The genius of movement....in praise of our MASTERPIECE, the human body.
[Movement; joy, healing, strength, grace, expression, personal power, dance.] Our body, yes: everybody's body, the human machine, was built to move. Even the perennial couch potato's. I have recently returned from a white belt NIA dance teacher training held in the majestic BC coastal mountains. This has been a decade long dream, since I was first introduced to the inventive hybrid of NIA dance. Marrying yin/yang effortlessly, it is a joyful expression of what Nia calls, ''the body's way''. The most natural way to find strength, coordination and well being while preventing injury and burn out. Not to mention the secondary rewards of kinship, delicious music and personal creativity. It is the frequent longing for more creative movement and physical expression, not just 'fitness' that has led me on a lifelong journey to find Nia. Dance of course, gives you a bit of all of it. S l o w intimate dances, fuNky swing, break dancing, martial moves, yogic balance, jazz attitude, tap, modern dance - at times as indecipherable as abstract painting; yet freeing, captivating, cathartic. It is the energetic steps dissolving into the stillness, agility snuggling playfully with strength moves. And the intensity, of course, dependent on the player. The theatre of dance tells our story. Dance expresses so many levels of ourselves; our spirit, our longings, our physical reality, the material poetry of our body. Perhaps physical intelligence lives most fully in dance. The gifts of movement, and the sheer genius of our body design, maximized through the marriage of all elements in NIA; strength, agility, flexibility, speed, and stability; collected artfully in the moving sculpture of your own making. It's true, that sometimes I love and need the power and strength of running, the independence of the trail, the unending road. The sheer simplicity of a solo run. Sometimes I need the calming beauty of the forest, or the daunting challenge of the mountain terrain; the uninterrupted eagle view always your reward, as well as the camaraderie of fellow hikers. At other times, I need quiet. Rest. Stillness. Healing from various emotional and physical ailments I have often turned to chi gong, yin yoga or Tai chi; for the wisdom, gentleness and grace that comes with slowing down. Rather contrary to this quiet, centred wisdom then, there are also the POWER fantasies of being an unstoppable gymnast/martialartsesque 'time and space bender' with parkour moves; crouching tiger, hidden dragon style, feeling 100 ft tall and IMMORTAL. (I know you can relate!!) But alas, that I have never mastered this level of adeptness and athleticism goes without saying. It is truly the celebration of movement of any kind, that I feel called to share. The strength and power one feels lifting weights, or the supple, toned and stretched results of pilates. The peace and beauty of kayaking under a full moon, and the utter relaxation after a swim in the pool. The crazy fRusTRatinG learning Curve of surfing or the thrill of down hill skiing. There is also the kick butt, sweat generating, 'heat up a winter day' on cross country skis (or snow shoes) kinda workout. The array of gifts and experiences movement brings is rather infinite and astounding. The JOY, the friends, the community spirit when you join a race or a fund-raising walk; sometimes even the pain, setbacks, soreness, the sprained ankles and wrists from basketball, The fear of ''not being good enough'', but the growing confidence and opportunity to test these things and trust trying is enough, winning is fun, but showing up is what counts! The tension of relay races and people counting on you, the excitement of shooting out of the blocks when you hear the gun. Tripping your partner in three legged races, families cheering at summer camp picnics. I cannot emphasize enough, the joy being in this mechanically brilliant body has afforded me. To say nothing of the sensual pleasures....... How can you not give back and take exquisite care of your temple that breathes all day long to fuel your thoughts, your activities, your work, your entire miraculous moving life? It is the vessel through which we experience our very existence. Yes, it's true, you caught me. I do get caught up in the petty complaints, the years agonizing over big arms or bumpy thighs, a few extra pounds, motivating oneself to get out the door, tripping over big feet and the sometimes indignities of say, mmm....a bout of food poisoning. Sometimes just sheer fatigue and being overwhelmed weighs us down. Cycles of chronic pain can interrupt good intentions. Meanwhile, the fuller reality is still that the human body is just phenomenal and gives us so much while asking so little in return. The empowerment of movement never ceases to amaze me and raise me up! You don't have to be an Olympian, just shake your booty, because even small movements are fun and energizing Just take a good long look at that amazing mechanism at the end of your arm called the hand, and thank it for all it does for you day in and day out; writing, holding a cup of coffee, typing...these are movements. If you don't Love to move then learn to move. Just Shake it off. And I promise you, if you pay attention, you will fall in love with your ability to move, over and over again. Even the frail elderly, declining