bhbXkoE8kf9_mjjo3wlpZR9nXep1l3RPHt996jx_oxsSg_K_pffcrbqU9I85umO99yTn83pC972-b2V670b-jP5wf2UBcELNeZjvU1_wlJjH0OBn09D_yELyahVrsj9_ZQ/s200/03.20.10---2-web.jpg" width="200" /></a>And speaking of "wrinkles in the sidewalk", there is a place where the front sidewalk and the side front walkways meet where a tree feel years and years ago and cracked the sidewalk. I've been intending to pull up the old concrete and create a mosaic in its stead. So I'll be posting process photos as this project progresses this season. Here is the end-of-winter-before-spring-cleaning pics of this section of our walkways. (No, I'm not proud of the shape of the sidewalks, although I am proud of the trellis that Andrew built a couple of years ago with salvaged stone and my dad's old fir extension ladder! We have wisteria vines -- one of my favorite flowers -- growing over it.)</span><br />
<div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqFa7golbZpO41epukhnjrwNWbo_OWX3Ny8pYdTPUg0uzUD5drVOV-zerk2APtC2amZ43pL-pbmBKEKg6qD69p7c5JC8NFW5rw9dL9IOSbKUZuxvmlPb37f5CC_1A0nf-Hz-AixVUZDZk/s1600-h/03.20.10---4-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqFa7golbZpO41epukhnjrwNWbo_OWX3Ny8pYdTPUg0uzUD5drVOV-zerk2APtC2amZ43pL-pbmBKEKg6qD69p7c5JC8NFW5rw9dL9IOSbKUZuxvmlPb37f5CC_1A0nf-Hz-AixVUZDZk/s200/03.20.10---4-web.jpg" width="200" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Andrew and I spent part of Equinox Saturday afternoon planning some spring planting projects. We'll plant a garden in the north side yard (yes, it does get sun) in a medicine wheel configuration. First, we need to move the grass and mosses growing on the ground there to other areas of the yard that need green growth. Then we'll till and amend and create walkways and rows. Then we'll plant and cultivate our own veggies. YUM! We both want this Spring Equinox to be a gateway for us to bring growth and balance into our lives. Getting grounded is a great way to do that for both of us... plus it's great exercise after winter's sedentary habits. So I'll be posting these advances, too.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sunday was a day of indoor play. It rained all day (yet didn't smell like spring rain...), which was disappointing after the lovely warm sunshine of Saturday. But the truth is, we need both the sun </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">and </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">the rain in order to grow: taller, broader, deeper, more beautiful. So it gave me the excuse to create a vision board of what I hope to bring into my life this year, starting with this Spring Equinox. What fun to mix color and image! I love collage and went on to create an Abundance Vision Book, because Abundance is one thing I want to bring into my life (we already benefit from abundance, but I want to be more trusting of it and aware of it in order to celebrate it instead of wonder about it...). It was great fun to blend papers and images into a large "book" that will stand on its own and remind me of the Law of Attraction and that faith and trust is what's needed. I can flip the pages as I want to different visions of abundance and bounty...</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I hope today brings you an abundance of all good things!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Peace,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Kate</span></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07675007358159204799noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807549661712468460.post-31546251867080185292010-03-13T11:37:00.000-05:002010-03-13T11:37:14.679-05:00Spring At Last!<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguCgYu2IhzHg0exspgApj3yALNZPsOQ5UVuGGbxvC5y-KVRzR5rb4B5lls9Mq5e1OX6IFhdyPxjZ7rF69ZZrdG06dAoNx1nrsuvzuVDinmKgvPJTp17bV3Nuia6OxBX6JsHR_OqLpmte4/s1600-h/bee2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448125695533068418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguCgYu2IhzHg0exspgApj3yALNZPsOQ5UVuGGbxvC5y-KVRzR5rb4B5lls9Mq5e1OX6IFhdyPxjZ7rF69ZZrdG06dAoNx1nrsuvzuVDinmKgvPJTp17bV3Nuia6OxBX6JsHR_OqLpmte4/s200/bee2.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 174px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 200px;" /></a>While the calendar doesn't show spring's equinox yet, Nature does. <br />
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What a joy to wake this morning to clear skies with the sun shining golden on our home! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSVUqsWX0i5P40RBvPLhPOpRkHApQcdUbEYxjCxmb3BZOc17aGw2UzQyYlmv7EsYbFZvopc4D-akHJWxSyJILH2t6OMTRq-MXgSXGgbsxhLb26Ua3uo56RIKdMJafIHPrTxd-ywtpYBhs/s1600-h/wake+up+sleepyhead+captioned+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSVUqsWX0i5P40RBvPLhPOpRkHApQcdUbEYxjCxmb3BZOc17aGw2UzQyYlmv7EsYbFZvopc4D-akHJWxSyJILH2t6OMTRq-MXgSXGgbsxhLb26Ua3uo56RIKdMJafIHPrTxd-ywtpYBhs/s200/wake+up+sleepyhead+captioned+copy.jpg" width="170" /></a></div>
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I saw daffodils waking from under their leafy blankets. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPyVOHXc4Mj0in8ALnK7xKfHtATnECAUovstjT0He_Ee4wnyAL_pOi-vQUnAOf6p9dt3VMhrHJD2i5bwnt_SqAzIIRZBf8kPnj0RXdvRLPLHXmZ4esPLXspzCct5jtv-zb4Uugc2RyYqk/s1600-h/listening+to+grandmama+oak+captioned+copy.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448132813935820738" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPyVOHXc4Mj0in8ALnK7xKfHtATnECAUovstjT0He_Ee4wnyAL_pOi-vQUnAOf6p9dt3VMhrHJD2i5bwnt_SqAzIIRZBf8kPnj0RXdvRLPLHXmZ4esPLXspzCct5jtv-zb4Uugc2RyYqk/s200/listening+to+grandmama+oak+captioned+copy.jpg" style="float: left; height: 200px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 0px; width: 124px;" /></a><br />
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I saw other daffodils lining up, attentive to Grandmama Oak, now a naturally-deteriorating stump who was once the largest, most majestic tree in our yard. She still has wisdom to share, and the daffodil buds are paying attention. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidV-4Ma8qPuGCPy18RBebNux5clnJQ_liiQYe0MlX1dDm_J-QA9KM2isF7K2F6vYPafBUqTRANgCL4dVtBogNdRovCEeMxVMS5Vc51X0kZiHDr1BdEVz8HN7IG7xtbt50k0_7NoyGVSO0/s1600-h/swimming+w+dolphins+captioned.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidV-4Ma8qPuGCPy18RBebNux5clnJQ_liiQYe0MlX1dDm_J-QA9KM2isF7K2F6vYPafBUqTRANgCL4dVtBogNdRovCEeMxVMS5Vc51X0kZiHDr1BdEVz8HN7IG7xtbt50k0_7NoyGVSO0/s200/swimming+w+dolphins+captioned.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
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And we have waves of daffodils swimming around our dolphins.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvwiEq-aiL0fgDsLlAIrne0I-sO7R9yV3kVtHEHD1bG7xhl1rUiR7qSpZVwNH8-uEU9o6LZiR_gP-qVp3xwdBaY47UXi_RwxSSSxsc0NWw8fGc7e986vQ4kiN6aNLqaahnnPr2NHccpKc/s1600-h/tree+breathing+caption1+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvwiEq-aiL0fgDsLlAIrne0I-sO7R9yV3kVtHEHD1bG7xhl1rUiR7qSpZVwNH8-uEU9o6LZiR_gP-qVp3xwdBaY47UXi_RwxSSSxsc0NWw8fGc7e986vQ4kiN6aNLqaahnnPr2NHccpKc/s320/tree+breathing+caption1+copy.jpg" /></a><br />
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But the most amazing gift I was given today in my view of the morning was another oak on the south side of our home breathing. Yes, breathing. </div>
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I know the scientific explanation of her breathing: the sun was warming her bark, which was damp from yesterday's long, soft rain and the night's dew. As she warmed, the moisture turned into steam and gently lifted offer her skin and up into the air. But to my eyes, she was breathing. Thank you, Nature!<br />
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(Can you see the soft delicate mist between the trunk and the bush behind? That's her breath.)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5bHSLPxkKzQIIXN3A4jLQ_NlNH9vyUPYjf4QNfwqELcKGSkoZxag91Vnb92A9LaeJiUqmq9eD0Lx0SxvpCNSFmnHFbCJwnkKUtWm9gwE2sZR2PHs3NyZ2yrX3ulBGqdGjDkMBu2VvLTo/s1600-h/the+green+man+%26+day+lilies+captioned+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5bHSLPxkKzQIIXN3A4jLQ_NlNH9vyUPYjf4QNfwqELcKGSkoZxag91Vnb92A9LaeJiUqmq9eD0Lx0SxvpCNSFmnHFbCJwnkKUtWm9gwE2sZR2PHs3NyZ2yrX3ulBGqdGjDkMBu2VvLTo/s200/the+green+man+%26+day+lilies+captioned+copy.jpg" width="171" /></a></div>
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So I had a great time snapping pictures of these lovely rituals that Nature and her creatures repeat endlessly.</div>
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I hope you have a delightful day full of bright awakenings!</div>
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Peace,</div>
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Kate</div>
</div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07675007358159204799noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807549661712468460.post-36702629546357069422010-03-13T08:52:00.012-05:002010-03-13T09:19:19.728-05:00Weather Affects Us All; How Does It Change You?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU0oqWZZuV1v2I-xwrFxY8nm5JC-OPnOraBjZTYLhaCBjf4GIy_30HrD3lHZOQDyPmSGxgM_oLHgUIihWK4b-r7k6quWwdyG4S30Cxr7ro0RYCRnk9SgL7TmJpGes11fJMB_09R2JbpRU/s1600-h/7fold+snowflake.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 209px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU0oqWZZuV1v2I-xwrFxY8nm5JC-OPnOraBjZTYLhaCBjf4GIy_30HrD3lHZOQDyPmSGxgM_oLHgUIihWK4b-r7k6quWwdyG4S30Cxr7ro0RYCRnk9SgL7TmJpGes11fJMB_09R2JbpRU/s320/7fold+snowflake.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448122006943842114" /></a><b>This is one in a series for a column,<i> Living a Hand Crafted Life</i>, that I am writing for our local newspaper, The Hendersonville Times-News. This article was run on March 7, 2010.</b><div><b><br /></b><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><i><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered. ~ Nelson Mandela</span></span></i></span><i><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><i><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span><span></span></span><br /></span></span></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Things in Henderson County aren’t back to normal yet.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Snow still mounts, welcoming the next flurry.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Residents have lost electricity, heat and water; some can’t get out of their driveways.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We realize we are all vulnerable to the weather.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The frigid weather has steamed many about changes in schedules and plans.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">During these times, we move closer to the ways that our forbearers lived:</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">the settlers who came before us to carve a life in these forests and mountains.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I’ve often thought it took mighty strong stock to settle the Appalachians.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Men, women and children worked together cutting trees which would become their homes and the fires to warm them.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">They carried water.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">They planted and tended and harvested and cooked as well as hunted and traded.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">These were truly hand crafted lives:</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">everything they did was by hand!</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">There were no home improvement stores that sold and delivered lumber by the board.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">There were no grocery stores where one could stock up for impending weather.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Everything was made by hand – one’s own or someone else’s.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The kind of weather conditions we’ve experienced recently reminds me of how much our ancestors had to focus on survival.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Much of their energy and focus went into taking care of the most basic of life’s needs – just as many of us have had to do without power or water.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I love canning tomatoes.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It’s hot, hard work:</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">picking the tomatoes, splitting the skins in boiling water, lifting large pots of hot water or cooked fruit, pouring the sauce into sterilized jars, sealing them in a water bath, and listening for the “pop” of the lids to signal a perfect seal.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">At the end of a long day of canning, my reward is rows of red jars with gold caps standing in line on my shelves.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It feels like wealth to me.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">And the exercise – while a labor of love for me – helps me to better appreciate the strength and endurance of those who came before us.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Of the mothers who had to properly can and preserve the harvest, or her family wouldn’t eat.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Of them having to clean, wash, sew, nuture, and birth – all by hand and at home.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Several years ago during an extended ice storm here, our home lost power for 10 days.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">And while having central heat, light, and cooking reinstated was wonderful, we were all a little sad to lose those evenings of togetherness around our wood stove.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We resolved to turn off all the lights (and TV) at least one night a week and play games, singing songs.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I think that resolution lasted about a week.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We were solidly back into our routines.</span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">How have you changed with this most recent experience of being entirely at the mercy of the weather?</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">When your electricity returned, how long did it take for you to take it for granted?</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Part of a hand crafted life is appreciating what we have.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Another part of it is not letting our modern conveniences get in the way of recognizing all that we truly have.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span></span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(255, 226, 196); line-height: 19px; font-family:Georgia, Times, serif;"><p class="MsoBodyText"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;">I hope you have a day filled with a vision of living your own life.</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoBodyText"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;">Peace,</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoBodyText"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;">Kate</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoBodyText"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;"><br /></span></span></span></p></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px; font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;">All rights reserved, 2010 Hendersonville Times-News</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Footlight MT Light';"><br /></span></p></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07675007358159204799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807549661712468460.post-68574144153548944942010-01-25T17:05:00.016-05:002010-01-25T17:25:55.495-05:00For the New Year, Live Your Own Life<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVEJJppdVjl3un0VHY7cejYMyC4nIiOIQWyzVtqsK29W6r88qbG-Mtl1qg_e6XlG15GTjUMql_GLoI0IHT8Uem23NbCXOFVxYmZsN0WjCuwSUDzISQjLZl3qgeo6IVxk19P9opR-77RNg/s320/5+pointed+stars.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 211px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430803291327387842" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;">This is</span></span></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;"> one in a series for a column I am writing for our local newspaper, the Hendersonville Times-News. </span></span></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;"><br /></span><p class="MsoNormal"><i><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;">“Every human being is unique and special unlike any who has ever existed before or will ever exist again. But when we become captives of culturally defined roles and behaviors – stereotypes – we interfere with </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: normal; font-family:Georgia, serif;"><i><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;">becoming all that we can be. </span></span></span></span></i><i><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;">We must learn to draw on our inner resources, to define ourselves in terms of our own internal valuing system, rather than trying to fit into some stereotyped role.” – Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;">Death: The Final Stage of Growth</span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyText2"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;">Kubler-Ross was a pioneer in death and dying, yet here she is advocating living our lives: an authentic life, one in tune with “our own internal valuing system”.