- 68,653 hits
- Still Taking the Anti-Dote (to the Poison of Chaos) And an Art Note February 17, 2020
- Tricks of Light I January 3, 2020
- Covehithe Ochres and Gissing Whites: Hand-Made Paints from Foraged Pigment November 2, 2019
- Indeterminacy: The Blueberry Interlude: Cold Dyeing with Blueberry Stems October 15, 2019
- More Notes from a Melody Not Yet Written October 14, 2019
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Tag Archives: Spiritual
We took on an allotment plot, long neglected, last autumn. The weather angel gave us a month of good weather. We cleared away rubbish, cleaned and painted, deep dug and conditioned some squares and rectangles of soil in which to plant potatoes and brassicas in this new growing season. Continue reading
My visual journal entry to mark the week. A week of eclipses (two). I’m using blackish tones in this little piece. One black obscuring another. The brownish-black squares are the front and back of two used (blackcurrant?) teabags from my ever-increasing stash. Square black moons placed over another used teabag – of green tea and it’s yellow-white. There’s two semi-circles pencilled-in at the bottom of the top moon and the top of the bottom moon. I’m going to stick these with the tea-dyed embroidery cotton that rests under the red line. This is a bit of red recycled sari silk. It represents a bloodline. It weaves right across and separates the landscapes of the two suns and around the top of one of a growing collection of black round stones I am digging up at the allotment. Broken open, they are red. It may be bloodstone. Gem buffs out there, help me. I’m calling this a blood moon. Continue reading
A few pages shuffled
my hands uncertain
tentative as always.
One’s full of tears
as I am tears, and bad repairs
that won’t last, of remains
of lives that didn’t. But their stories
are beautiful, aren’t they? Continue reading
What can I do but follow? I’m an old dog now and they’re my home. Wherever they go, I go with them.
It’s been like this, since … Ceaselessly wandering, my humans. They have no choice, but that’s long forgotten, except for cellular memories, urging.
They call it many things, the restlessness. Career move. Downsizing. Looking for a better life. Continue reading
The Loving Quark
Said Einstein, “into nature look, look deep
and better all things will you understand.”
To look into the heart – the seat
of love – he was, it seemed, imploring man. Continue reading
Life flowers Continue reading
As my broken shoulder mends (and the rate is ‘amazing’ and ‘astonishing’ to my consultant and physio respectively) and I am able to do more and more with my left hand and arm. (I’m a leftie, so it’s quite important!) I’m bit by bit picking up my creative threads. Spiritually and mentally, there are some exciting developments brewing.
Nonetheless, I’ve been feeling down in the dumps about my creative hiatus. My hands fell this morning on a little book I have* of extracts from the love poems of Rumi, described on the cover as, “The great Sufi saint who embraced God through the path of love.” I opened it upon words which resonated strongly with my present state of spirit – and body. Continue reading