and vulnerable will come to life with music; keeping the beat, swaying heads and snapping those digits. We, all of us, (even those that haven't figured it out yet) love to move. The body was built for it. The brain requires it. Movement juices your brain, energy and mood in such a vital way that AHA! Moments become more frequent, problems find solutions, and creative ideas F L O W. Walking is famous as a method for blasting creative blocks throughout the centuries. Composers, artists, writers, and inventors have used it as a natural balm since the dawn of time. Aristotle, Edison, Brahms, Beethoven, Monet, Dickens, O'Keefe are all fine examples. Julia Cameron speaks of walking as a spiritual rite of passage into a deeper creative life in her well loved tome, 'the Artist's Way'. Francine Shapiro, an American psychologist, discovered the portal to her groundbreaking trauma tool EMDR, by taking long walks in the woods when she was upset and observing changes that occurred in her well being and processing. Walking is our birthright. It's just plain good for us. And really, pretty darn cool when you spend some time truly honouring the mechanics of the body and it's elegant design. The fuelling system, alignment of 206 bones and 640 skeletal muscles; our motor, speed and cadence that quietly coordinates itself for us during an afternoon summer stroll for ice cream!! Even when ill in bed, circle those ankles, stretch out your arms, or focus on deepening your breath. Just do your best, from where you're at, to keep moving. Honour your body. If you were perhaps plagued growing up by clumsiness, oversize, illness, general awkwardness, thick glasses, bad balance and felt all of this has ruined your connection with movement forever...... I encourage you to try again. Try differently. Try inwardly. You are amazing! OF this I am certain. Whatever your circumstance. Whatever your shape or skill or fitness level. IF you have never fostered a healthy or loving relationship with exercise, due to bullying yourself through self loathing or at the hand of others; Lest I say again, just Shake. It. Off. (insert Taylor Swift dance video here for inspiration). Shift into loving, gentle moves. (It's sooooooo much less arduous). Scrap the idea of exercise and fall in love with the miracle of movement. It is one of the greatest gifts you can give yourself. We have perhaps become too banal about the miraculous. A side effect of our times brought on by constant inundation with knowledge, advancement and over exposure to, well, everything. Adults often have the bad habit of lulling themselves to sleep on autopilot. Wake up the W O W factor. Back to basics. The slow movement from Italy, the sexy resurgence of minimalism; reduce, reuse, recycle...these all hold the same core value of do it yourself with less gadgetry and fuss. Nike was on to something big when they came up with their tag line, 'Just do it. ' I remember many sublime moments of inspiration in my own life afforded by my body in motion. A remote canoe trip in my 20's in the beautiful lake of the woods region, complete with the challenge of portaging, the splendour of encountering owls, a near miss with a mama bear and cubs, an otherworldly full moon, a huge turtle and birds I had never seen or heard. These things, these beauties and connections I would never have known or touched without the capabilities of my body. I have mountain biked up remote trails in beautiful Deutschland, in search of Ein Schloss, and jumped for joy upon the newly toppled Berlin wall in 1990, as well as many nights danced away until dawn, one of the few, rare ways I witness sunrises. What are your top 5 experiences your body moved you too? Needless to say it is remarkable to tally your exquisite experiences brought by the joy and sensations of movement. And oh yes, sex most certainly counts. Do something. You don't have to look good doing it, you don't even have to know what to call it, just wiggle those toes. They are anxious to lead you out the door to a new version of you in motion. Use some elbow grease baking that cake, leave your mixer behind, remind your body of the muscle and coordination of beating a meringue that has all but been completely erased from your modernized, techno gadgety mind. Stretch the parameters of your cramped, tense animal body.... r - e - a - c - h and see the rewards and magic manifest. Joy is to be had by the simple pleasure of tapping your foot in a cafe to tunes. If you are feeling stuck, and you're reading this and still distracted by an internal discouraging voice, start small. Flutter those eyelashes, loosen your jaw, take a deep breath. Then take ten steps. Be creative. Be playful. Tiny Tippy Toes....then giant, exagerated steps. Break it down. Start small. Build from there. You, yes you, not just that cute guy over there or that svelte young thing, are an amazing body. We are all powerful beyond measure and frankly, we are sheer genius in motion. It is after all a dialogue with your body to be nurtured; a relationship that needs attention as any does. It is communicating in sacred simplicity with the cells of your body to honour your life force. Your personal divine poetry. Just show up, WAKE UP and r I S E UP! THANK YOU for being here with me. nh. (If this blog interested you, you may also enjoy 'the art of listening' (April 2015) about awakening the senses.)