</span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;">That’s a large part of our individuality, our discovering how to create and live a hand-crafted life.</span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;">I’ve been thinking a lot about core values recently. The first time I was aware of focusing on defining my core values was in my mid-20s when a business acquaintance told me I’d need to clarify my personal values before I could determine my professional goals. At the time I thought he was nuts. How could I know what I wanted until I knew what I could afford? Today, I am amazed at that naiveté. How consumer driven I was! Our culture encourages that mentality: earn and spend, borrow and spend, desire and spend. While chasing the money trail, we really forget to walk our own path.</span></span></span></span></p><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirBbdozU3UVQG0OrxGo0i1SFxdux_fq3q-TH9tJUtE1nCfpzStBgwRmzSMPjHovBrSsLTE_XMKIASK6yEt7iPE4Cd_QPwySudUnriujWNNcMaO6tK4dT2HxEpnGoFdbItOxv0Gneaswu8/s200/5pointed+star+w+circles.jpg" style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430803541493098754" /><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;">Since then, I’ve passed that advice along to others. And I’ve noticed that when I am happy with my life, I seem to choose to buy less. It is as though when I’m unhappy or frustrated with life, I buy more things, as if I am trying to fill some kind of hole inside. When I’m content with my life, I am filling my inner well on my own through my choices and actions.</span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;">One of my favorite books (and movies) is </span></span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;">Out of Africa</span></span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;">. Karen Blixen (author Isak Dinesen) was a courageous woman who, when asked on which side of World War I Denmark would stand, she responded, “On our own, I think. We have a history of that.” Blixen was Danish through and through and stood on her own for her lifetime. While she dearly longed for a happy marriage, someone she could “call my own”, she never attained that. This was in direct contrast to the independence that her lover, Englishman Denys Finch-Hatton, desired just as fervently. Their insecurities clashed against each other, and were cause for many conflicts. Finch-Hatton once said to Blixen, “I don’t want to get to the end of my life and realize I’ve lived someone else’s.”</span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-style: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;">Isn’t that true of all of us? When we get to the end of our lives, no one regrets that they didn’t work more weekends. They regret not following their heart, spending more time with loved ones, listening to their Muse, or slowing down to smell the flowers along the way.</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-style: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></p> <img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikGxyswocUD74255W_Q8Lc063Dp1F9BRkxz9BiCIk-v4VqfGC_g6bj7GINCB3Cg_9VrSvfAhk5VuP1byAzz7nbnquAkLUV1vJ63TLSB30yaa7I0O-QWRSoSC0BdypGOOH5eDbFJOvqSKQ/s200/5star.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 142px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430803819141612658" /><p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-style: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;">It is a new year, a new decade. How about celebrating it by taking the time to think about what part of yourself you would like to express, explore, or create. That’s what a hand-crafted life is: something we make of ourselves, for ourselves. </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-style: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-style: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;">What might your hand-crafted life look like?</span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoBodyText"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;">I hope you have a day filled with a vision of living your own life.</span></span></p><p class="MsoBodyText"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;">Peace,</span></span></p><p class="MsoBodyText"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;">Kate</span></span></p><p class="MsoBodyText"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoBodyText"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC99;">All rights reserved, 2010 Hendersonville Times-News</span></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-style: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style=" ;color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07675007358159204799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807549661712468460.post-1848548724376881432010-01-01T13:37:00.012-05:002010-01-01T14:49:40.003-05:00A New View<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWZ7rSuJZXHqmK3zZwCmU6WM_4m11k1pC1SQRY945i4wMY30iJBo_Q-ZQJ0eXzqsgEfolo6kZpNWyhnQVWKgBUQVDBKKsUvWTSZ_mTtdpbb9lDRF9Mbac8dImQTG8uLUhMmcUaEJaUOpQ/s320/atoms+of+circles+05.09.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 274px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421853202271566274" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">I, a universe of atoms, an atom in the universe. </span><div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">-- Richard P. Feynman</span></div><p class="MsoNormal">Happy New Year! </p><p class="MsoNormal">Happy New Decade. It's hard to believe we're 10 years past Y2K.</p><p class="MsoNormal">One of my intentions for the new year is to write more, both for myself as well as thoughts to be read by others. I am proud to have a new column running in the local newspaper entitled <i>Living a Hand-Crafted Life</i> which revolves around how important it is to each of us to rediscover our passions and to follow our hearts. I will publish these columns in this blog after it is printed in the paper. <i>Living a Hand-Crafted Life</i> expresses how important each person's unique self-expression is in the scheme of things.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Martha Graham wrote:</p><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDo-s0m4SIL-U5MbJ_2DJNOxXKfB6g51UDVszE55Ngoc7oB6gs-3Pt3Lb-G3srW5H_2N8QcDisNb7o4FF5zYECoK5_LRV0v4bL2TxnonRLbng7yTkDFcrMjKyITLenRqtkph6xQk5EWro/s200/intersecting+circles+05.09.jpg" style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 148px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421854225903024162" /><blockquote><p class="MsoNormal">There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening, that is translated through you into action. And because there is only one you in all time, this expression is unique. If you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is, nor how it compares with expression. It is your business to keep the channel open.</p><br /></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" align="right" style="text-align:right"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="right" style="text-align: left;"> </p><p class="MsoNormal" align="right" style="text-align: left;">So this year, I am challenging myself to keep that channel open.</p><p class="MsoNormal" align="right" style="text-align: left;">This past fall, I took a class called <i>Foundations of Business </i>through a local non-profit <b><a href="http://www.mountainbizworks.org/">Mountain Bizworks</a></b> whose mission it is to support entrepreneurs starting their own small businesses. The first 4 weeks were all about financial info and planning. The second 4 weeks were about marketing. I thought I knew a bit about running a business and about marketing, but I really learned a lot! Not only about "break even point" and "gross profit" and business planning but also about marketing and what's underneath it all.</p><p class="MsoNormal" align="right" style="text-align: left;">The marketing discussion began with "what emotion are you appealing to with your business?" and then proceeded to creating a mission statement for our businesses. I've created and worked with mission statements for non-profits for years... but for my business? Of course! (Imagine me slapping my forehead as if I coulda hada V-8...) But how would I create a mission statement for my business, which has several different components? Jewelry, journals and books and cards, writing and design, teaching, and facilitating... they all seemed so different!</p><p class="MsoNormal" align="right" style="text-align: left;">It took me a few days... and some serendipitous conversations and readings... for me to realize that my business mission revolved around the importance of self-expression -- for anyone, not just me. So here it is (after much word-smithing):</p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" align="right" style="text-align: left;"></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="right" style="text-align: left;"></p><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGeoSjB6ETG0DThHmV4AzuFDROv4PXJyjuSvxPvnUoCC2JYogj-C9nlGS-8ExQLuuPMCbAqWiQp0wvbFbx0fWxR5NuYF_DFnqjA1kOkecpkTXyk14XgZzDTTs8FA-FgDH2LnZYKPB4wTY/s200/progressive+circle+06.27+to+07.06.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 143px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421854335265741346" /><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">The mission of </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">The Cre</span></b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">8</span></b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">tive Flow</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> is two-fold: to pursue my own passions for creating, and to encourage others to comfortably and self-confidently express themselves and their uniqueness. I aspire to provide high quality services and products that honor and respect the integrity of each individual and which offer opportunity for sincere connection within oneself and/or with others.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="right" style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="right" style="text-align: left;"></p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" align="right" style="text-align: left;">I also receive a daily message from <a href="http://dailygood.org/">Daily Good</a> (also check <a href="http://karmatube.org/">Karma Tube</a> and <a href="http://www.charityfocus.org/new/">Charity Focus</a>) and today's message was a video called <i>The Known Universe</i>. It is all about mathematical equations translated into images depicting what we know about the universe. It is <b><i>absolutely </i></b>mind blowing. BAM!</p><p class="MsoNormal" align="right" style="text-align: left;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9zNatoWT6Xj9f2SKerv3IPFrcODLTu4Pj2iVZl8BoAZy1deFa61bc1Yhwox-KD97n7Yh4bWfvUjfX7l8RaQ4f7S7CXtcBPYv7KN8LRzx9UiM33VYk9eFXwRE3IBzOliw7w_bXbVfzGes/s200/scalloped+sun+07.09.jpg" style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 187px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421853962627191714" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="right" style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="right" style="text-align: left;">But what is even more phenomenal than <i>The Known Universe</i> is the internal knowing that in all of creation there will be no one else exactly like each of us, creating the same energy, holding the same passions, offering the same connections as we do. And -- and this is <i><b>really </b></i><b>IT</b> -- Spirit (however you define It), knows and permeates each of us... EACH OF US... and imbues us with blessings and grace.</p><p class="MsoNormal" align="right" style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="right" style="text-align: left;">So, here is a new year's suggestion: Watch the video. Feel small. Then think about how Spirit knows YOU and connects individually with YOU. And how important you are.</p><p class="MsoNormal" align="right" style="text-align: left;">Now THAT's a Big Bang! BAM!</p><p class="MsoNormal" align="right" style="text-align: left;">Wishing all of us a new year of honored self-expression.</p><p class="MsoNormal" align="right" style="text-align: left;">Peace AND Prosperity,</p><p class="MsoNormal" align="right" style="text-align: left;">Kate</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p></p></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07675007358159204799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807549661712468460.post-72884987877680821502009-12-21T09:22:00.010-05:002010-03-14T07:30:52.898-04:00Living a Hand Crafted Life<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417695669520690242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7c_srtMnW9YAuNgMa1RBmEDGdc3kiaIGU-naLCQgdfwHQyjRQLNH1rXePC4PX9NeWa3w5-NIy8H9NsL8cYdBvRA_agjg4qYmlJWoU7y2ljWinrA1LGK-gVZovfsWsBXgJEu6h01Th7yU/s200/human+butterfly.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 168px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 200px;" /><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This is the first of a monthly series of a column entitled "Living a Hand Crafted Life" published in our local newspaper, the Hendersonville Times-News.</span></i></div>
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<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Don't ask what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive and then go do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” – Harold Thurman Whitman</span></i></b></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This is a powerful passage, one you m</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">ay have read before. I’ve seen it often and I believe it’s because the desire to do what we truly love resonates with each of us.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">This is a new column to explore and encourage what it might mean to create a life of one’s dreams. I think a lot about how important it is for each of us to express who we are. The act of self-expression occurs in myriad ways: in our work, our families, our art, our volunteer efforts, our community. Our strongest form of expression is related to our passions.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Take a moment to consider the question, “What are you passionate about?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Studies have shown that the amount of control we have over our lives directly corresponds with our mental health: the more control, the better our mental health; the less control, the poorer our mental health. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">These times are difficult and many find their lives out of control. Their passion then focuses on survival. This is completely appropriate. So how can we enrich our lives even though we are not in control of our surroundings?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Unemployment is high. I know: I was laid off from my full-time job less than a year ago. And while my logical side repeated, “Get a job! Make a paycheck!”, there was a constant small voice saying, “It will be ok. Do what you love.” And while I loved the work I had been doing, it was time for a change. I wanted to create a “crazy quilt” livelihood of all the things I love most. And unemployment was a blessing in disguise that gave me the opportunity to explore my passions.</span></div>