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A POEM You ask, “ are you a poet?” I don't respond. Looking blankly past you, behind anonymous eyes. 'Why would you ask?' Didn't I bring you a scarlet river of silk, a vessel of my tears, warm like sake to be drunk drunk with you to find the cows' path home again dodging steaming dung pies beads of dew on our fancy leather shoes-- “ooh..” clenched fists; twisted eyes how I hate it when you ask me... 'Sake?' 10/03/2015 N. Hoeppner ORANGE
silence is not orange it is the putrid colour of menacing collusion. Cowardice. sometimes a poor man sometimes a rich man i wonder what gender i stand in, where my skin touches air; what skin means holding this humanity in form like phyllo pastry.... the translucence of my white privilege barely creates a shadow, cleverly hidden behind clear cut trees what gender has been programmed in me i see the stars again, eventually; from the gutter where I fall broken, dirty, a chipped tooth and a found dime give me false hope i had a loony once so dirty you couldn't see it was money blood and oil on all our hands blood and oil on all our hands we wash it out with sterilized gels poison the world water circles around pretending our shores aren't yours, aren't ours it is all pretend we have blood on our hands sometimes a rich man sometimes a poor man i am a woman turned her back on motherhood, or is it motherhood stabbed me in the back? forced into barren-hood hope raped by greed i was a rich man once, now just a poor man, i wait. i wait. i wait, we wait; for bloodstained hands to open in a compassionate turn they've never known to hold my newborn babe to my naked breast, the milk of human kindness, human kindness as dry as my middle aged tit i lay weary and disgusted in humankind no gender no colour no winner we are all lost. Killers. Guilty. with oil and blood on our withering greedy hands N. Hoeppner 05/2015 Two Sailing Wait Recently, en-route home after an exhilarating art retreat in Port Townsend, I was reminded of several life lessons which I have yet to master. Struggles which have become only more poignant living on a small island. As a result of being delayed at the border by our favourite power and control freak type of customs officer (one that spends far too long with every vehicle exerting their influence, despite the hour of backed up traffic), I missed my ferry home by yes, a few precious minutes. So, a fraction of a second before I bellowed about that aggravation, I rather -- reflected on the lessons before me. Ironically, this class remained rather intense, as the next ferry I caught was then forced to turn back to shore due to a medical emergency. “AH”... I worried, “will I make it home today? If I don't meet my connecting ferry, I will have to overnight elsewhere.” There is no doubt, life is made both interesting and logistically challenging, by the choice of Island living. Ergo, here is my list of the top 8 lessons I have learned living on a small island: Lesson 8. Mother Nature Rules. Respect her. The environment, including our animal friends of course, is the most important element to consider. You pay for the disposal of your garbage. You Recycle everything so packaging, specifically the ubiquitous villain plastic, will not end up in a whale's belly or your food chain. This you do yourself sorting at the depot, not leaving it at the curb. You composte. In other words, waste not, want not. During drought or not, conserve water. Be supremely careful about fire, sparks and human ignorance in this domain. I Notice my huge footprint, even when trying to walk softly and barefoot. Mother nature will also handily remind us that she can and will knock out your power and cancel your ocean sailing in a heartbeat should she choose, with no apologies. Lesson 7. News travels fast so be extra kind and keep your nose clean. This also includes being careful about whom you invite to dinner. We are interdependent no matter how much we value privacy and independence. Be neighbourly. Even 'Strangers' notice your haircuts here, pay attention. Lesson 6. Someone else is always entranced with the ferry ride you now find tedious and if you observe their enjoyment and excitement it revives your own and becomes contagious. Lesson 5. Skype is 2nd best to in person connection and keeps friends and family close. By all means connect with your community and locals but don't forget the world beyond island borders. Stay connected! Lesson 4. Support your local economy, but remember, Mail order is your secret friend. Amen. Lesson 3. You're not 'almost there' until you've landed because your travel depends on too many variables namely other people. (One road in and out leaves you vulnerable to damage after storms, flooding, tragic accident closures, unexpected ferry cancellations, tourists and medical incidents rerouting ships). IT is an ever present reminder that life is complicated and life is indeed what happens to you when you are busy making plans. Planning is an art, not a science. Lesson 2. As a large ferry turning back to port for a medical emergency will demonstrate, someone else is almost always having a worse day than you are no matter how inconvenienced you may feel, and extending compassion lessons the sting and softens you, also keeping the stress response at bay. Lesson 1. And finally, ( thunderous drum roll please) .....The....... number... .... One........ Lesson........ Learned from living life on an island, Accepting when ..... “that ship has sailed” baby. And you may not be on it. Grappling with ferry life can lead to the art, (and great challenge) of ACCEPTANCE: the grace to accept hard realities, lack of control and staying flexible. The lesson is understanding that both wishing and denial won't make it so. I was reminded of how many times in life I have simply resisted the reality of what is,(often forced change or loss) because I didn't want it to be so, and the enormous suffering that this can cause. How much wiser to recognize and accept the realities in the moment and move on. Let the irritation go, the illusions, the resistance...it is all a drain of valuable energy. When you watch a ship literally sail away from you, as you stand on the dock ''powerless'' and longing, left in its wake; YOU GET IT. It is humbling, yes, AND it presents you with a choice. Be present and make the most of the moment; enjoy. Acceptance is your new bff. SURE, have a brief snit if you must, (write a complaint to the Ferry company for improved schedules, prioritizing residents etc) and then take a deep breath, and retool. Take action when you can, let go of what cannot be changed, and enjoy the reality even when not planned upon. During those endless waits for ferry lines, try blowing bubbles, doodling, puzzles or juggling...because long waits are inevitable. Wise islanders can often be seen enjoying the value of power naps, or studying a new language. IT would appear then, inherent in all of this, that arriving safely remains a sweet privilege, never a guarantee. It remains an inescapable truth that it is the journey where lessons and our messy, juicy lives are hard won. Bon Voyage!! nh. ONE of my favourite places on earth is the north shore of Oahu. If you have never been it is one of the most spectacular wave displays, ridden frequently by world-class surfing fanatics. It is also a wonderful place to sit mesmerized and be calmed by a deep and lasting soul massage effortlessly administered by the crashing surf.
Free. W i l d. Magnificent. And we are talking DRaMaTiC surf — upwards of 40 ft waves, complete with currents and rip tides, both turmoil and power, amidst the stunning beauty and absolute peril. Rest assured - it is world class expert surfers only - the rest of us would surely be maimed or killed in short order. Many an over confident swimmer has been rescued by the life guards despite warnings EVERYWHERE not to swim. One such life guard was Eddie Aikau, who in his 9 yrs as a life guard made over 500 rescues, with not one failed attempt. Eddie is a legend in these parts. Late this February, February 25 to be specific, I was lucky enough to be in Oahu when a happenstance opportunity arose on the way to the north shore....'the Eddie', as it's affectionately called, surfing competition was announced, out of the blue. And by 'the blue' I mean markers deep off shore measuring the height of swells, predicting when and where breakers upward to 40 ft(I heard rumoured peaking out at 50 ft) will arrive at shore for, you guessed it, the world renowned surfing competition-- the Quicksilver, much better known as 'the Eddie.' Winner takes home 75 000 US. Sounds sweet, but I ask you this, do you risk your life daily to make your annual salary? Because that IS what it takes to paddle out to what seems to the gob smacked onlooker, certain death. Lifelong strong swimmers swear up and down they would NEVER enter that water. And, as a recent front row observer of all----although undeniably impressive to behold, it does seem purely insane to do so. I believe the expression ''bat shit crazy'' just might have originated here. Now understand, this competition has been cancelled many a time because waves are not high enough. To run the Eddie, waves must be consistently over 20 ft high. Hence the wild blue yonder markers calculating swells. We are talking falling off your board to an oft 25-30 foot drop, (like from a four story building batman,) with a punishing wall of crushing water coming down on you as you ''land''. And we watched enraptured, with thousands of other thrilled avid fans crowding Waimea Bay, not wanting the day to end. First to get there, winding down narrow north-shore roads, police flagging traffic through, no stopping, no gawking, cars parked for miles. Leaving before dawn we arrived to the throngs- many who camped out on the beach all night to be there...now 80 degree heat by 8.30 a.m., deafening waves crashing at shore, punishing sun. It is hard to perceive the vertical walls of turquoise blue water. Your eyes play tricks and want to see it as a horizon. It only becomes clear when at times you would see a cluster of tiny men bobbing up 30ish feet, and when one finally risked catching a wave—they looked like leggo figurines dwarfed by the magnitude of the turbulent sea. Sometimes your view would be blocked by the enormous wave cresting in front of them. 