<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417695950964811458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-kq3ggkBZOsMuLe2nQZMjNmJTgQHR8oxxLaYalax7e7awFIzocQ5p0jSrmS4yTutXOxA-ctwMQsJth6qPeGgYkvktgYBM-o5HwYPCRrnvQ4xFIZ_8wfu7nrj7TbrBQSHMnA89IPBHS2Y/s200/doors.gif" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 143px; margin: 0 0 10px 10px; width: 150px;" /><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">The thought kept drifting through my head, “When a door closes, a window opens.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I found that with time for myself, I reconnected with one of my greatest passions: creating art. We are all creative. Our main hindrance is that we don’t give ourselves the time and space to explore our creativity, our unique form of self-expression. With my new schedule, I was able to dive into the art that had been pushed to the back burner, and it was a wondrous and prolific time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417696649962089458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSV03LjJhpamqcoVPYQg_mukgRx1xYeo2FGhJ1P-SU_BU-h_7Ke_xa0G991BBPhOhtwxrbRqg2HPgPw2187aKWi_25M8xJhVQLnsIjvu_DDFNNw-Ax3oIDmkwLNcwAuM92LAP_oK5g9uQ/s200/window+opens+peach+1.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 200px;" /><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">In the spring, I was invited to submit entries in a Recycled Art exhibit at Hand in Hand Gallery. Within days of receiving the invitation, I found a box of old brass window escutcheons (you know, where you put your fingers to open old, wooden, weighted windows) my dad had purchased in the 1960s from an old hardware store going out of business. (Being a child of a Depression-era parent, I could not get rid of these.) Intuitively, the recycled art idea came together, and I joyfully created a mixed media necklace using the escutcheon as a pendant holding words I’d cut from a vintage book “When a door closes a window opens” and adding brass chain, charms of pictures of closed doors and open windows encased in mica, glass lampwork beads, and a small key.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt;">Oh, I don’t deny it: times <i>are</i> tough. But today’s challenges demand that we live our lives differently – more creatively – than we have in the past. A hand crafted life is when one follows one’s inner voice – that inner compass – in order to create a more self-satisfying and fulfilling life.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt;">What hopes and dreams do you hold dear? </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">What are you passionate about?</span></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07675007358159204799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807549661712468460.post-63581120890352650712009-08-12T10:54:00.012-04:002009-08-12T12:34:47.887-04:00Serendipity of Three<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMLWZo_bXGCy40sZjTVIxweZmZFQuuR1-0RNo5gY4DUo2AeJO5HPXFIy2QDjHbuFGjYLhD-aUHB18-JzhF5Z0nrcG_gG0a8x2vLsUOoWnrE2gbnLVAaq67ckTJfngrc8lJWOhU7De8UVw/s1600-h/3+circles,+different+weaves+08.09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369094225523661890" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 246px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMLWZo_bXGCy40sZjTVIxweZmZFQuuR1-0RNo5gY4DUo2AeJO5HPXFIy2QDjHbuFGjYLhD-aUHB18-JzhF5Z0nrcG_gG0a8x2vLsUOoWnrE2gbnLVAaq67ckTJfngrc8lJWOhU7De8UVw/s320/3+circles,+different+weaves+08.09.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong><em>Three Rules of Work: </em></strong><div><strong><em>Out of clutter find simplicity; </em></strong></div><div><strong><em>From discord find harmony; </em></strong></div><div><strong><em>In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity. </em></strong></div><div><strong><em> -- Albert Einstein<br /></em></strong></div><div>I really admire Einstein. I know that's an understatement... and that I'm certainly not a maverick in this. I barely understand even the simplest of his theories. We all learned <strong>E=mc<span style="font-size:78%;">2</span></strong> in grammar school (Imagine, the generation before mine didn't even study that!) <em>Energy = mass x the constant speed of life squared</em>. I was a good student and learned those phrases, even if I couldn't wrap my head around them. Well, I'm not alone in that, either. I have a wonderfully thick book on Einstein's life waiting by my bed to be read... where it has been for at least a year. (I promise I'll return it, Roy!) The first photo of the genius in the book is of him riding a bicycle! Einstein... while he spoke with the Universe, never let go of his inner child.<br /></div><div>So this morning I received a daily message from <a href="http://www.dailygood.org/">CharityFocus</a> which began with his <em>Three Rules of Work</em>. While I've been distracted from writing in my blog, I've also been waiting to have something worth actually writing about. This morning gave me that serendipity of three. Thanks, Albert!</div><div> </div><div>Also, one of the newest crop circles in England is three circles connected and flowing one into the other with a smaller circle in each center. A beautiful graphic, but what's most interesting is that each of the center circles has a different lay of the grain, a different weaving, each as beautiful as the next. I've been fascinated by this intentional difference, wondering what the Energies were symbolizing in this variation of designs. (Or were they just having fun and showing off?) So, in honor of three's, I'm connecting each message to the other.<br /></div><div>1. <strong>Out of clutter find simplicity</strong></div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369098831259753266" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 286px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE_Rga8swKll6AeQvv0KjDEwME8_0YSJgoI-B_Midl-2hyOTT8X_Z-RU2K1gzO6EExqpPxyCRwXWTslDWr8eQobguQyp0A0EcZMaf6LE6w8qwufFxLwQyA9bv3v3UgdtxTux416Kj4E3c/s320/3+circles+ripple+weave08.09.jpg" border="0" /></div><div> </div><div>For a few months now, I have been distressed by the clutter in my life. I know that when my physical surroundings are in chaos, my mental state is disorganized. I've also been reminded time and again in various ways about the importance of Feng Shui and how our physical surroundings affect our own energy. I know that this physical clutter represents internal clutter. The greater the external chaos, the greater the internal chaos. So, with Andrew and Allen's help and a pull-myself-up-by-the-bootstrap effort on my part, I have started slowly nibbling away at all the clutter. (How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time...) It is all so overwhelming! I have written before what a packrat I am. But enough is enough! It IS time to lighten up. (Connie, thanks for your "electronic cow-prod" nudge!) My feelings are reflected in this quote from <a href="http://www.dailygood.org/">DailyGood</a>: <em>Nothing is so fatiguing as the eternal hanging on of an uncompleted task.</em> -- William James. Boy, ain't that the truth!<br /></div><div>I have been focusing on creating my jewelry over the past couple of months in order to meet some goals and timelines (shows, requests, etc.). This is an abundance of blessings for sure, but I have ignored other parts of my work in doing so. </div><div><br />One of those neglected areas is my bookbinding. I love binding books and creating journals, but there is no way to create jewelry and books in the same space: they require totally different tools and materials. So I haven't had the fortitude to put away all my jewelry work to indulge in my journals only to bring all the jewelry work back out once I've finished a couple of journals. So we have turned an adjacent room in our home into my book studio (talk about an abundance of blessings!). I'm very thankful for this space so I can indulge in both of my passions! Andrew and Allen have both helped me to start that shift. But, of course, that creates more clutter (it gets worse before it gets better). Further, I've been wanting the room arrangement to be comfortable from a practical <em>and</em> an energetic standpoint, and it has taken some time for the Muse to whisper what that set-up might be. But I know how I need the room arranged now... and now I need to go through all the accumulation to make that happen! (I'm not going to post a photo of THAT challenge!) </div><div> </div><div>Yesterday morning, I woke up early with the Muse whispering "Get up and straighten up!" So I spent some time organizing my jewelry studio so that it would be conducive to finding what I am looking for. Whew! What a difference! I feel so much better now when I'm in here now! Cleared desktops, files in order, leg room, notes where I need them. Ahhhh! Now I feel pride and relief when I walk into my jewelry studio, which encourages free-flowing energy and creativity. Next is my book studio (as soon as I finish this post)!</div><div><br /><br /></div><div>2. <strong>From discord find harmony</strong><br /><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9uJxRmLdiIvNiBTvoBVYJDByKZdP_f0X6HZ_dW0bJxQXW0NEK4D0GnjOytsfp46eyIB07-Mx3C_pG-n9roKJxCBTAny_Kb_ZeGnQ5Eb8ZdsRtzFAwD4mrmsjXFyX7qwG1xxw50_YGdE4/s1600-h/3+circles+ribbon+weave+08.09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369103374553906594" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 293px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9uJxRmLdiIvNiBTvoBVYJDByKZdP_f0X6HZ_dW0bJxQXW0NEK4D0GnjOytsfp46eyIB07-Mx3C_pG-n9roKJxCBTAny_Kb_ZeGnQ5Eb8ZdsRtzFAwD4mrmsjXFyX7qwG1xxw50_YGdE4/s320/3+circles+ribbon+weave+08.09.jpg" border="0" /></a>One of the mental wrestlings I've been having is about attaining balance in my new business: balancing creating (jewelry and books) with marketing (blog, website -- still to be completed -- writing, etc.) with R&D (yes, even small businesses need to develop new ideas and learn new skills!) with inventory (purchasing materials for my art) with general paperwork (accounting, correspondence, etc.). No wonder I have felt overwhelmed!<br /></div><div>So I arranged an hour phone call with life coach <a href="http://www.adaircates.com/">Adair Cates </a>, author of <em>Living with In<strong>ten</strong>tion</em> which covers 6 areas of life and 10 steps to feeling fulfilled by them. Adair sent me a form to complete prior to our phone call so we'd have somewhere to start our dialog. Being a good student, I completed it... but wasn't really pleased with what I came up with. During that conversation with Adair, she suggested I consider using the term "harmony" instead of "balance". And what a difference that makes! </div><div> </div><div>In some ways, I know balance is a moving target: one needs strong sea legs to maintain balance, shifting with the currents of life. And balancing the numerous roles we women play in life has been a focus of mine for a while now. What a challenge! It's like forgiveness: a one-shot effort doesn't do the trick, it's an on-going process. And on-going, and on-going. And I'm pretty rigid when it comes to how I'm approaching balance. (I know, that sounds like an oxymoron, but there you are.)</div><div><br />And while harmony is a challenge, too, it doesn't seem (to me) to be quite so structured, so demanding as the idea of balance. I like that; it gives me a break, a little wiggle-room. I don't know why there's a difference in my connotation of the words, but there is. It's as though harmony is inside and outside and flowing, while balance (as in scales) is more structured, more leveled. Maybe Justice is blind because she prefers harmony over those equally balanced scales she's holding....</div><div><br />So, now I am seeking to find harmony in what I do in my business. And the most recent way I have found balance was to rearrange my studios. And what harmony I find in my jewelry studio now (and my book studio very soon)! Ahhhhh....</div><div><br /> </div><div>3. <strong>In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity</strong>.</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoCU9DjJPhRK1xHHjivVBfxvONuaMZI4jqdIcIJuduNoJmjwRSDzoWupZPQ58TKqT-qiuDrD0syOgZ2LqPzT4eWWIFnOqS_0GhzfHG5sxk0Ed1Ew1J46y6cuDNNeZ5JzE0rmgxnosf_oM/s1600-h/3+circles+basket+weave.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369103481859940946" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 291px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoCU9DjJPhRK1xHHjivVBfxvONuaMZI4jqdIcIJuduNoJmjwRSDzoWupZPQ58TKqT-qiuDrD0syOgZ2LqPzT4eWWIFnOqS_0GhzfHG5sxk0Ed1Ew1J46y6cuDNNeZ5JzE0rmgxnosf_oM/s320/3+circles+basket+weave.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div>This has been a difficult few months. Husband Andrew being away from home with his work, me becoming unemployed, son Allen leaving home (then returning after being arrested), and daughter Paige leaving home (that chapter is still unfinished). </div><div> </div><div>However, there has been great opportunity for growth and learning in these times.</div><div> </div><div>Andrew is looking for a job that will allow him to be home full-time. It's not easy, but it will come: the perfect work at the perfect time. </div><div> </div><div>I have started my own "crazy quilt" business where I am incorporating the things I am most passionate about into what I offer to others: my artwork, my writing, my teaching, and my facilitation. I have been very blessed by the response to <em>The Cre8tive Flow</em>, and I am very thankful. And I am fulfilled with what I am doing (and learning how to be harmonious with it, too).</div><div> </div><div>Allen had 180 degree turn-around after his return home from his 3-week adventure in March. He is accepting responsibility for his choices, and continues to grow. He has completed high school by earning his GED. He is driving now and looking for full-time work. He is compassionate for others (I could learn from him), respectful, kind, and thoughtful. He is strong physically and mentally. He is looking before he leaps. I'm proud of him and enjoy being around him.</div><div> </div><div>Paige chose to go live elsewhere in May, and is making choices based on the most fun she can have right <em>now</em>. I send her prayers of safety and clarity whenever I think of her. Obviously, this is the path she needs to walk right now in order to learn the lessons she needs to learn, whatever they may be.</div><div> </div><div>The main lesson I've learned over these past several months is to <em>let go of control, and trust Spirit</em>. This is The Big One for me. I certainly don't know or understand all the dynamics at work in my family of souls. I do believe that we are all together in this lifetime to help each other learn the lessons we -- at a soul level -- agreed we needed in order to grow closer to the Divine, and our own Divine Selves. A la <a href="http://www.myss.com/">Caroline Myss</a>'s <em>Sacred Contracts</em>. And the mystery and miracle is that learning my lesson somehow coincides perfectly with my loved ones learning their lessons; the lessons complement each other. Now THAT is mind-boggling. Wonder what Einstein would have to say about that?</div><div> </div><div>Another lesson I've learned is that <em>everything happens in perfect timing</em>. I don't see the big picture, but Spirit does. And while I don't believe in predestination, there is a Divine Plan where Divine Timing works. That's another part of the mystery: we have free will, and it is in miraculous harmony with the Divine. </div><div> </div><div>My mind is starting to feel fireworks and go "boomboomboom" as I start to try to comprehend what I've written, so I'm going to stop here so I can be practical and move into my book studio. </div><div> </div><div>I hope you find simplicity, harmony, and opportunity in your day today.</div><div> </div><div>Peace,</div><div>Kate</div><div> </div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07675007358159204799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807549661712468460.post-89741798429965684522009-07-01T10:35:00.031-04:002009-07-01T16:24:06.760-04:00Dragonflies in the Summer<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353567559682432642" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 258px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaHPHflznr56ybQ8smI_iKOPq2vwIssZiyJHEt34PHRUiMJjM5KZvlDyMdZ1UUhQg7fSh2BzsyNukLLVcrQ5f9UqeFJdxxOuFhFPlIZJlb5yBQ_FlA-awNCmAqrCIieNenh1mDV61vTrI/s320/dragonfly+3+06.09.jpg" border="0" />This amazing crop circle appeared in England a couple of weeks ago.<br /><br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div> </div><div>The circles this season seem to be quite different than in past years. This dragonfly (as well as the <a href="http://kate-stockman.blogspot.com/2009/06/jellyfish-and-light-of-forgiveness.html">jellyfish </a>which appeared around the same time) and other recent circles have amazing details that I've not seen in previous circles. Notice the wi<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwBlSgjIzsdHL1kcRdrih481oRXHC6-_tj9cI_2_IkcyBZF44P8i0IKY1skikBdtMtJFwMXdKKdjxPGosjAr6Nlc4C3u4mxlNVmh2aXSGeLJRdfwVA4lNMzm9jDsB4pJCMz6WvwlbnqKs/s1600-h/more+jellyfish+06.09.jpg"></a>ngs of the dragonfly. While the wings are symmetrical and geometric, the lines within the wings are delicately different. So are the tentacles of the jellyfish. </div></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353570773977221746" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 179px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgvE2O5XvzWCNm358vcIcAwH-Ltu_bQKCG0jUol2I4KGB59H2-Ab6RMIRhduh50kiHG0I3Fy3FrYW2e66dAk8eu63HlsJSlOtVnLXUpNQDtC0gtxrEtliYO90ZycG5AsPPGkwgUiTTB2Y/s200/more+jellyfish+06.09.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div>And the body from this "tadpole", (for lack of a better descriptor).<br /></div><br /><div> </div><div> </div><div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353584313212828034" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 154px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdkWdT62IzXsxi_RTfGkzRiQ3OEwnvaRUFeBXZpQnhaf6btPKNGo3R1yB3tJvwvtdtekWTkPFcNnZiYJpkqArfbEYwMZ5P-V-YVbawrvmD4U_ZPZOV5j0Or_1euvDHlwpUHUaTFtzOWvI/s200/fertilization+of+the+egg.jpg" border="0" /><br /></div><div>And then there's this circle image of an egg being sought after by 8 sperm (again, my own label).<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijJTetxlilpxsozmXzVV62DC8AKkC6e6Kx5uHZ_5x0zKBBgDJinwyMGPxNDnt5FrBADUEYfAorcmJEX23ZP3VIXa5BqGgthwEvISUOh9ZjIlr0rUmU-Qg10dMxvWa9NhNRFsvTbSoPmGQ/s1600-h/swallow+kit+w+glyphs!+06.09.jpg"></a></div><br /><br /><div><br /><br /></div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTwDSntHTv4A3ro2A5k5-Zqcthr3jVFegnsnQOZzL_f2by44zZODa1L48ctciRIyQSz1BL2v6EWdknFaeqbOZHaEpi2pvtVyKaaiVE-EZSySGVCIAuDVRjSVbMJZJ9dNAOYuwBFcZJM5A/s1600-h/swallow+kit+w+glyphs!+06.09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353585057972888546" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 249px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTwDSntHTv4A3ro2A5k5-Zqcthr3jVFegnsnQOZzL_f2by44zZODa1L48ctciRIyQSz1BL2v6EWdknFaeqbOZHaEpi2pvtVyKaaiVE-EZSySGVCIAuDVRjSVbMJZJ9dNAOYuwBFcZJM5A/s320/swallow+kit+w+glyphs!