'Yes, it's a competition but help each other', was the Aiken family reminder at the opening ceremony, as that helping hand, is the true spirit of Eddie. Hawaiian identity and the movement for native sovereignty is imbued within this competition although not as evident on the spectacularly entertaining day. The historian, Isaiah Helekunihi Walker identifies a “culture of respect and exchange” on the beaches of Hawaii. * Eddie grew up a poor kid living in a graveyard with his large family. But ocean life, swimming and fishing were a break during these difficult days. Eddie's future could be different. Eddie could make a name for himself by holding his own in ocean breaks. Eddie's father knew this and encouraged him to learn surfing. This also led to his eventual livelihood as a lifeguard. Highly contrasted to the outward life of heroics he led, Eddie was known as a deep, shy and quiet person. It was during the thriving Hawaiian renaissance movement during the 1970's that his fate was set. Protest banners that decry ''illegal statehood'' were part of the Hawaiian protest of militarization and war, celebrating instead indigenous art and traditions like hula, all attempts to preserve the culture. Eddie embraced it. As such, he embarked on a voyage on a Polynesian vessel named, Hokule'a, one of the most visible symbols of this cultural and political movement. * His death came from trying to rescue the crew from its' capsized fate as they were sailing to Tahiti on what was to be a 28 day voyage. Instead, the boat hit a storm and soon capsized in a maelstrom; and after hours with 16 crew clinging to the side of the vessel, terrified, fatigued and seasick, Eddie finally convinced the captain to let him paddle his surf board to shore, approx 20 miles away, for help. Eddie died heroically trying to save the crew. He must have believed it was their only chance at survival. Ironically, the 15 remaining were saved by the US coast guard, with only Eddie perishing, although never found. Eddie is cherished as a rare and special human especially by the surviving crew. Apart from his role as a life guard it seems Eddie was a much larger guardian of the life spirit itself. Eddie Aikau is a well loved figure as proven again by the outpouring of support for Eddie's brother Clyde—now 66—also entering the surf like a practised Trojan warrior. In this case of course, a true Hawaiian warrior. Although Eddie's tale ends tragically, it is his fearless, generous, warm spirit that lives on infused through this crazy ass phenomenon know simply as 'the Eddie', with the defining mantra phrase ”Eddie would go...”, coined out of his fearless and compassionate spirit and legacy. I am most grateful for the sheer dumb luck enabling me to be present at this auspicious event. It felt like an enormous gift mother nature simply blew into town for us and all that attended. This is only the 9th Eddie in 31 years due to the strict wave criteria. To be there, is to be a part of a life force energy to be reckoned with... infectious, mesmerizing, courageous and yes, reckless. --but what is life without risk? The trick, as demonstrated by these surfers, seems to be a heady mix of preparation, training and practice meeting passion, a lust for life, awareness, a dose of crazy and of course, the final act of courage. Carpe Diem. Courage, the mastery and grace of riding one's wave, (whatever your own 30 ft challenge might be) side by side with your heart in your throat. SURF's UP! What will you ride? [In memory of Eddie and many other beloved special spirits we have all known and been touched by, may we always remember to help and inspire each other throughout our lives and for some, even long after their death.] ___________________________________________________________________________________________ Foot notes
nh For reasons far too dull to disclose, I recently resigned my career post and stuck a new entrepreneurial flag in the sand. Granted, this was no easy feat as I live on an island that is known as the Rock. Small leaps; BIG Leaps. Prepare thyself, it is that peculiar odd day out, we call Leap Year. Thematically, I began blogging a year ago with a leap into my website presence, as well as, literally, off a cliff. (see blog post December 2014 aptly titled, 'Leaping' if adventure is your game). Risk rarely involves stagnation, unless you factor in a quiet rest in quick sand. We speak of calculated risk, risk adverse, and risk taker in easy breezy conversational terms, yet, what does it all mean to you? And when must you simply trust your gut, your instincts, your intuition and, yes, dare I say it again, leap. If we never bare that risk we take the chance of reliving