+06.09.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Now <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJuiavSOwt3K37NR0h-rUUHkallzSxL3pYkpmhhXrGnKZcRiKRQmmae5H5cxoYxhZVIKGxh0Smml0GVJeFBmvWeTse2-4tbMkKQxpj1UKY5Q-Xk6QR9fIvdl4YCr6BqmqRSl5ZrsdaMlE/s1600-h/swallow+kit+w+glyphs!+06.09.jpg"></a>check out this latest circle: while swallows have been the design for other beautiful circles, this newest one is unique with what looks like code floating behind the swallow! I wonder what secrets those glyphs hold? And why are they associated with the swallow/bird? It looks like a kite taking flight. Bewildering and exquisitely mysterious!</div><br /><br /><div><br /> </div><div><div><div><div><div>For more crop circle info, check out <a href="http://www.cropcircleconnector.com/interface2005.htm">Crop Circle Connector </a>and/or <a href="http://www.temporarytemples.co.uk/">Temporary Temples</a>.</div><br /><br /><div><br /> </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPaA_Q5Xl2fXKZtiH5st7bdA_7HN0Pg6cp7jlfaoYSKNGkBN9GJglbWpK8EGQX6hQ1VAw3LCCvsPGixAovEc9_ZPSHwUuzCHbJsISDYY2b3bVLm8h3ekXLuWFUyjVlPYHrKDpTXXNm018/s1600-h/crescent+fan+06.09.jpg"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpImqSlMsMPDdrqTFSLp7ur523bI0VNFAam6SnU5OVvoThMaVj_dFaQ9K9jhc_OI3awWsdhZ3uJGW6VpqmQOO73_Awyd7SRm-HoRk6sYFt6K_dPIdbaU1th9a4N6yS2724k1oGR1nyTXw/s1600-h/crescent+fan+06.09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353587021627941858" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 154px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpImqSlMsMPDdrqTFSLp7ur523bI0VNFAam6SnU5OVvoThMaVj_dFaQ9K9jhc_OI3awWsdhZ3uJGW6VpqmQOO73_Awyd7SRm-HoRk6sYFt6K_dPIdbaU1th9a4N6yS2724k1oGR1nyTXw/s200/crescent+fan+06.09.jpg" border="0" /></a>Summer is <strong><em>not</em></strong> my favorite time of the year. Heat and I are <em><strong>not</strong></em> good friends (and hormonal shifts don't help that relationship, either!). Andrew and I moved to the NC mountains from Charleston, SC, because we wanted to live in these green mountains as well as where there were four seasons. In Charleston, there were only 2 seasons: hot and hotter!<br /><br />Even this recent crop circle seems to recognize the hot weather with a fan designed with crescents! Or maybe it's referring to our upcoming 3 summer eclipses.<br /><br /></div><div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353581022852883122" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 122px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQwpdhId3QuoXmMLAfuGYOaXbV_SqbjyyXgQ2mJU0oyHSgzI4FCh14NPqKh09DN7n6CuuH2TPCSN5oZpouiLxtwR9AFjZ9FmI84Qx7eKX9sdA5YycDLAr-G35KWeDiml3Axb1HPphhB2I/s200/auburn+closeup.jpg" border="0" />A few years ago, I decided to create an altered book depicting the things I love about summer: the ripeness, the abundance of scents and flowers, the birds and the bees. An "altered book" is a book on one topic that you alter the pages/cover/etc. to make it about another topic. I found a wonderful book on the sun at a thrift store entitled <em>The Fire of Life</em>, published by the Smithsonian and re-titled it "Summer <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib8RPZ3nvJBxTp86LZ7f3YQVF9_y6oC0WkV3TszCSx6qzpa-It_GzfljnfefFcB2YqVZAAnChWrWbOeGOOgv_D0lCR7tg8AvmK2Y3hykl7mnQMrByGAYXw-XqKo115mZHcOG7zztmMZtM/s1600-h/red!.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353581394719559442" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib8RPZ3nvJBxTp86LZ7f3YQVF9_y6oC0WkV3TszCSx6qzpa-It_GzfljnfefFcB2YqVZAAnChWrWbOeGOOgv_D0lCR7tg8AvmK2Y3hykl7mnQMrByGAYXw-XqKo115mZHcOG7zztmMZtM/s200/red!.jpg" border="0" /></a>Solstice". Some of the pages I left alone because they were about the summer solstice (astronomy, legends and myths about the sun, etc.). Other pages, I altered by covering with decorative papers, rubber stamp impressions, photos, postcards, calendar art, etc. I even took multi-page articles from magazines (such as on the Monarch butterfly from an old National Geographic) and made them into booklets so that I included books within the books. It was a labor of love, and made the heat more tolerable. </div><br /><br /><div><br /></div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY2qwQ6KSVppMBvA-hW9f5-hp0_7S5aWs1bXylL_5YkhTsg8TgIxqStatsXkrX9Pb_HrJvMVqo_RnibXfPsxUbD3VoZABuqMEmVWf54TAHUnlLBb_6NGFdcDP7uUOYtCoAvxNg5EtWrVw/s1600-h/aqua+d-f.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353580624993766002" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 141px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY2qwQ6KSVppMBvA-hW9f5-hp0_7S5aWs1bXylL_5YkhTsg8TgIxqStatsXkrX9Pb_HrJvMVqo_RnibXfPsxUbD3VoZABuqMEmVWf54TAHUnlLBb_6NGFdcDP7uUOYtCoAvxNg5EtWrVw/s200/aqua+d-f.jpg" border="0" /></a>Dragonflies played a role in that book, and they hold special images for me that associate them with summertime and warm weather. I remember as a young girl going with my mom once a month on a Saturday morning to the cemetary where her mother was buried. While she trimmed around the gravestone (and I'm sure "talked" with her beloved mother), I walked, skipped, and ran along the sidewalks criss-crossing the large, open land, reading the grave markers and stopping at the statues overlooking the grassy blanket of ground. I remember always seeing dragonflies hovering and flying around a large statue of an open bible. They were so beautiful and irridescent in the richest colors imaginable! They could hover, zip forward, glisten in the sun, and dart wherever they wanted... they were magical. Nature gifted the dragonfly with very special paint colors!<br /></div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKuR9pcTaBsMQmQyHMYJK3SCzoBGhvd-9xW9qWVUlwEsrnYGC7KVTTgdty9osTha2mqBEPHUzTDO5gOp5ZvjGbdaeRMFFO1lmO7s_I9HWzUJg109E-nR8qfR8lKwEYgj8rTRgk_1M0E3E/s1600-h/blk+and+white+wings.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353581017008606706" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 186px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKuR9pcTaBsMQmQyHMYJK3SCzoBGhvd-9xW9qWVUlwEsrnYGC7KVTTgdty9osTha2mqBEPHUzTDO5gOp5ZvjGbdaeRMFFO1lmO7s_I9HWzUJg109E-nR8qfR8lKwEYgj8rTRgk_1M0E3E/s200/blk+and+white+wings.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />As an adult, I remember being led by dragonflies down a country road in Tennessee. Andrew and I were looking for mountain land to buy to retire to; this was outside of Nashville and dragonflies literally led us down the road to the entrance to the property. While we didn't buy that property, it was a procession to remember!<br /></div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim3-RecTPXTd-Lv5uTzQxB9W3iJI91p8hDcwugMFNl1h9xHWc9KRy2qqFwwQrm1HQWrcFZ7BDcLulhYbvZE8G0m89UrC-CsfHfCFfDBLkDOijmuMGAA0XOyiS03g9zM-MxYebTdQczo70/s1600-h/deep+blue+on+queen+annes+lace.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353581393595913490" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 130px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim3-RecTPXTd-Lv5uTzQxB9W3iJI91p8hDcwugMFNl1h9xHWc9KRy2qqFwwQrm1HQWrcFZ7BDcLulhYbvZE8G0m89UrC-CsfHfCFfDBLkDOijmuMGAA0XOyiS03g9zM-MxYebTdQczo70/s200/deep+blue+on+queen+annes+lace.jpg" border="0" /></a>A few years ago, I was swimming in a nearby small, man-made lake. Dragonflies and damselflies of all colors were darting just above the surface of the water. After my swim, I sat on the dock and spent some quiet time looking into the water just below. There were fish languidly suspended below the water while dragonflies were flitting above the water; and then there was my reflection on the water's surface. It was appropriate that my reflection was between the languid, relaxed and the active, darting images.<br /><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzyOr6s-TQU_nCYEpHS3EMcXDSpY1U6H4MhAGkzXUnT3fPACGiIo-LuDk6b8BZ36qqj2LNy8b4Mkz76E-69n5xrOHoAYJH7je6s6UBr5wVAGDmv9YIWc17ddWvAsZKkBiMRfXYlSUMx2I/s1600-h/cobalt+again+copy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353581395647984898" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 132px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzyOr6s-TQU_nCYEpHS3EMcXDSpY1U6H4MhAGkzXUnT3fPACGiIo-LuDk6b8BZ36qqj2LNy8b4Mkz76E-69n5xrOHoAYJH7je6s6UBr5wVAGDmv9YIWc17ddWvAsZKkBiMRfXYlSUMx2I/s200/cobalt+again+copy.jpg" border="0" /></a>In Native American medicine, Dragonfly symbolizes "Illusion". According to "<a href="http://www.jamiesams.com/">Medicine Cards</a>" by <a href="http://www.jamiesams.com/">Jamie Sams </a>and David Carson, "some legends say that Dragonfly was once Dragon, and that Dragon had scales like Dragonfly's wings." Can you imagine how beautiful Dragons must have been? </div><br /><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353583845712185282" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 178px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx8zVV1sNjr0MFc9qsoQXObYELCK96dnql6z8vQRkWoBK7ORxHd8HptjpeOGxsLwBAUl4-rq1SVV_lk7L6gC4OW4JUgsd8ksa1ViaozM5l2Tb92bEzlxTa4V2cmcFmzrp86uJ8kQW2VWc/s200/misty.jpg" border="0" /><br />Also, "Dragonfly is the essence of the winds of change and the illusory facade we accept as physical reality.... messages of wisdom and enlightenment, and connection with the elemental world and nature.... If you feel the need for change, call on Dragonfly to guide you through the mists of illusion to the pathway of transformation."</div><div><br /> </div><div>I've been talking with a lot of different folks about the need for change and flexibility in these times. Yesterday, I heard some shocking statistics: worldwide, extreme poverty means that a family lives on less than $2 per day; moderate poverty means that a family lives on $3 per day. In the US, poverty levels are those where a family lives on $40 per day. Also, in underdeveloped countries, a person uses 20 liters of water per day on average. In the US, each person uses 600 liters of water per day! Indeed, these are times for change and for breaking through the illusion that we haveunlimited natural resources <em>as well as</em> the entitlement to use them all up! Dragonfly seems to be a suitable symbol for the changes we all need to make, and the illusions we all need to release.<br /></div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9NlpUCof0mDQVbkr656JeVnP8eDBYLCckxBOE-EJcEwfaBNN5i3U3zFsnpjoKG7yWmcRtLTHqho8BYv8jNguiQNGNlqQQ3o6Z9CzGvE0QBfnUsHvC7KWtH80d2lYLDZXoMbSAg4hszIo/s1600-h/red+w+autumn+maples.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353589260077650594" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 190px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9NlpUCof0mDQVbkr656JeVnP8eDBYLCckxBOE-EJcEwfaBNN5i3U3zFsnpjoKG7yWmcRtLTHqho8BYv8jNguiQNGNlqQQ3o6Z9CzGvE0QBfnUsHvC7KWtH80d2lYLDZXoMbSAg4hszIo/s200/red+w+autumn+maples.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div>One more dragonfly story: on Monday of this week, my son Allen was driving us somewhere and a dragonfly bounced into our car windshield and slid down into the windshield wipers. Allen asked if he should turn on the wipers to help set it free. I said I thought that might injure it more. So we pulled into a parking lot and Allen got out and gently helped untangle the dragonfly from the wiper. We were thinking it was already injured, so Allen had intended to place the dragonfly on the ground in the shade of a bush. But as Allen lifted the dragonfly from its entrapment, it lifted up out of his hands, hovered a bit, then flew off. The look of wonder and joy on Allen's face was a beautiful sight. I'm so thankful for dragonflies!<br /><br /></div><div>I hope today brings you positive change full of beauty.<br /></div><br /><div>Peace,</div><div>Kate</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07675007358159204799noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807549661712468460.post-36939012490396167492009-06-21T13:42:00.027-04:002009-06-21T23:28:56.002-04:00Blessed Summer Solstice!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj568i7mF9Iktijdde9dUjpfED8xaRjshJULHsUt0M23xL2LPFYwFQLGL2vMJObGnatZqVlJiqmFJAvjbkOAjOKla6NNNnGWrjo7ajUJgWgtCswl_pmVGcS3Ve_5RNasnB1AW0jXuLgKd4/s1600-h/spirals+and+points+05.09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349886953833071538" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 172px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj568i7mF9Iktijdde9dUjpfED8xaRjshJULHsUt0M23xL2LPFYwFQLGL2vMJObGnatZqVlJiqmFJAvjbkOAjOKla6NNNnGWrjo7ajUJgWgtCswl_pmVGcS3Ve_5RNasnB1AW0jXuLgKd4/s200/spirals+and+points+05.09.jpg" border="0" /></a>Today is the <strong>Summer Solstice</strong>, the day of the year which has the longest daylight. Imagine how the ancients celebrated having so much light! The Dark Time of the Year was Winter Solstice, the day which was "the birth of the Sun", when the Sun began increasing in the number of hours it appeared to warm the cold places. Nowadays, our Sun heats our places and summer weather seems longer while winter season seems milder than when I was younger. Even living in the mountains.<br /><br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnDIGu9Ca_mfnU5oWUAv0vbZj3ynB_8ka_oTTjc_aD5YPFgqeCpYQ8E8cqUIKaw-RBxFcaemVdf6QwF2Ub_7oO19g9EbUhZ0A4GC5XLtJoOvW0c8jFIIXpVkjnPSk2Em-gcgrkVnTN8GI/s1600-h/ribbons+of+spirals+%26+circles.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349983851666852738" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 178px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnDIGu9Ca_mfnU5oWUAv0vbZj3ynB_8ka_oTTjc_aD5YPFgqeCpYQ8E8cqUIKaw-RBxFcaemVdf6QwF2Ub_7oO19g9EbUhZ0A4GC5XLtJoOvW0c8jFIIXpVkjnPSk2Em-gcgrkVnTN8GI/s200/ribbons+of+spirals+%26+circles.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div>To me, the solstices represent extremes: the most or least number of hours of daylight. This <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlBI5u48b6FVL7cSPZ2haloYAnvRkYafot7z5mifhv0MXIUDXVavwPXbZ1_FiuyU7VJh1LIjj_SDo-RJYRNkhDgXDtDCq823ce_T0k2tdi2phx3g16T2Re8Qeuuzhw1v_xbOesjj8MsCA/s1600-h/ribbons+of+spirals+%26+circles.jpg"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlBI5u48b6FVL7cSPZ2haloYAnvRkYafot7z5mifhv0MXIUDXVavwPXbZ1_FiuyU7VJh1LIjj_SDo-RJYRNkhDgXDtDCq823ce_T0k2tdi2phx3g16T2Re8Qeuuzhw1v_xbOesjj8MsCA/s1600-h/ribbons+of+spirals+%26+circles.jpg"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUbVX78KxK8vFGYIE3SKHWMxYeGuNIsgEQyuyqRRnX6gpsgS3wwnPvE41akp4x729HVS1DcgrcckyD4ZXE5l1U0xYY1zz2nF19RN5gkur5sGVXmeAGMV0JMF9bmWiALwj4vsNlBr7ifIA/s1600-h/sun,+snake,+germany,+july+27+08.jpg"></a>certainly seems appropriate this year. Often life in general seems to be on the edge... of disaster or breakthrough. While I'm very thankful for all of our blessings and abundance, I am also aware of the fragility of every aspect of our lives.<br /><br /></div><div><div><div><div><div><div><br /><p align="left">I have quoted <a href="http://www.donnahenes.net/">Donna Henes</a>' book <strong><em>Celestially Auspicious Occasions</em></strong> before, and I will do so again, because I think she says it so well:</p></div><div><p align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmASPcc6D08PbE7xCwqkupnt5ruXcEAsBFCP3YtyqfiHSmMWEyEvXsl1QvKYEkXMOsMF0Ll1noqZpCkW63_7UBZw56PNnpxm6-CWZ1afM6eHQ-zUN5uQ1CJu9dtQSnQRsyYkb2T9NEwAI/s1600-h/explosion2.jpg"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349984174938680914" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 162px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmASPcc6D08PbE7xCwqkupnt5ruXcEAsBFCP3YtyqfiHSmMWEyEvXsl1QvKYEkXMOsMF0Ll1noqZpCkW63_7UBZw56PNnpxm6-CWZ1afM6eHQ-zUN5uQ1CJu9dtQSnQRsyYkb2T9NEwAI/s200/explosion2.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="color:#993300;">The seasonal ascent of light and temperature is not -- despite popular belief -- due to our distance from the sun, but to the degree of directness of its rays. It would be logical... to assume that in the summer the earth approaches closest to the sun, and that we are farthest away in the cold dark of winter. Wrong! The earth reaches its perihelion, the point on our orbit that brings us closest to the sum, in winter (usually around Jan 2 or 3); and conversely, during summer (July 5 or so) we attain our aphelion, the farthest reach of our range from the sun.<br /><br />Though the distance from the sun is greatest in the summer, it is at the Summer Solstice that the sun sits highest in the sky. The steep path of its rays is angled vertically</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPrlzdpkHzZcp5ZlXxVoemSZ5kLujnH61oggITr2T9g-ly7qevYYgZfaKwFfdyXWG4DwGTENYQpMWEFDgyyUis0Nps9A1mDoOfZHnHnhsjSIxnlAX_9MUsFhrVS2UJ3wx3NcGewhfoFOA/s1600-h/brown+sunflower.jpg"><span style="color:#993300;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349887309428673634" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 191px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPrlzdpkHzZcp5ZlXxVoemSZ5kLujnH61oggITr2T9g-ly7qevYYgZfaKwFfdyXWG4DwGTENYQpMWEFDgyyUis0Nps9A1mDoOfZHnHnhsjSIxnlAX_9MUsFhrVS2UJ3wx3NcGewhfoFOA/s200/brown+sunflower.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="color:#993300;"> overhead. Its energy is aimed arrowlike straight down on us.<br /><br />The Summer Solstice is the height of the glory of the season of the sun. It is at this point that the dark must begin to creep back.... For several days before beginning its descent, the sun stands sentinel at dawn. It seems to stand stark still in the sky, which is what <em>solstice</em> means: "sun stands still". (Just) As we celebrate the birth of the brand-new sun at the Winter Solstice, we<br />salute its vibrant maturity at the solstice in the summer.