the same predictable pattern over and over and over, AND OVER, again. Fear will tell you to stay put. Fear will seduce you skillfully with the idea that safety, defined by the familiar, is always the sensible choice. Yet, it's hard to grow, while bored out of your mind. It's hard to thrive, jive or even try..... when stagnation sets in. And, it can be a f u r i o u s l y fast downward spiral to confidence lost and depression secured. A visit to a land you just don't want stamping your entry passport. Immigration will cruelly welcome you, but this is a clever ploy to distract you, make you feel you belong, only to hold you down fiercely. And, it is an absolutely hellish and tricky place to exit from. To escape you will have to work harder than you thought possible and yet rarely see results; the complete and utter OPpOsitE of 'how to be successful' books like, “Work smarter, not harder”, and “Get wealthier while working less”. The absolute and complete opposite of this indeed. However, it may be the start of your new book, “The 7 Ineffective Habits of Highly Dissatisfied People”. The choice, as always, is yours. So, what will you be doing with your leap year? We are already firmly entrenched into January and the race has begun. I have been luxuriating in a slow, thoughtful start, gaining clarity on goals, with my methods of madness afoot; discernment at the wheel, my navigator's cap askew, “Is it left here? Or right? Have I seen that tree before? Oh look, 3 pm and dark already...” Inspiration doesn't always strike mid-January. All we can do is navigate the storms; plan for the rainy day, show up, taKe AcTiON, love ourselves, play with our pets, and be kind to plants, neighbours, children and baristas, along the journey. It helps to be prepared; chance favours this, it has been said before by smart people. It helps to look good too, (just grocery shop in a hoody to test this theory). Looking good, and this means healthy and groomed, doesn't have to be glamourous. There is a deep truth and kindness in self esteem, self value as action, projecting, in fact, confidence, not arrogance or vanity, as we are so often erroneously taught. But you know all this. So the trick then, is to keep momentum. Even a bike will keep going without a rider for a time, if there is enough momentum. YES then, go ahead, build up a head of steam, so that when you are getting tired from being your fabulous self out there, sheer momentum will simply keep things going for you, until you wake from your snooze; rested, eager, and renewed from all that creative breathing space our one extra day will give us! Oh yes, it is definitely the year to jump up and down as much as possible and hopefully, not just in the same spot, whilst you simultaneously improve your strength and balance as a result. This by the way is also excellent preparation for the storms ahead. Now, if you are STILL dead set against leaps, then for goodness sake, fly fish, tai chi, or tap dance circles around us instead. This new shiny l e A p year, Just. Keep. Moving! THIS is BLISS
EVERY Year of my adult life, without fail, I am ready for Christmas around about December 28th. It always seems to take at least two, maybe 3 days post Christmas, to decompress, truly relax and find my centre again. Which then allows me to feel human, deeply relaxed and ready to embrace people as well as demands and peripatetic schedules again. Until then, to be perfectly honest, I am prone to stress spikes, unrealistic expectations, social phobia, tension tactics and moods to rival the Grinch. The problem with my approach is, clearly, a bit like showing up for a wedding when the happy couple are already launched on their honeymoon and the party is waaaay......over. I always vow I will do it differently next time. Lower expectations, skillfully ducking guilt and it's sucker punches like a lithe Ninja, choose only customs I appreciate like fine wine, being with people I love; delight in making the perfect meaningful gifts for a special few---phone everyone I want to connect with AND have lots of fun, looking great all the while! Insert sad stressed face here. I didn't quite pull that fantasy off. So here I am in the quiet of a northern winter night by myself, a sleeping cat and twinkling lights thinking, 'is it already over? I haven't even decorated yet. Where are those decorations anyway?' Despite this general holiday craze, I did notice today, the delicious feeling of being at ease, not just having a quiet day, but a quiet MIND. What an amazing gift! My body was relaxed, with much less tension, fewer aches, even a little more energy, but in a mellow way. This virtually, never happens to me. At least lately. This however, I want plenty more of, and need to find a way to create. I LOVE THIS DELICIOUS MELLOW FEELING. I sketched, I drew, I wrote, I walked in the woods, I splashed through mud puddles, I played with my cat, sang in the shower, LouDLy, (make belief songs at that.) This is a state of mind and ease I could get used to and enjoy. THIS is BLISS. I woke up thinking about dreams and goals for the new year ready to embrace the day. I was clear and focused. Sometimes, it takes these dark, cold, internal feminine days of yin winter to find the depth of reflection and stillness to unwind. (This also brings me to my favourite read of the year award; QUIET: The hidden power of the Introvert, by Susan Cain. ) Here we are at end of year tallies, preparing for clean slates, after reflecting on the days of 2015. Spotless new day books beckon for dates and commitments; the expansive vortex of a whole new year of time before us like a tricky Escher drawing meeting Dr Suess' improbably realities of optical illusion. Improbable yes, but appealing and oddly compelling, always. The new year brings hope. Promise. A new beginning. Still, not before we bid adieu to the soon to be old one. We are in transition, again. Another year ticks down and winds up simultaneously—we review, reflect, sometimes visiting regret—other times rejoicing in our gratitude, our accomplishments, the unfolding of our messy lives. Life IS perpetual motion like water through our fingers. We grapple with our existence and its meaning, purpose, delights and suffering. Stretching ourselves, without tearing...is the eternal challenge. A recent discussion in pension choices and outcomes invariably leads to questions of ''how much time is left on my clock'' and 'how much will I need for the future? what will become of us?" And, while we do need to attend to the practical application of our material body and it's demands to be warm and fed—how do we also plan for filling our heart and soul with desire, delight, passion and WoNdER? Do we give it equal measure and emphasis in our hectic lives, skimming our pay cheques to save for funding our dreams as diligently as our RSP's? If not now, then when? Still, here we all are in the residual magic of yuletide treasures. Love is all around, the true message of Christmas. Connecting with friends, reaching out to those you miss. The magic of Christmas lights, mist, the muffled sounds of late snowy nights in the north, now in the stillness of a deep December. Sinking into the moon fever of Solstice, the velvety darkness of a long chocolate night; perhaps hibernating in batman onesie's and turtle slippers. This is the delicious time of yin, ready to curl up and rest from the incessant “ RAH, RAH!” yang of the rest of the busy year. Being distracted is unavoidable, (we tell ourselves in order to justify) inattentiveness, poor manners, rash decisions, rudeness, and other increasingly omnipresent sins of the 21st Century. Decompressing from the constant bombardment can take awhile. Instead, it is finally Dec 28 and I am calm and relaxed and finally ready for Christmas. SO In praise of quiet; yin, softness, patience, imagination, dreams, reflection and solitude,( and a little reinvention), let us sink into the still, silent night of Christmas time; bellies hopefully full and satisfied, hearts in various chaotic states of joy, grace, loneliness and nostalgia. After all, (we are messy creatures, we have even managed to crowd outer space with junk;) but for now, at least for now, let our internal universes know c a l m . Peace. Stillness. Know acceptance of what is and the courage to sleep deeply and start again in the dim morning light of a Canadian winter day. May we all be free of fear, pain and suffering for at least one night a year. So, please do forgive me for getting to the party late... Merry Christmas to all and to all a good Year! This is Bliss, indeed. Creative Detours
Due to a recent series of unfortunate events a la 'Lemony Snicket' style, it appeared all was but lost on my original summer holiday plans. However, I return victorious from a recent creative detour; replenished after all and reminded of the unexpected gifts in the wounds, insults and injuries of everyday life. After a dry spell paralleling the drought and stage 4 water shortage of my home island-- I am reminded that, eventually, rain happens again. Eventually. Something gives, something changes, eventually....whether an adaptation of the old, an adjustment to a new environment, or a return to prior balance--- even when you have to retool, postpone or cancel your week holiday altogether; which, in the end, landed me in a pretty magical and unexpected destination. What otherwise would have been an expansive week of camping and hiking in the mountains became a shortened two days of opportunity, so we seized the day choosing a nearby manageable destination. Passing a just contained week long forest fire en route was heartbreaking; a brutal reminder of the dangers of human stupidity mixed with a crisis state of drought. As we choked on the smoke and meandered through the haze, it was a painful reminder of how quickly everything changes, and yes, detours... The road we were on had only opened to the public again a mere 12 hrs earlier. After arriving at the the very farthest 'westest' west coast one can get; the air cleared