<br /><br />In megalithic times, people began to create structures that would enable them to track the course of the sun, the source of life. These solar observatories were specifically designed to give precise determination of the days of the solstices... that are the times of greatest extreme. It was necessary to calculate the longest summer day, since it serves as a signal light, a warning sign for changes in light and weather to come.<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7oRNHyF22-iN_ZuwkkLQo0dK9xuS2ufl-jYhIwujgTkeYqcZXCR-bpAFle6HMtmULwz0Q_hHZkvYDbn2NIRS1HN6Pg4jGnrfVwy4nujsTsICUjsVJ6LjD_EYHAoE5dq8dRNJQs548VjE/s1600-h/sun,+snake,+germany,+july+27+08.jpg"><span style="color:#993300;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349985219386787442" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 145px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7oRNHyF22-iN_ZuwkkLQo0dK9xuS2ufl-jYhIwujgTkeYqcZXCR-bpAFle6HMtmULwz0Q_hHZkvYDbn2NIRS1HN6Pg4jGnrfVwy4nujsTsICUjsVJ6LjD_EYHAoE5dq8dRNJQs548VjE/s200/sun,+snake,+germany,+july+27+08.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="color:#993300;">Indigenous Europeans... built many such sun shrines. Stonehenge, the most famous standing stone circle, has its main axis in perfect alignment with the Summer Solstice sunrise. Strikingly similar monuments to the movements of the heavens were built by the ancestors of the tribes of the Great Plains of the northern US and Canada... positioned in exact orientation to the solstice sunrise. There are more than 50 knowing medicine wheels, some dating back 2,500 years.<br /><br /></span><span style="color:#993300;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349984347871065922" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 132px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYZ-AChztuEaGLaW-KDKyJPCQz2KBXahOC0BJmoCqS8qURxWDRkL96LqvvztHbZgXr8YLzyZqha9KgJFuQLv6uXH0cb1QhLhKG2z2TieSVdjaDN_zzomvGuR1nemANEQgEz4Ol76FIgeM/s200/feathers.jpg" border="0" /></span><span style="color:#993300;"><br />Summer Solstice is a holyday celebrated with fire and flame. Bonfires are lit in honor of the sun, perhaps the most universal of the celebrations. It is the ultimate act of flattery by imitation.... And at the same time, the light and heat of the fire serve to soothe and affirm that, though departing, the sun will surely return.<br /><br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA6l876kt2f5RsG1LqxAYXE_j-InL8XoUv2rVT5SoQ7FO4wBr4D3rSY1cZviGUIcjVQVsnOZrEadRfgZ9elZfw0_YT3FImfTlOMediAHdt70-8cg8u314PEHkFlV7uz8dtYVtxR79OtK0/s1600-h/scarab.jpg"><span style="color:#993300;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349987153564675314" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 143px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA6l876kt2f5RsG1LqxAYXE_j-InL8XoUv2rVT5SoQ7FO4wBr4D3rSY1cZviGUIcjVQVsnOZrEadRfgZ9elZfw0_YT3FImfTlOMediAHdt70-8cg8u314PEHkFlV7uz8dtYVtxR79OtK0/s200/scarab.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="color:#993300;">In ancient Egypt, the Summer Solstice was celebrated by the Burning of the Lamps in honor of Isis, Queen of Heaven. In Rome, the day was dedicated to Vesta, known as Hestia in Greece... guardians of the public hearth and altar. The Norse goddess Sol, Sul, or Sulis drove the chariot of the sun. Ancient Buddhist texts speak of the sun chariot as the Great Vehicle or the Chariot of Fire. The ancient Greeks pictured the Sun carried across the daytime sky in a golden chariot steered by Apollo (Artemis' twin brother; she was goddess of the Moon and the hunt). </span></p><p align="left"><span style="color:#993300;">The Hopi Summer Solstice ceremony perfectly describes this seasonal shift in terms of a transferal of our spiritual reliance on divine illumination to the realization of our own personal response-ability. </span><br /></p><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAshrouQBx8yuOVdynQVXptH1OhfCTcgjjnvyKJZEryh1AN7_jbpo1myr4OsWzmsg5sMlGaNFVssnDEoEUq7cEHpambQU6XqpHZeTaLTf7fvQiI4FDXWJLxLuGfb9YxdFF3VdPlHg4NGM/s1600-h/thunderbird+2+06.09.jpg"><span style="color:#993300;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349984569199853826" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 143px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAshrouQBx8yuOVdynQVXptH1OhfCTcgjjnvyKJZEryh1AN7_jbpo1myr4OsWzmsg5sMlGaNFVssnDEoEUq7cEHpambQU6XqpHZeTaLTf7fvQiI4FDXWJLxLuGfb9YxdFF3VdPlHg4NGM/s200/thunderbird+2+06.09.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="color:#993300;">In the Dakota tribe, the Sun Dance was the most powerful observance of the year. According to Russell Means, a leader of the American Indian Movement and a survivor of the armed occupation at Wounded Knee in 1973 on the site of the Pine Ridge Reservation massacre of 1890, during the Sun Dance "we want to get in touch with the female, so we create purification ceremonies for boys and men to bring us to an understanding of what it is like to give birth.... During those four days and nights we do not eat or drink water so we can try to begin to understand the suffering of pregnancy.... On the fourth day we pierce our chests, maybe even our backs, to understand the pain and the giving of flesh and blood the woman goes through.</span></div><br /><div>(Russell Means is also an actor who has played in many movies, including <strong><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0104691/">The Last of the Mohicans</a></strong> as the Mohawk father Chingachgook.)<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidJVSobY57w8uju2GC-NFsIWuSPVe76j-mMlGyQjpZX9YBDuY6_YDw5phxAu93ua2FxExWHk7uuUWX6SoQ4Bj21743OBPAONLPDpuArVRODz1HfHO65HcSKkM2DLehh7Q-xAbFsDU1wVw/s1600-h/more+swallows+2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349985535382553666" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 143px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidJVSobY57w8uju2GC-NFsIWuSPVe76j-mMlGyQjpZX9YBDuY6_YDw5phxAu93ua2FxExWHk7uuUWX6SoQ4Bj21743OBPAONLPDpuArVRODz1HfHO65HcSKkM2DLehh7Q-xAbFsDU1wVw/s200/more+swallows+2.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><br /><div>Summer Solstice is a time of fertility and abundance (in the Northern Hemisphere, that is). The green of the plant world around us is riotous, as are the sounds of insects, birds, chicks, and thunderstorms. The heat and the rain collaborate to encourage astounding growth. The plants grow, luxuriating in the hothouse created by the weather and the insects feed on the plants and the birds feed on the seeds and the insects. It is the circle of life: birth, growth, decline, and rebirth. </div><br /><br /><div>I have found for myself and with friends that our lives often feel overwhelming and overabundant at this time of year. I think this is a reflection of the natural cycle going on around us. I also think that right now, there is so much going on in the <em>un</em>-natural world (based upon man-made decisions, changes, cultural habits, etc.) that it creates a chaos that all of us (human, animal, etc.) feel energetically, at a subtle but powerful level. Just watch the news or read the headlines and feel how your body is responding. Conversely, light a candle and sit and breathe quietly and notice how your body feels. Fragmentation vs. focus. </div><br /><br /><div>I hope you have had a chance to enjoy the sun and the peak of the light today.</div><br /><br /><div>Peace,</div><div>Kate </div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07675007358159204799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807549661712468460.post-90755493817653794252009-06-20T14:40:00.010-04:002009-06-21T16:36:50.549-04:00Time for Celebrations... Commencement<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsxiqNGmInKeLBPwmUaTDH_b1IFmnIUITcGso9aIKkugVg4Cg_Cywb3Q6noVyNsInoWb-4yAk7mxOIYUMJ5qlIuX2sBd8ezNAXIQgFQa8X0HZxT51C0fiT_Lz5tLz_j34QWkCIgdorVTM/s1600-h/all+knowing+eye.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349488326556952706" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 151px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsxiqNGmInKeLBPwmUaTDH_b1IFmnIUITcGso9aIKkugVg4Cg_Cywb3Q6noVyNsInoWb-4yAk7mxOIYUMJ5qlIuX2sBd8ezNAXIQgFQa8X0HZxT51C0fiT_Lz5tLz_j34QWkCIgdorVTM/s200/all+knowing+eye.jpg" border="0" /></a>Last night, our 18-year-young son Allen participated in the graduation program for GED graduates at <a href="http://www.blueridge.edu/">Blue Ridge Community College</a>. While Allen didn't really want to participate because he was nervous about being on stage, he did participate (guess who suggested that he did?). After the commencement exercise was completed, he said he was glad he did.<br /><br /><br /><div><div><div><div>That's what rituals are about: a physical manifestation of a rite of passage, a stage completed (or entered into), a tangible ceremony around an intangible process. Whether it's a wedding, a graduation, a baptism, or a funeral, ritual helps us acknowledge and better grasp what process has been entered into or what covenant has been made.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwrWZyWSKskptN8dojRXZ1OV91II-5Tykhj8WobEQYL_YtkOPHrWytkxzWCI9JZq1mzrr6DZLYDIcRVW3sVr0cAIJeIFus8CCwQzM2UOiHm0O5qWmsU_8DrT7iBqHYzbqFGULnKrOrolM/s1600-h/Allen's+graduation+5.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349488854995212210" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 205px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwrWZyWSKskptN8dojRXZ1OV91II-5Tykhj8WobEQYL_YtkOPHrWytkxzWCI9JZq1mzrr6DZLYDIcRVW3sVr0cAIJeIFus8CCwQzM2UOiHm0O5qWmsU_8DrT7iBqHYzbqFGULnKrOrolM/s320/Allen's+graduation+5.jpg" border="0" /></a>And commencement is so well named; it IS the beginning of the rest of these young people's lives. There were 46 graduates (out of over 200 for the past year) who walked the stage. While any form of academic graduation is important, I think this ceremony really was special. All the students who enroll in the GED program have been through some tough times in regular school, and their courage and tenacity to take this step is really something I admire. Allen enrolled and successfully earned his GED in 3 weeks! His instructors said that he was one of the fastest students they've had! And he was labeled a poor student in public school. While I was a public school teacher (decades ago) and I support public schools, the way school funders (government and public alike) consider the lack of value of the school system is obvious in the funding they allocate (or willingly pay via taxes) to the schools. And while throwing money at something doesn't always guarantee improvement or success, it will help. And when our schools have more funding, they can reduce the number of students in each classroom, and give the students the individual attention they need. *sigh* Don't get me started!<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBd4PGyLgZ1fLGguPcPMwD0k-W86vJ8JXvq8Uf1H747yo-uvymZ5qUbvRbKIhefhQ6t2xzpm3KnZwrwV0lFBlO1CbXWoWy_bw-L0nSYuUaWTWHjnyjXtFTe_XCstt4FHBVa9dqjQn5thk/s1600-h/Allen's+graduation+6.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349489044177177858" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 198px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBd4PGyLgZ1fLGguPcPMwD0k-W86vJ8JXvq8Uf1H747yo-uvymZ5qUbvRbKIhefhQ6t2xzpm3KnZwrwV0lFBlO1CbXWoWy_bw-L0nSYuUaWTWHjnyjXtFTe_XCstt4FHBVa9dqjQn5thk/s320/Allen's+graduation+6.jpg" border="0" /></a>So we are really proud of Allen for deciding he was going to earn his GED in record time, and then doing it!<br /><br /><br /><br /><div>The most impressive part of the ceremony last night, however, wasn't the keynote speaker or the College speakers: it was when three of the class' graduates spoke about their experience and desire to enroll and complete the GED course of study and testing. Those stories brought tears to my eyes. All of them said how much they appreciated the encouragement and support they received from their parents and the course instructors. Two of the graduates are mothers (one of a 2 month old and one of a 5 year old) and being parents also spurred them on to accomplish this goal in order to be a better role model for their children. That's what responsible parents do: they try their best for their children. </div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhWAPx-AwSFqy_Czah1aj7NSN6-jiev8VDsA3aaz3_ySas5DwDCfPD-ONB9gOKNBLGhqQUW0OB3V6Alu7xl6QVZTwLQBsN8zF3XQ294WxyxV6IrYVXpAnvcuxGopGTK2FSZghoyO6YnVk/s1600-h/Allen's+graduation+2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349489588916348962" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 257px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhWAPx-AwSFqy_Czah1aj7NSN6-jiev8VDsA3aaz3_ySas5DwDCfPD-ONB9gOKNBLGhqQUW0OB3V6Alu7xl6QVZTwLQBsN8zF3XQ294WxyxV6IrYVXpAnvcuxGopGTK2FSZghoyO6YnVk/s320/Allen's+graduation+2.jpg" border="0" /></a>I watched all the graduates who walked the stage last night, and felt pride for each of them. I'm sure some of them are the first in their family to graduate from high school. There are over 15,000 adults in our county who do not have their high school diploma. Hard to believe nowadays, but it's true. </div><br /><br /><div>I love the bumper sticker: "Think education is expensive? Try ignorance!"</div><br /><br /><div>Allen wants to go on to community college, and I hope he does. He has a couple of goals he has set for himself to complete before he enrolls in a program. And his parents will be encouraging and supporting him.</div><br /><br /><div>Here's a toast to all of us who have achieved a goal!</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>Peace,</div><div>Kate</div></div></div></div></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07675007358159204799noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807549661712468460.post-68800752654357665032009-06-14T11:27:00.009-04:002009-06-21T16:35:24.626-04:00Jellyfish and The Light of Forgiveness<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj32yiIwMXQz9Va_rE9nA6w2s3trr6wm1Ty45YOMcW5cncp-ZfZ6BA2k7nfTqlwNzZoKpOi9kAZFGNoOruOrF6N3_VG59oZUvmrqPbWzbTFi1vUgjK_c65gegLQbSHzft0OBzAsilptXhQ/s1600-h/jellyfish+05.09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347206533796032434" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 229px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj32yiIwMXQz9Va_rE9nA6w2s3trr6wm1Ty45YOMcW5cncp-ZfZ6BA2k7nfTqlwNzZoKpOi9kAZFGNoOruOrF6N3_VG59oZUvmrqPbWzbTFi1vUgjK_c65gegLQbSHzft0OBzAsilptXhQ/s320/jellyfish+05.09.jpg" border="0" /></a>This phenomenal crop circle appeared recently in England. Spectacular, isn't it?<br /><br />What makes it even more interesting to me is that I had just seen <em><strong>Seven Pounds</strong></em> with Will Smith a week before receiving notification of the appearance of this crop circle. I'd not seen <strong><em>Seven Pounds</em></strong> before, and I really respect the roles that Will chooses (no, we're not on first-name basis, but he seems like such a regular, family oriented guy... someone you could have a beer with off-screen, you know?), so I wanted to be sure to see it when it came on cable.<br /><br />What a powerful movie! I knew that <strong><em>Seven Pounds</em></strong> had to do with paying debts, and when I looked up the reference to that, it was old "Willie the Shake" who made it famous: <em>it comes from Shakespeare's "The Merchant of Venice", where a wager is set and the debt to be paid if unfulfilled will result in '7 pounds of flesh' being taken. Its literal meaning these days is that no circumstances will prevent the debt from being repaid, whether it results in devastating circumstances, or even loss of life. </em><br /><em></em><br />Will's character, Ben, has -- by a momentary, careless mistake -- lost what he loves most -- his wife -- as well as causes the death of six others. He has a "seven pounds of flesh" debt to repay, and does this by literally giving of himself to those who are in dire need of it. Ben is intense and urgent and driven by inner demons and flashbacks. One of these flashbacks is as a young boy when his father took him to the aquarium and the two of them watched ghostly and graceful jellyfish which his father told him are the most poisonous animals on earth. Ben gets one as a pet and keeps it in a cylindrical tank in his room. I took it as a reminder of happier times with his dad, before the gravity of adulthood took over. The jellyfish crop circle looks exactly like that jellyfish!<br /><br />So the story (I won't tell the ending) is about mistakes made and debts paid. Underlying all of this heavy drama is the undercurrent of the need for forgiveness. Ben needs to forgive himself for a foolish yet fatal mistake. The movie haunted me for a few days (and still does, I guess) and I can't help but wonder how often each of us needs to practice that forgiveness... of ourselves and others. How often do those inner demons keep us from seeing clearly the need to forgive? Those dark demons are intent only on making us feel empty, worthless, evil. While the Light shows us that we are spiritual beings having a human experience, loved beyond measure by Spirit, and are constantly trying to do our best in any given moment to become closer to our Divine Self. While those demons torment, the Light nurtures. Why is forgiveness so hard for us? And while we may forgive others, why can't we forgive ourselves?<br /><br />I am wading through the bitter disappointment of our 16 year old daughter Paige leaving home for the second time in a month. In our last exchange, she told me of wounds I had caused her when she was little. I apologized for my behavior... and now we both are tormented by those memories and wounds. Neither of us has forgiven me, not me nor her. Now her absence echoes like a drop of water in a hollow cave. Paige has had her own self-destructive behaviors over the past few years -- which have grown in magnitude -- which have made it hard to have her at home. So she needs to learn some lessons on her own, but I worry about her immaturity and lack of judgment and foresight in keeping herself safe. I pray for her safety. And for both of us to forgive, ourselves and each other.<br /><br />I hope you find forgiveness in your day today.<br /><br />Peace,<br />KateKatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07675007358159204799noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807549661712468460.post-35830340921832307542009-06-05T18:56:00.021-04:002009-06-05T21:23:03.505-04:00Planting and Nurturing a Garden<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibVt6lvFVBjGMJ2Dtti6EQajI7fax4U2ht_hftX9YNaF8en2_ilmNDRDrNdsGumcTm8_kweQG7IrJQxOytmCVaGVkivz0zXBlLwMo0YdX5HikR__HKHAMnctQKtV1cWj-l4cbbKq2jRNg/s1600-h/4+circles,+4+crescents,+4+swirls+06.09+copy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343998377772025010" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 282px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 203px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibVt6lvFVBjGMJ2Dtti6EQajI7fax4U2ht_hftX9YNaF8en2_ilmNDRDrNdsGumcTm8_kweQG7IrJQxOytmCVaGVkivz0zXBlLwMo0YdX5HikR__HKHAMnctQKtV1cWj-l4cbbKq2jRNg/s320/4+circles,+4+crescents,+4+swirls+06.09+copy.jpg" border="0" /></a>I have been getting to know Sherry Rambin, a nurse administrator by day and a <a href="http://sherryrambin.com/">photographer </a>by heart, in Asheville. What an adventure! Sherry loves life and photographing it, and her joy is contagious.<br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div></div><div></div><div>The other evening, she and I discussed the various roles of a <strong>Gardener</strong>, comparing them to the types of people one meets. </div><div><br /></div><div>There's the <strong>Cultivator</strong>, the person who prepares the ground for planting. I've met several Cultivators over the past few years, especially in the non-profit area. Savie Underhill is in her upper 80s and now living in Boston near her daughter. During her career days, she lived around the world with her ambassadorial <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhthoBCnv7wl0wKjUQU4bBUIk31JpUr_QG_R8xut6ft-4SXF0LyRf0oziaDN-WpMMjdaeS7nZOczdWMKZiEtEFCVi3la1Si7Yqz4XYauKJvInvw0U3IIO4_9-rzfFMLvXI3v2gb6AnCIlU/s1600-h/preparing+the+garden.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343999514497768354" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhthoBCnv7wl0wKjUQU4bBUIk31JpUr_QG_R8xut6ft-4SXF0LyRf0oziaDN-WpMMjdaeS7nZOczdWMKZiEtEFCVi3la1Si7Yqz4XYauKJvInvw0U3IIO4_9-rzfFMLvXI3v2gb6AnCIlU/s200/preparing+the+garden.jpg" border="0" /></a>husband, Francis (she also worked with Eleanor Roosevelt, one of my "sheroes"!). Francis and Savie would move to a country, and when Francis would head for the embassy to do government work, Savie would head into the streets to see what the <em>people</em> needed. Then she tilled the soil to help make it grow into reality. When they first moved to <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSMkwpg5Xd9kS6rYPRL54f_Jvq_-BE8TJ-oCaWGAHtAHszn57-dSmuTVvE6OryYNS3JSQLMaP3JWolToPpA4mu8zEZcKZB7jVJHoFALpv-OifR-S_m5CbFfC1wvWq0WOUyR-sx6pszDEc/s1600-h/tilled+field.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343998753147184674" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 262px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 175px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSMkwpg5Xd9kS6rYPRL54f_Jvq_-BE8TJ-oCaWGAHtAHszn57-dSmuTVvE6OryYNS3JSQLMaP3JWolToPpA4mu8zEZcKZB7jVJHoFALpv-OifR-S_m5CbFfC1wvWq0WOUyR-sx6pszDEc/s320/tilled+field.jpg" border="0" /></a>the Hendersonville area, she -- with another Cultivator, Fran Schneider -- prepared the soil for the Dispute Settlement Center, the non-profit organization I proudly represented for 6 years which offers alternative dispute settlement processes and education to our community. Twenty-five years later, there have been <strong>lots</strong> of people who have experienced transformative mediation and how to have a respectful conversation with another around a contentious issue, thanks to these two women. (I want to be like them when I grow up!)<br /></div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguzXQbuUON7R3eGKLqdXaPtRu18wBlRXMR5q9ObKTBcBqNV2yG8vQYsztQOTxU-nzmqLif67ehXJgOkgT1vsxFtlGrpylUhLmEZpMJc2Fekq5I-cMQGCGriECh8MXq4i_24O96Uv5J3DA/s1600-h/planting_seed_78152758_std.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343999813915616850" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 160px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguzXQbuUON7R3eGKLqdXaPtRu18wBlRXMR5q9ObKTBcBqNV2yG8vQYsztQOTxU-nzmqLif67ehXJgOkgT1vsxFtlGrpylUhLmEZpMJc2Fekq5I-cMQGCGriECh8MXq4i_24O96Uv5J3DA/s200/planting_seed_78152758_std.jpg" border="0" /></a>Then there is the <strong>Sower</strong>, the person who intentionally plants each seed in carefully prepared soil so that it will grow into a strong, beautiful, nourishing plant. I have had the privilege of knowing Seed Planters, too. Those people who are passionate about an idea and do what they can to make sure it is planted where it has the most potential for growth.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344000008415821410" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 134px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzOe-Yre-KTvG4kCZYWu1bSCyXfIqyKdJp1utaBpQ49N3o_F1vEB2-dPewwoIWUFce71P02xNidV_zlx3n2oVpierfAWbEQt-OGhfvxsYHziios_dp4uI0Ya8N2-rdPUB6L5SD41SQpL0/s200/watering.jpg" border="0" />And there are the <strong>Waterers</strong>. These are the Nurturers of all things, delicate and strong. They are the ones who nurture newly planted seeds so that they can root deeply and leaf generously in order to successfully grow into strong plants. They also nurture old trees to ensure its continued health and strength.</div><div></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij87LyNNkCYEGKsgTYaegqGFGVCi3jDc1Lmdb8aW7Jm8Um0UyyHeARs9mN6H-VWb9GRDRRLF6suaIwNTowUBvb3BXx6C6fMCFEw5Oy0T8BmekoXNnDkS6_QBCQhlkOpg_rUVS7iqbiM8k/s1600-h/fertilizing.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344000477211644882" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 178px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 159px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij87LyNNkCYEGKsgTYaegqGFGVCi3jDc1Lmdb8aW7Jm8Um0UyyHeARs9mN6H-VWb9GRDRRLF6suaIwNTowUBvb3BXx6C6fMCFEw5Oy0T8BmekoXNnDkS6_QBCQhlkOpg_rUVS7iqbiM8k/s200/fertilizing.jpg" border="0" /></a> Sherry first raised this whole series of roles by referring to me as a <strong>Fertilizer</strong> (<em>no</em>, not full of manure -- although some folks might say so! -- but instead one who fertilizes the plant). I love this analogy, because my heart's work is about building community (in addition to my art, which is my heART's work...). For someone to see me as a catalyst for positive growth and change is very exciting to me!<br /></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>There are also the <strong>Weeders</strong>, those who lovingly go through the garden, thinning the seedlings and removing what is detrimental to the good of the whole. I once read that weeds are just plants that are growing where you don't want them to be.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPwMcGIxI06OGCsFrRhw-6bBXWJccSYfntmQoPMEPR2WSPz-gY_sxYhQWrEkLl_i8xxWuUQyyAZcAIZpQZ1RE_FOi69gmsDrC2G8nAKbyWt73tr1HqFsJXSY2VqEhxcORGE-oXGiQ87ak/s1600-h/thinning.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344001012615942914" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 163px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 177px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPwMcGIxI06OGCsFrRhw-6bBXWJccSYfntmQoPMEPR2WSPz-gY_sxYhQWrEkLl_i8xxWuUQyyAZcAIZpQZ1RE_FOi69gmsDrC2G8nAKbyWt73tr1HqFsJXSY2VqEhxcORGE-oXGiQ87ak/s200/thinning.jpg" border="0" /></a> And in every community, we need Weeders, people who intentionally work to keep the garden<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuMqce5OmTa7hBOWThyxASRvjGyUdEQ62zxolUdTfqmckyMdGyzfq2dJEyAUqSXIP4Gw17ZwfLhAdzUhgpbOxtm-dE8wLDMWsnLWJ1V1cwikgZ-aKwCH-LOvv2oDrHbkAqAyPV0edzhS0/s1600-h/weeding.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344000673580141330" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuMqce5OmTa7hBOWThyxASRvjGyUdEQ62zxolUdTfqmckyMdGyzfq2dJEyAUqSXIP4Gw17ZwfLhAdzUhgpbOxtm-dE8wLDMWsnLWJ1V1cwikgZ-aKwCH-LOvv2oDrHbkAqAyPV0edzhS0/s200/weeding.jpg" border="0" /></a> healthy and thriving without unwanted weeds and pests causing damage to it. There are some non-profits in our area which are not receiving the funding that they previously have -- which is sad, indeed -- but they may not be as effective as others in providing the services that are needed now (more than ever). In this respect, funders (individuals <em>and</em> groups) are the Weeders, deciding who to support in their missions during these lean times. (That is all of us, folks!)<br /></div><div>And then there are the <strong>Reapers</strong>, the ones who harvest the fruits of the garden to nurture others. T<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy3YMK4r7o4MDdfyT8SV-WvNLiP15A1fAb8KzBUG3ZNDMZ9uvQ73YkQ19mll1dCLEKh7HChb_0nSoYSeYq0kUApP7s-jEKDE0xXaHUMGncI4lHZ1VPuXTwiwuDkWgsa7Qw51t32vIlS3o/s1600-h/harvesting%25204.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344001016311530770" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 134px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy3YMK4r7o4MDdfyT8SV-WvNLiP15A1fAb8KzBUG3ZNDMZ9uvQ73YkQ19mll1dCLEKh7HChb_0nSoYSeYq0kUApP7s-jEKDE0xXaHUMGncI4lHZ1VPuXTwiwuDkWgsa7Qw51t32vIlS3o/s200/harvesting%25204.jpg" border="0" /></a>his is true for edible fruits and veggies and herbs as well as non-edible (at least to us) flowers that feed our senses while providing sustenance and nectar to butterflies, bees, hummingbirds, and others. I think of our local Council on Aging non-profit and their corps of volunteers who provide transportation for their Meals on Wheels program. Every day, nutritious food is prepared by the COA and volunteers pick up their clients' meals and deliver them to their door. Often, volunteers are the Reapers who offer the wealth of the harvest to clients. Most of our mediations at the DSC were provided by volunteers, who found great satisfaction in providing a safe place for folks to work through a conflict. Where would we be without Red Cross volunteers? Or Humane Society volunteers? Or Literacy tutors? Freely giving a part of yourself is a reward in and of itself. </div><div><br /></div><div>And of course, none of these roles is exclusive of the others. Often, we find ourselves with a passionate project we want to create, plant, nuture, and harvest. Each of us -- whether it's as a parent, as an artist, in a professional role, or as a friend -- can fulfill each of these tasks. But I do believe that we each have a tendency to lean naturally to one particular role.</div><div><br /></div><div>Which is your favorite role? Are you nurturing that in yourself?</div><div></div><div><blockquote><p>Don't ask what the world needs.<br />Ask yourself what makes you come alive<br />And then go do that.<br />Because what the world needs<br />Is people who have come<br />alive.<br />-- Harold Thurman Whitman </p></blockquote></div><div>I hope you have the opportunity to fulfill your most passionate gardening role today!</div><div><br /></div><div>Peace,</div><div>Kate</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07675007358159204799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807549661712468460.post-84242667548512174962009-05-31T13:47:00.009-04:002009-05-31T14:47:51.901-04:00Dirt Therapy<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDqcXcmOVouvf7kYKeymVu1ZAEN1dkR6M1ulNS1mrRTb8F-_naakfdHYRu5V4B3WyYk9VAKZ5ITuai_cH-UwxhGIzcMhLdu8TbkhrrbU8BSp0SrGl6rce-TFeLLxABb8D2-Y7tYhz9_Ho/s1600-h/windmill+hill+yin-yang%2B+-5.09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342051271456352738" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 257px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 180px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDqcXcmOVouvf7kYKeymVu1ZAEN1dkR6M1ulNS1mrRTb8F-_naakfdHYRu5V4B3WyYk9VAKZ5ITuai_cH-UwxhGIzcMhLdu8TbkhrrbU8BSp0SrGl6rce-TFeLLxABb8D2-Y7tYhz9_Ho/s320/windmill+hill+yin-yang%2B+-5.09.jpg" border="0" /></a>Yesterday, I spent almost all day trimming potted plants on our back deck and planting herbs in pots and in our south-facing herb bed. Mmmmm... the delicious scents that swirled around me all day! The honeysuckle vines are rampant in our backyard (I am a gardener of the Romantic persuasion) and their rich, scents seduced me all day long. It's like music for your nose.<br /><div><div><br /><div>By the way, this <a href="http://www.cropcircleconnector.com/interface2005.htm">crop circle </a>just appeared this past week in England. It makes me think of music and how interconnected and intertwined all our spheres and links are. It is in a young field of barley and is the 15th one reported this season. To me, it holds the central symbol of the sun as well as sylized yin-yang symbols on either side connected by lines and circles to create a repeating loop of energy. Isn't it exquisitely beautiful?!?<br /></div><br /><div><div><div>(Back to North Carolina...)<br /></div><div>We also have ligustrum shrubs blooming now<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg86AgoA5fFPjCUU6oQifucuAFN8d6YoBZplqp2ZJn5K-RzCFcTDe90EkVxrWoA0EBrzXQpSp2hnXwWBFoFXZkFHZ5AH6p5VmiCQEWk5jwaX9kBcriWFisGA5X8iEejWQ3uzEOBSYxQkWI/s1600-h/Ligustrum_ovalifolium.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342052292783522546" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg86AgoA5fFPjCUU6oQifucuAFN8d6YoBZplqp2ZJn5K-RzCFcTDe90EkVxrWoA0EBrzXQpSp2hnXwWBFoFXZkFHZ5AH6p5VmiCQEWk5jwaX9kBcriWFisGA5X8iEejWQ3uzEOBSYxQkWI/s200/Ligustrum_ovalifolium.jpg" border="0" /></a>, with their cone-shape clusters of small white blossoms that have a fresh scent much greater than the blooms promise. I remember as a little girl we had a hedge of ligustrum along one side of our yard and my dad had pruned them so that they looked like one big long bush. Well, inside those branches were cubbies between the trunks of the bushes, a perfect place for me to crawl in, curl up on the cool dirt, and watch the world from between the leaves. This was in summer when the blooms were burgeoning, so whenever I smell that fresh scent, I flash back to hiding from the world surrounded by green smells and the soft buzzing of busy bees.<br /></div><br /><div>(Sometimes I still want to do this, you understand. Instead, though, I just sit outside and sniff after days gone by.) </div><br /><div>The butterflies were enraptured with the blossoms, too. One kept fluttering its wings as it sucked nectar from honeysuckle blossoms. I'm sure it was so she would stay where she needed to be, but it sure looked like she was trembling with excitement about all the sweetness around her!<br /></div><br /><div>The herbs <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFHi4usToei5ZTi7HcauSFdznZgPchwTKRp4SW4vwGE0xRstrFYSn3TkTjmT2bWrSp46x6i1F8CGkbvnqDjtutT0lov5RV8zyyFBuFtg92NXAdC54gjfG3AkU7e1hz2b017o880j3g570/s1600-h/scented-geranium-734856.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342055491462860146" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 149px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFHi4usToei5ZTi7HcauSFdznZgPchwTKRp4SW4vwGE0xRstrFYSn3TkTjmT2bWrSp46x6i1F8CGkbvnqDjtutT0lov5RV8zyyFBuFtg92NXAdC54gjfG3AkU7e1hz2b017o880j3g570/s200/scented-geranium-734856.jpg" border="0" /></a>I bought last weekend at the Garden Jubilee in downtown Hendersonville <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcwQVe5aDHAEXm-Xafj0BzDQdj9WSgGOe-yxgICKPkOwePhYbpQKeWremE_kNbme9DZZdV5zL2nFdM4MWkBeo5XEi9RotRnrj5mxgxGdBW52ggwMOUXqZ84t5f4RMaGk1gapVI8xNtZQg/s1600-h/ScentedGeranium10.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342058252472249730" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 165px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcwQVe5aDHAEXm-Xafj0BzDQdj9WSgGOe-yxgICKPkOwePhYbpQKeWremE_kNbme9DZZdV5zL2nFdM4MWkBeo5XEi9RotRnrj5mxgxGdBW52ggwMOUXqZ84t5f4RMaGk1gapVI8xNtZQg/s200/ScentedGeranium10.jpg" border="0" /></a>were great to play with, too! I bought several scented geraniums, and potting them was just a cornucopia of lovely smells! If you don't know scented geraniums, you need to check them out (scientific name, <em>Pelargonium</em>, but google <em>scented geranium</em> and you'll find plenty of resources). They are not as showy as the more common geraniums you see everywhere, but those don't smell good at all (in my opinion). The scented ones have a soft fuzz on the leaves which hold oils so that when you rub their leaves, you can smell rose or lemon or an assortment of other relaxing scents. Nature sure knows her purfumes.</div><div><br />I also bought a bay tree which needs to be potted here in the mountains since it gets too cold for them to winter outside (so I understand...). And I potted some basil for pesto (yum! Andrew calls pesto "husband repellent", so I eat it when he's not around...) <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfrf_Q5BQdQWRC1Em9U8LBpRc2tURXYdRocUD39GQETVEswoC2PC5sBx-MnFRKBt57XY3Wl7iymrxiG7Pnp8Qowu9GPhafBy1ibcmtP_R1V0Co2gLJ8sjtOKZTvkETf1sohBQFT9GL_vw/s1600-h/ScentedGeranium10.jpg"></a>My son Allen helped me plant a curry plant, two tarragons, a lemongrass, a thyme, and two big pots of sweet woodruff (check out the recipe for May wine in an earlier post). So now our deck steps are lined with lovely plants that when you brush against them they will send out welcoming scents! And we have new perennials in our herb bed for pickin' and cookin'. The sage planted a couple of springs ago is going nuts, as is the fennel and lavendar, and a couple of varieties of mints. Time for mint tea. Mmmmm...<br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBB4vjbH5GCrQvcZ55JLyB_Yo58uedjpbG33A31G4QuPFjQTlQh3xVaNEkB2snOzZwLktbvtMzLUGCMt5XUCVPSCkL0tG1E7RRpqrsuT0fcY6uLPgtUsrUBI8-mD0S9PDKHElHcyOrf3k/s1600-h/japanese+maple+leaves+and+sky.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342061198223275138" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 134px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBB4vjbH5GCrQvcZ55JLyB_Yo58uedjpbG33A31G4QuPFjQTlQh3xVaNEkB2snOzZwLktbvtMzLUGCMt5XUCVPSCkL0tG1E7RRpqrsuT0fcY6uLPgtUsrUBI8-mD0S9PDKHElHcyOrf3k/s200/japanese+maple+leaves+and+sky.jpg" border="0" /></a>The birds are ecstatic nowadays... there was song all around me yesterday. I laid in the hammock for a while, breathing in the smells, watching the sight of the sun shining through the feathers of outspread songbird wings flying above me from tree to tree; ppssttt-pppssttt-ppsssttt-ing so the birds would come closer to check <em>me</em> out so that I could check <em>them</em> out.<br /></div><br /><br /><div>It's amazing what loud notes can come from such small bodies! If only humankind would sing to claim our territory instead of go to war... wouldn't it be a lovely world?<br /></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizgAb-nvg1CauQ0m5_Qys186YDhKPnMg4PCN8HDh8x_nF5NGIckLU9mdcMrlRNhwBiGi54rhGY0mfoIwd4mM0UWtR4tiEXuwd11OrxDY4ChmxV4iZ62KmjGQzDXqP1F9j8SeN10HtwtcY/s1600-h/garden+sign+1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342061358699647890" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 153px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizgAb-nvg1CauQ0m5_Qys186YDhKPnMg4PCN8HDh8x_nF5NGIckLU9mdcMrlRNhwBiGi54rhGY0mfoIwd4mM0UWtR4tiEXuwd11OrxDY4ChmxV4iZ62KmjGQzDXqP1F9j8SeN10HtwtcY/s200/garden+sign+1.jpg" border="0" /></a>So now our back deck looks lovely and welcoming. (Isn't it wonderful when you accomplish something that's been on your mind?) And last night we ate on the deck, and were joined by a couple of friends so that we sat well into the darkness talking and catching up. The honeysuckle sent out its welcome the entire time. What abundance!</div><br /><div>This weekend is, for me, about getting some of my to do list done: tasks that are constant reminders of what I haven't done yet... like planting herbs, trimming potted plants... and next is de-cluttering and organizing my studio so I can create without distraction (or wondering "Where did I put that....?") I'm halfway there!<br /></div><div>I hope you are having lovely, sensual outdoor experiences with Nature, too!<br /></div><br /><div>Peace,</div><div>Kate</div><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07675007358159204799noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807549661712468460.post-29352748709426989692009-05-29T15:56:00.025-04:002009-05-29T18:29:21.931-04:00A Journal for the Journey<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0_igsTkm0ybZ7EkyJU1eFGggPRvQQRdu0-WTyX4I99cHkQY0Dfe2UxtuMEFE5sK5d9rkzNQE2gmKf-PgMj4itG17dLyvUlw2rYVJdmLKVhdkjEWhX71E0fea07Ir95jkugWrBMjeFeO8/s1600-h/goddess+and+rays+05.09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341370374685765506" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 180px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0_igsTkm0ybZ7EkyJU1eFGggPRvQQRdu0-WTyX4I99cHkQY0Dfe2UxtuMEFE5sK5d9rkzNQE2gmKf-PgMj4itG17dLyvUlw2rYVJdmLKVhdkjEWhX71E0fea07Ir95jkugWrBMjeFeO8/s200/goddess+and+rays+05.09.jpg" border="0" /></a>It's been quite a while since I've posted. I've missed writing, but wanted to wait until I had something to say. So here I am, finally... <div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><br /><div>Yesterday, I attended the 5th Annual Conference for Women offered by <a href="http://mountainbizworks.org/">Mountain Bizworks </a>here in the WNC area. Over 150 women in one room! What a celebration of estrogen! What energy! I met some wonderful women, and ended up sitting at a table that boasted mostly artists (and we made a lot of joyful noise, too!). <strong>Jen Salar</strong> creates handmade invitations through her <a href="http://www.soulsticeinvitations.com/">Soulstice Invitations</a>. She also works at <a href="http://www.randomartsnow.com/">Random Arts</a> (a 3-D artist's den of iniquity!) in Saluda. <strong>Abbie Doyle</strong>, owner of <a href="http://www.mygardenofbeadin.com/">Garden of Beadin </a>(a beader's cornucopia of delights!) here in Hendersonville joined us, as did <strong>Lori Garcia-Hernandez</strong> who owns <a href="http://www.fitnesssoulutions.com/">Fitness SOULutions</a>, a women's fitness center here focusing on the body-mind-spirit connection. <strong>Barbara Stock</strong> is a PMC artist and designer who owns <a href="http://brwm.org/wrensnestpreciousmetaldesigns/">Wren's Nest Precious Metal Designs</a>. All of these women are community builders with amazingly generous spirits. I also met two Asheville artists: <strong>Sherry Rambin </strong>is a gifted <a href="http://www.sherryrambin.com/">photographer </a>with a bright and joyous spirit; and Melissa Clonch, owner/designer of <a href="http://www.giftbasketsbymelissa.com/">Gift Baskets by Melissa</a>, has a quiet, sweet and open presence. And Hendersonville's own <strong>Angela Vaughan</strong> was recognized as the "Entrepreneur of the Year" for all the good work she's done since opening her business, <strong>Fitness Masters</strong>, to support people in "mastering a balanced, healthy lifestyle". You go, Angela! </div><br /><div></div><div>There were so many other wonderful women there, including keynote speakers, BizWorks presenters, and BizWorks "staff/family" members who provide information, support, and encouragement to anyone in their own business (or considering a business of their own). </div><br /><div>One of those "staff/family" members is Susanne Walker-Wilson, wife of Greg Walker-Wilson, who has been the Executive Director of Mountian Bizworks for over 13 years. He is leaving the non-profit so that he and his family (Susanne and their 2 boys) can assume a three-year volunteer assignment with the Mennonite Central Committee in Colombia, South America, a dream they've had for many years. Whew! What courage! </div><br /><div>I was contacted a couple of weeks ago by Melinda Knies, gallery director of <a href="http://www.mtnmade.com/">Mountain Made gallery</a>, the retail shop connected with Mountain Bizworks and who ca<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigoGkvjHeu3dy-TPoKWIwgiMYG0-u8YjXPdROJLEwywME21Oq2JS3ORb8Nr4ZfEiuR56UyDhfsyY6wz6hk5qWSewD5tx0tdrYK48yHIee8Pw0Cx8kRgx1WmbOHzcp7eXRhvrRadwwM-Sc/s1600-h/susanne's+journal+2.jpg"></a>rries my journals. She said the staff of Mountain BizWorks wanted to give Susanne a special thank you gift for all her years as a deeply connected volunteer and heart-centered supporter of the staff. Melinda <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtaByPYOTgRN3SLQ2ym3YF1PFBGviCTItMWxkbam8Lgimip5SXofZFejmaAZ8EgZBPGWf6GnbesiEiiMUNwlJp3rZc9VkTPmilfIWjJxPma6Vx-dzQP0LiTEKIpTwwYNUPCqUsahuk2C0/s1600-h/susanne's+journal+1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341368995941378482" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 132px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 139px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtaByPYOTgRN3SLQ2ym3YF1PFBGviCTItMWxkbam8Lgimip5SXofZFejmaAZ8EgZBPGWf6GnbesiEiiMUNwlJp3rZc9VkTPmilfIWjJxPma6Vx-dzQP0LiTEKIpTwwYNUPCqUsahuk2C0/s200/susanne's+journal+1.jpg" border="0" /></a>asked me if I would create a journal for Susanne. What an honor! YES! (While I'd not met Susanne, I knew Greg and was <em>sure</em> he had great taste in women.) So Melinda sent me some info and gave me the freedom to create a journal for Susanne's journey.</div><br /><div>At the conference yesterday, the staff presented Susanne with an award recognizing all her support through the past 13 years, and gave her the journal. I was so proud when I was asked to stand as the artist of the journal. Creating this journal for someone who is so community-oriented was an honor for me. Susanne and Greg are the folks who walk the talk... who promote positive change in their neighborhood and in the world. </div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIpgyRR580i-w2UJJ_dz0nITENM_SBCWgrsOrCjdJvPIb-8fPi230REiRwfsv7QV9gerFN8TtWdufhi-Wm69fQ_pzQlxr_ui3lkEXT1RZVEPjiUzzZRCZlJLy1p3Kv6hq0-1y_LqTXWAk/s1600-h/susanne's+journal+4.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341372005996778946" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 183px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIpgyRR580i-w2UJJ_dz0nITENM_SBCWgrsOrCjdJvPIb-8fPi230REiRwfsv7QV9gerFN8TtWdufhi-Wm69fQ_pzQlxr_ui3lkEXT1RZVEPjiUzzZRCZlJLy1p3Kv6hq0-1y_LqTXWAk/s320/susanne's+journal+4.jpg" border="0" /></a>The process of creating it was -- as always -- a magical one for me. I sat still and listened to the Muse and let my fingers do the walking over my various leathers, papers, and books. The<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341369008008946098" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 131px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 118px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjagschC0n2FfrmD4ZSgQGhfvv7Kap0RZnysbg7DQ8yLV8T3NtOcaL3FChlC3IRkB6EqSRuseYAkuQcrOrvur-fvxR_LY9-F6DkrCjp9ml-YrQ05QLV9qUeJCrvNXd8ZV-k-U25VWJyBlc/s200/susanne's+journal+3.jpg" border="0" /> process is one of listening and -- literally -- feeling my way through the creation. I'm thankful I have a stash of possibilities because the end result was nothing like I had originally thought it would be. That's the difference between "thinking" and "intuiting": one makes sense, the other touches deeply. Each signature I sewed was twice knotted, and each knot holds blessings for Susanne as she begins this new chapter of her life. </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIjzfQTHzL_uV7vqFIvy9esKyNk7mSuI3b-Y60Il3lj76_Wek55QqJ6JY51fv3RPL0xgq9COhzbmRmHcUR063PPw0CyChZMS60256B-CsLMKsYAsBm0jNIbBEJmXkYiFIAcdy89Kw__n0/s1600-h/susanne's+journal+5.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341370031269644898" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 133px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIjzfQTHzL_uV7vqFIvy9esKyNk7mSuI3b-Y60Il3lj76_Wek55QqJ6JY51fv3RPL0xgq9COhzbmRmHcUR063PPw0CyChZMS60256B-CsLMKsYAsBm0jNIbBEJmXkYiFIAcdy89Kw__n0/s200/susanne's+journal+5.jpg" border="0" /></a>The green leather wrap cover is soft but strong. Green symbolizes growth to me, as do seeds which is why I chose the inside<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh_ZTjzJe0TKcQw-gRSzycBYeoKW_8LxXGyOYLPjjyrOtomIKaadoMVjzkmCoFcKWrBY8Mq8JYRnhr04Ra9BzTKDGv7VznhRcqpJQZZ4k9LXGkAc0gKFXM5RZ5Xu54Wa5oGzRssAVbqTE/s1600-h/susanne's+journal+2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341369005086411634" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 128px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 131px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh_ZTjzJe0TKcQw-gRSzycBYeoKW_8LxXGyOYLPjjyrOtomIKaadoMVjzkmCoFcKWrBY8Mq8JYRnhr04Ra9BzTKDGv7VznhRcqpJQZZ4k9LXGkAc0gKFXM5RZ5Xu54Wa5oGzRssAVbqTE/s200/susanne's+journal+2.jpg" border="0" /></a> wrap paper for this journal. I gleaned the endpapers that line the leather from a 1963 oversized Reader's Digest World Atlas; the inside front cover focuses on Colombia. Four dividers throughout the pages are made from other maps from the same book and are folded to create pockets where Susanne can insert pictures, notes, etc. The clasp is an antique mother-of-pearl buckle, a circle that connects to the ocean as well as the mothering and nurturing that Susanne is committed to. The inside back cover holds a small booklet where Mountain Bizworks staff members could write their own notes for Susanne to keep with the journal.</div><br /><div>After she received the journal, I had the opportunity to meet Sus<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfN083wrTJbXC_UjmV85jtEtz2R3YBL5_xQlYsBK2wsL0XXYuP75k3bNHmcgOo1k-cgtBkEl8xtBD0g6cNNifnqogGS92rTfj7mQrDySY2bYh-AknCLwHgNlViUuD4kPw-mBSWKCPb7PM/s1600-h/susanne's+journal+8.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341369014212283586" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 131px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 103px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfN083wrTJbXC_UjmV85jtEtz2R3YBL5_xQlYsBK2wsL0XXYuP75k3bNHmcgOo1k-cgtBkEl8xtBD0g6cNNifnqogGS92rTfj7mQrDySY2bYh-AknCLwHgNlViUuD4kPw-mBSWKCPb7PM/s200/susanne's+journal+8.jpg" border="0" /></a>anne, and was so struck by her de<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh8_RgBokz1MRF6RNSot2nahKMrWrROT_FeT3uVFChb4sGJbWCCsr0pDTfELAkNtliX9lP1qybs3L5r84p6cYOsDtoGsKsLEqw_YT19Y5w5X1FAd1CH0KGRwYkI5xFQ8EfhPlKi21CLYo/s1600-h/susanne's+journal+6.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341370034815868754" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 136px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh8_RgBokz1MRF6RNSot2nahKMrWrROT_FeT3uVFChb4sGJbWCCsr0pDTfELAkNtliX9lP1qybs3L5r84p6cYOsDtoGsKsLEqw_YT19Y5w5X1FAd1CH0KGRwYkI5xFQ8EfhPlKi21CLYo/s200/susanne's+journal+6.jpg" border="0" /></a>pth of spirit and positive intention that it brought tears to my eyes. Now I am even MORE honored than ever to have created something for her to take on this brave journey from the people that she has so intimately affected. I know this clear-eyed intention and integrity will bless the people she and her family come in contact with in their work in Colombia. What courage, to leave all that is familiar and certain and move their family to a culture in upheaval and uncertainty. I truly admire that kind of commitment and dedication to peacemaking and community-building!</div><br /><div>Whether it is in our homes, in our neighborhoods, in our work, or in our world, we all are on missions -- aware or unawares. I hope your days are filled with community and peace-building opportunities.</div><br /><div>Peace,</div><div>Kate</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07675007358159204799noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807549661712468460.post-16495131276670993262009-05-06T14:43:00.013-04:002009-05-06T15:26:27.306-04:00"Treasures Recovered"<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSpPsFRrs-gPVtzR_78LtiVeL8ka5e14tE1DAQWzOHX-Rzs-ZEb0Fqcbbihrj6XIMFAX2MpORCIbMrsXkcy8kYbPuStBBfU_unVtyqRx586AvUSdiATCD_6_U0-7BQmMEdOFwxfNwe-mM/s1600-h/somerton+knot+circle.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332789016989291074" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 148px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSpPsFRrs-gPVtzR_78LtiVeL8ka5e14tE1DAQWzOHX-Rzs-ZEb0Fqcbbihrj6XIMFAX2MpORCIbMrsXkcy8kYbPuStBBfU_unVtyqRx586AvUSdiATCD_6_U0-7BQmMEdOFwxfNwe-mM/s200/somerton+knot+circle.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div><div><div>I've been creating more recycled art for the show beginning this weekend at Hand in Hand. This groups are journals which are in my <em><strong>Treasures Recovered</strong></em> series, where I take evocative covers from old books which have been thrown away or tossed aside and reinvent them as journals. </div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJmbvFz5R_vIxLV2UIBDPgVUWgVt37Ubu5wnrU7IY2WTPOFWuTI2ukodiEZjJDVKivx1CCsiX2prAcRNrEiHFUF9KR4ssv8g3w7K4WnRzDi6AURIB90gPXzFy9J6ECaOokCQnUBkqh0n4/s1600-h/putting+pieces+together+2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332792749881164610" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJmbvFz5R_vIxLV2UIBDPgVUWgVt37Ubu5wnrU7IY2WTPOFWuTI2ukodiEZjJDVKivx1CCsiX2prAcRNrEiHFUF9KR4ssv8g3w7K4WnRzDi6AURIB90gPXzFy9J6ECaOokCQnUBkqh0n4/s200/putting+pieces+together+2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><em>Putting All the Pieces Together</em> recycles a beautiful vintage photo album cover boasting a mosaic of intricate, colored wood inlay. I estimate this cover was created in the early 1900s. </div><div><br /><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheBdB3yjSuaaNE50IWbRYwLTXJURFSu-t5AkZGmMqhJi-Ew1AAIXMhDI4Mt4qel0nz_PUtohAQw7-RQDjLVHLntrxZ0uwYigfqnONzBb73PB44zOz0H14iWxFotUL2sKH8ypTNS82Fx5A/s1600-h/putting+pieces+together+5.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332791742215494226" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 143px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 152px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheBdB3yjSuaaNE50IWbRYwLTXJURFSu-t5AkZGmMqhJi-Ew1AAIXMhDI4Mt4qel0nz_PUtohAQw7-RQDjLVHLntrxZ0uwYigfqnONzBb73PB44zOz0H14iWxFotUL2sKH8ypTNS82Fx5A/s200/putting+pieces+together+5.jpg" border="0" /></a>Green leather reinforces the journal spine. The inside end papers remind me of the trees that form the basis of this book. </div></div><div> </div><div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvQG7hjBcwJFOaJYt8r-NzpQSDsc5L-Vd99jvym3WxwPKTLAgWs7XkuBcECa8RZprXzUNWhWGRqPAE6sbVMsHmwo6856KoWnOCcw1z_MAnjZSyE33CejhVq9-zR5wS8Q2jZZ64DU7Qntc/s1600-h/putting+pieces+together+6.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332793507154575058" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 129px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvQG7hjBcwJFOaJYt8r-NzpQSDsc5L-Vd99jvym3WxwPKTLAgWs7XkuBcECa8RZprXzUNWhWGRqPAE6sbVMsHmwo6856KoWnOCcw1z_MAnjZSyE33CejhVq9-zR5wS8Q2jZZ64DU7Qntc/s200/putting+pieces+together+6.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div>Writing pages are from another vintage photo album, cut to size. Eleven signatures of four pages each offer 88 pages (front and back) for writing. Scraps from the leaf end paper keep the signatures <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_12qrshZxaOHmzymPwoT89YB-S7TPzJqxd39A9rvH6lUdbAXkM8nmWXAOXJtn7PVoGw3qF5NdyRfKeaJWYx8AZHo6MXfn30lHbNIEL_pa4cTKp3aSK0AThY9nLh3GOwZka1U0wi01qpc/s1600-h/putting+pieces+together+4.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332793351610677970" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 148px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 130px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_12qrshZxaOHmzymPwoT89YB-S7TPzJqxd39A9rvH6lUdbAXkM8nmWXAOXJtn7PVoGw3qF5NdyRfKeaJWYx8AZHo6MXfn30lHbNIEL_pa4cTKp3aSK0AThY9nLh3GOwZka1U0wi01qpc/s200/putting+pieces+together+4.jpg" border="0" /></a>stable since there is no stitching used in the binding <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3qJvMKL-Il-rHZwSxvBu0vYpuqgilLBzVzXNf5d8ssUfpLaUq4SOD35P3j9-L6sOd-dDydSI3DNzyjWD8coxnsrURtwZGbUoREQNPDRQ-_joLgeUWuiQqSbhNZhn2LKRkCQZ65iH9Lik/s1600-h/putting+pieces+together+4.jpg"></a>(the perforation of the pages is too delicate to sew through).</div><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> </div><div><em><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjap__scgl1jGKW-_z8DeHew1sGosObgLPRzZg3f1NVyuzACswmFInWUMc_9rv8muJ3iYRzE0pY5JjUoc-QQmSuuUzjSngd-w_NcYmV0gi4ZRVRQkVED0DY2n1tJ3i_a6kz7mP2K78mEes/s1600-h/Storyteller+1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332791743010562866" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 152px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjap__scgl1jGKW-_z8DeHew1sGosObgLPRzZg3f1NVyuzACswmFInWUMc_9rv8muJ3iYRzE0pY5JjUoc-QQmSuuUzjSngd-w_NcYmV0gi4ZRVRQkVED0DY2n1tJ3i_a6kz7mP2K78mEes/s200/Storyteller+1.jpg" border="0" /></a>The Storyteller</em> journal utilizes a cover from a book series written about the Old Testament. While it looks like a prophet on the cover, I have entitled this “The Storyteller”, because that’s what they were. And we have more storytellers today than prophets.<br /><br />I added a new red leather spine to complement the old leather on the covers. To me, the red symbolizes the passion with which storytellers tell their tales. The end papers are wonderful, fibrous papers from around the world. Seven signatures of seven pages each create 196 pages (front and back).<br /><br /></div><div><br /> </div><div><br /><em><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQYjzI4DAOHXmbGqffkfTBJ7gP6aFpaoXxHyVTtkOgtdcgDdz61LAOISKHDL_B33mFAd_SCKJ-UqmvEJRXJ3ZQxEGC9YDSp6RTn7w98AEuyczKEBfbw2hsOYbeoUaQYrer6v09V7oAR88/s1600-h/nancy+drew+1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332791736662478226" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQYjzI4DAOHXmbGqffkfTBJ7gP6aFpaoXxHyVTtkOgtdcgDdz61LAOISKHDL_B33mFAd_SCKJ-UqmvEJRXJ3ZQxEGC9YDSp6RTn7w98AEuyczKEBfbw2hsOYbeoUaQYrer6v09V7oAR88/s200/nancy+drew+1.jpg" border="0" /></a>The Secret of the Old Clock</em> (originally published in 1959) was the first book written in the legendary Nancy Drew mystery series. How many of us young girls of the 60's dreamed of being Nancy Drew? Her bravery, her cleverness and intelligence… her <em>perfect hair</em>, her <strong><em>freedom</em></strong>!<br /><br />Today, how many of us wonder about the secrets of time? Where did it go? What is the secret of time, and how do we best enjoy it?<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmsf98JcHZx18BpnN7rJfBMTseq44neTalZBako_fnFz0OFN8bhL9yvfPtLyGSf85YYd-TzOqDDqtimFXOs8a0YwPQFGS80n9rvfEYzQZGPvfEsyD-r8qjgxuQfzHIPWdbjWpn6VhVp2w/s1600-h/nancy+drew+3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332790955602928418" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 171px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 127px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmsf98JcHZx18BpnN7rJfBMTseq44neTalZBako_fnFz0OFN8bhL9yvfPtLyGSf85YYd-TzOqDDqtimFXOs8a0YwPQFGS80n9rvfEYzQZGPvfEsyD-r8qjgxuQfzHIPWdbjWpn6VhVp2w/s200/nancy+drew+3.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I have embedded in the cover a vintage paper-covered pocket watch face with unusual “hands”, covered and protected by a misty vintage pocket watch crystal. The end papers inside are fabric scraps recycled into paper. Six signatures of six pages each offer 144 pages (front and back) for someone to tell of their life and times.</div><div><br /> </div><div>I'm on a roll! But I've got to get these to the gallery this afternoon, so I'll have to postpone making more <strong><em>Treasures Recovered</em></strong> until later (but all the ideas are just chattering at me in my head -- uh-oh... there go those voices again! -- I prefer to think of them as the Muses whispering...)<br /><br /></div><div>I hope you are having a creative day.</div><div><br /> </div><div>Peace,</div><div>Kate</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07675007358159204799noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807549661712468460.post-61203390784553399542009-05-05T14:03:00.007-04:002009-05-05T14:26:40.423-04:00Rainy Day and Green Leaves<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguQUIzDA-T6Q-BV_OSkQUa6do_pT-QMKcXEr_bWWJok8xmGwjoXJsumLE-xhRkz2Q_0HTyY6rpNRK0YyqnNQkYCf2c9hKPe6gQlEAmLn8_caMw4p9XHkSqMdi8yn80cncuxqNsK68K5KE/s1600-h/more+circles!.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332404872580788130" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 179px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguQUIzDA-T6Q-BV_OSkQUa6do_pT-QMKcXEr_bWWJok8xmGwjoXJsumLE-xhRkz2Q_0HTyY6rpNRK0YyqnNQkYCf2c9hKPe6gQlEAmLn8_caMw4p9XHkSqMdi8yn80cncuxqNsK68K5KE/s200/more+circles!.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div>I love writing haiku. It forces one to be succinct (and since I love to use words, succinct is a good thing!). Today, the skies are a soft grey (making the new leaves that much greener) and the day reminded me of a haiku I wrote in 2000 while on a Vision Quest:<br /><div><div><strong></strong></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG-ISEB7OZanicJ2BqzcB2MFegODS2TEZ01R12pB6tQyVOkgcd9Ngxuy4k70NKaHEjM5LOOhgu4IARTIPuJ6pjFEvZEoTMH4YYe1B0zIBKImTOATWfTW-WZSTzvMC54hWYZV2vQ05gRaU/s1600-h/hosta+applause.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332405192424886402" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 162px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG-ISEB7OZanicJ2BqzcB2MFegODS2TEZ01R12pB6tQyVOkgcd9Ngxuy4k70NKaHEjM5LOOhgu4IARTIPuJ6pjFEvZEoTMH4YYe1B0zIBKImTOATWfTW-WZSTzvMC54hWYZV2vQ05gRaU/s200/hosta+applause.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><strong>Ovation</strong><br /><br />The rain falls on leaves.<br />The leaves nod in agreement.<br />All applaud Nature.</div><div></div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg49RXT2y4zW3KdBImXXo1z76T-2EBfoD7RnPcRSgUBF0aFDRO3d9G1GFL9bG2ngA97uKfXZJmD60AArapbitWSdnPNs-aHfiJF7n7CWJb0RFhUsOW5KK5FZpgLcK-NFCLdLeqfnwTHu68/s1600-h/spruce+shoots.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332406952748399378" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg49RXT2y4zW3KdBImXXo1z76T-2EBfoD7RnPcRSgUBF0aFDRO3d9G1GFL9bG2ngA97uKfXZJmD60AArapbitWSdnPNs-aHfiJF7n7CWJb0RFhUsOW5KK5FZpgLcK-NFCLdLeqfnwTHu68/s200/spruce+shoots.jpg" border="0" /></a>It was a beautiful morning to take pictures. The green-grey leaves of hostas holding water and the amazing growth of our Colorado Blue Spruce. I love blue spruces; no matter what time of day or what weather, they look like they have silvery moonlight shining on them. They really are magical. This tree is about 8 years old; we planted it after Yule one year (instead of having a cut tree). It took a while to take root, but once it started growing, it has really shot up! (Maybe tha<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinGAI13msle_54JU9NWmsfg2oLo0n8ZeqRJESU7kceBU86YGke-GM_HIhUVOaHuqP-0VihtOdpPnG8eW-24v-qBvKZ1skc9SqnPSwi8byuLT4kRwt3BEL_RGupZ_PE0DUX4XELaVcTzzA/s1600-h/raindrops+on+pine+needles2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332407393912258546" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 177px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinGAI13msle_54JU9NWmsfg2oLo0n8ZeqRJESU7kceBU86YGke-GM_HIhUVOaHuqP-0VihtOdpPnG8eW-24v-qBvKZ1skc9SqnPSwi8byuLT4kRwt3BEL_RGupZ_PE0DUX4XELaVcTzzA/s200/raindrops+on+pine+needles2.jpg" border="0" /></a>t's why new growth is called "shoots" because they really shoot up and out fast!) The volunteer pine tree shows growth, too.<br /><br />I hope you enjoy your own new growth today.<br /></div><div>Peace,</div><div>Kate</div></div></div></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07675007358159204799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807549661712468460.post-25589262708263929642009-05-03T09:12:00.008-04:002009-05-03T09:45:30.564-04:00Recycled Art<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEishYszw5rdEF8IJuf5KL4Lle8_dLLvLfoA99SohPfjyM-rC5tCQBO4rfP_RitKrbCdC_MKxwA4NYs4cPt5m1hyySj8Wjs067TBgoDnabxML7ToOGSZnHmlbhXPvAi7mrKNBQj_00LKD7I/s1600-h/6pointed+star+w+circles.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331588632400518178" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 138px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEishYszw5rdEF8IJuf5KL4Lle8_dLLvLfoA99SohPfjyM-rC5tCQBO4rfP_RitKrbCdC_MKxwA4NYs4cPt5m1hyySj8Wjs067TBgoDnabxML7ToOGSZnHmlbhXPvAi7mrKNBQj_00LKD7I/s200/6pointed+star+w+circles.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.handinhandgallery.com/">Hand in Hand</a>, a local gallery owned by husband and wife team David Voorhees and Molly Sharp (he's a ceramicist, she's a silversmith and jeweler) is hosting an exhibit and sale called <a href="http://www.handinhandgallery.com/ECO-ART.html">"Eco Art: Artists Respond -- Reclaim, Reuse, Recreate". </a>I'm proud to be entering several pieces in it, both jewelry and journals. <div><div><div><div><div><div><br /><br /></div><div>I'm att. photos of the necklaces I made yesterday. </div><div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbKMlwHT503ywPzf8uahfKO5p7kSd2guvgqyRR4HCJGUCK7Xv87AI0cMrdtqqAXaPTlk4vixHtWNNLM_iz2I3k3Z4RiCDyUCCsiOF7ls0ILrgkHw8NUaDEyI1PJIYLxJkcmQgInZdwhkc/s1600-h/a+dance+of+words+1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331588633983964226" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 168px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbKMlwHT503ywPzf8uahfKO5p7kSd2guvgqyRR4HCJGUCK7Xv87AI0cMrdtqqAXaPTlk4vixHtWNNLM_iz2I3k3Z4RiCDyUCCsiOF7ls0ILrgkHw8NUaDEyI1PJIYLxJkcmQgInZdwhkc/s200/a+dance+of+words+1.jpg" border="0" /></a>The first is entitled <em>Dance of Words</em>. I woke up Friday morning with the image in my head of the necklace (what a gift!). However, try as I might, I couldn't find the yellow metal "pencil-holder-thingy", which was <em>very</em> frustrating. Do you remember these? I don't know if they were pencil holders or pencil protectors, but I remember seeing one looooooong ago at my grandparents' home. They are metal with a design on them (probably souveniers from the 40s or so) and it held a pencil that you could slip into the bottom "barrel" part, and the top with an eraser built into the end s<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIOYMKCZRAVcJZdsXm_JmHruPuu_QRplP0xWz0SwIi4ECU8bccBRtOPCDT9Hh60WdttPAWJPxO2EBuYCJs9fzjlIoa7m4Js6n5id-csRzGdU7KHI7AgAKH2Sv1nFGE1oT8MdQsZbHRw74/s1600-h/a+dance+of+words+5.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331588637109106898" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 172px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIOYMKCZRAVcJZdsXm_JmHruPuu_QRplP0xWz0SwIi4ECU8bccBRtOPCDT9Hh60WdttPAWJPxO2EBuYCJs9fzjlIoa7m4Js6n5id-csRzGdU7KHI7AgAKH2Sv1nFGE1oT8MdQsZbHRw74/s200/a+dance+of+words+5.jpg" border="0" /></a>lid on top to protect the point, much like a pen. I bought this yellow top depicting a "natural bridge in VA" in a pile of oddities from Smiley's Flea Market several years ago, but never quite knew what to do with it... until Friday morning... then I couldn't find it! *<em>sigh</em>* The Muse was laughing. Last night, I decided to ask Her to help me find it (and to sleep on it again), and within 5 minutes of looking after waking up Saturday morning, I found it! Hooray!<br /><br /></div><div></div><div>It is composed of old writing instruments. The "pencil-holder-thingy" has a page from a vintage dictionary inserted in it that is folded and rolled, upon which I have written:</div><div><blockquote><p>I love words. I find irresistible their origins, their meanings, their similarities, and their differences, even their appearance. I relish reading and cherish crafting a well-written passage. I especially enjoy playing with words. I am passionate about puns. I want my epitaph to read, "She finally came to her wit's end."<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKw5tOnx160R6qTnDC9w0s_VQAncwCA645HgvhFE5lxJbIIG5p4DD3_LRMYlEwvOvbLcv8raLzjmmMSPe3GE4mLK-yTH0WXz6z56E8VEq9PGpLdbJG0PCQ1u38P9iT9ZOq1E1MoTpWixo/s1600-h/a+dance+of+words+2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331589487947240434" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 180px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKw5tOnx160R6qTnDC9w0s_VQAncwCA645HgvhFE5lxJbIIG5p4DD3_LRMYlEwvOvbLcv8raLzjmmMSPe3GE4mLK-yTH0WXz6z56E8VEq9PGpLdbJG0PCQ1u38P9iT9ZOq1E1MoTpWixo/s200/a+dance+of+words+2.jpg" border="0" /></a></p></blockquote></div><div>There is also an OLD Parker fountain pen red ink cartridge (from my mom), vintage pen nibs, gold vintage faceted crystals from one of my great-aunt Weah's old necklaces (to symbolize the richness of language), red handmade glass beads (to represent passion), words from a vintage dictionary, gold hexagonal vintage chandeliers crystals (with "noun" and "verb" adhered to the back), paper beads rolled from the dictionary pages, glass beads, mother of pearl, amber, and miscellaneous copper chains. I am so pleased with it! </div><div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXzq4CcDZIgEqFdoQmrczvcErW3tJxzzu8cx7YsaZrZv_48mgAiY54LLfQoBX2Buf__Nilp6LIQzg2g_T2DxuW2qKyu90G1QUCs5OikV6FGafv8OUnrLvGg1L4KHM4je6BHHogV1kJf4/s1600-h/window+opens+2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331589479720685138" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 196px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXzq4CcDZIgEqFdoQmrczvcErW3tJxzzu8cx7YsaZrZv_48mgAiY54LLfQoBX2Buf__Nilp6LIQzg2g_T2DxuW2qKyu90G1QUCs5OikV6FGafv8OUnrLvGg1L4KHM4je6BHHogV1kJf4/s200/window+opens+2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOF6u9QtdJSFzRaSbPe2kHm6wvcGRVlOns5sR9mgSBrKS5laqtRrB7YLtZvYbh0NzksAF2k7o78VW-k6CeUshI-u4CKsJ5COfQcv2CwpQE1YQZpHel1cgz1yzblkglxOdKElIUTop1Q24/s1600-h/window+opens+1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331588639944550306" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 121px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOF6u9QtdJSFzRaSbPe2kHm6wvcGRVlOns5sR9mgSBrKS5laqtRrB7YLtZvYbh0NzksAF2k7o78VW-k6CeUshI-u4CKsJ5COfQcv2CwpQE1YQZpHel1cgz1yzblkglxOdKElIUTop1Q24/s200/window+opens+1.jpg" border="0" /></a>Next, I created another necklace that has been on my mind for a few months. When I was laid off from my job in January, I knew that "When a door closes, a window opens." I have a box full of old brass window sash escutcheons my dad bought from a hardware store that was closing back in the 60s or 70s, (see, I'm not the only pack-rat in the family! My mom and dad taught me well!) and I knew I wanted to use those with this idea in mind. So I searched through vintage books for the words "When a door closes, a <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331589486947197346" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 161px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDrSF9zqE1zuEgWQnMZlCol2GqPi9Tzj3qcpqv9eu78iT5Q72H9aRi61uB32ZbscmS_ahfWep_IlWpaEAxIvPXwmiOrARysNg9s5rDGVailt-6K1pDJghKtIVpgkBnU6dQCa17fpQKzuU/s200/window+opens+reverse.jpg" border="0" />window opens", set them in the escutcheon with resin, then drilled holes for the charms. I searched on Google Images for pics of doorways and open windows from all over the world and sandwiched them (front and back) with mica. The beads are handmade lampwork beads that I'm not going to use for my finer necklaces, but they're perfect for this!<br /><br /><br />Man, I love creating art! It just makes me so happy!<br /><br /></div><div>I hope you do something that makes you happy today.</div><div><br /></div><div>Peace,</div><div>Kate</div></div></div></div></div></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07675007358159204799noreply@blogger.com7