again, and a gentle rain replaced the dry smokey haze. The first rain in months. The wet chill had never been so welcome! Through the window of the forest, the sound of ocean waves beckoned, sculpted weather worn rocks, driftwood, cliffs and dramatic vistas formed a rugged backdrop. A tangle of exotic tree roots created enchanting, strange canopies; drawing us forward, welcoming us into their mysterious, storybook lair. The earth quietly showed itself to simply be an absolute masterpiece. Standing at the 'gnarliest tree in Canada' in the great Avatar forest was mysterious, humbling and deeply calming. There, a blue jay fed me this song in the silence. I knew then that I should share it here. In yet another detour, this time from decorum, urgency required I must pee in the woods. My bare bottom to the moss, a declarative act of being one with your animal flesh in the forest, is, after all, quite freeing and natural. A strange sort of liberation. It certainly strips etiquette, learned behaviours and socializing right down to its bare necessities! (OH YES, pun intended.) I spoke earlier this year of creative detours in the form of rejection from an art show. Knocked me off my balance for a bit, lost some confidence and direction. Detours are like that.....detours are often unbidden. Such as a lay off from work this spring. Many events this year have been beyond my control and influence, seemingly being caught in the spin cycle of external events. “Fate is like a strange, unpopular restaurant filled with odd little waiters who bring you things you never asked for and don't always like.” ― Lemony Snicket. Perhaps you can relate to such a period in your life. How then, does one ground themselves at these times? I'll tell you, a daily practice of meditation would help. But I don't do that...too fond of sleep I am. For me regaining fitness was my life line; hiking in the woods and just being in the woods themselves. Back to the Avatar forest. Simply Amazing. The quiet was truly soothing...... Intriguing...... U n f a m i l i a r. Yet, to natter on about the quality of the silence seems counter-intuitive and...well, noisy. If only I could convey in words the symphony of this delicious silence. What a resonate deep velvet, soft landing place. Moist. Green. Spacious. A true balm for the soul. I wish everyone could experience it. EVERYONE. Because I know once touched by this powerful force, you too would feel dedicated to protect nature if you weren't already. Even oil company executives and corrupt prime ministers would feel changed. I am certain. “At times the world may seem an unfriendly and sinister place, but believe that there is much more good in it than bad. All you have to do is look hard enough and what might seem to be a series of unfortunate events may in fact be the first steps of a journey.” ― Lemony Snicket nh. ( This blog is dedicated to dear Sampson, a lion among domestic Main coons d. june 6, 2015 )
I am just back from another nostalgic trip home to my birthplace of Winnipeg. There I said yet another bittersweet and likely final farewell to Dusty, my sisters' husky dog of a remarkable 16 yrs old. She is a dear and dainty dog for such a tough breed; long, elegant and lean just like her other family members, including my uber tall nephews. Throughout history we have immortalized the life and times of an era through artwork, often depicting domestic life including the beasts of prey and also companionship. Dogs and cats, sometimes, even lions, chickens, cattle, donkeys and ducks, snakes and birds of the day, immortalized for all eternity. Wolves, Bulls and Buffaloes documented in Paleolithic cave paintings; lions and bulls in Roman and Greek frescoes and sculpture; sphinx' in ancient Egyptian art. Distorted animal interpretations by Bosch in the 1500's are endlessly fascinating and later plenty of fish, fowl, domestic cats and dogs appear in the Dutch paintings of Vermeer and Rembrandt to name just a very few--- continuing on through the centuries with their own narratives. Often used for symbolic and sometimes mythical purposes in art, animals also cast a snap shot of the historical relevance they played in daily life. More then even wondering about the portraits of our ancestors...I am always endlessly curious about the animals in paintings beside them-- their connections to the individual being painted, the artist capturing the moment, how were they treated , their value in the day; often seen more practically for mousing, or hunting and historically often for protection rather than companionship... How far we have come, where pets are at near worshipped status again as cats were in the Egyptian sphinx era. Pets connect us to the natural world. And our more natural selves. Their sentient presence in our life serves as a portal to a deeper emotional world we sadly seldom venture into; often navigating the world with our well worn armour instead. In our fast paced, concrete and technical life we need our furry friends more and more to stay human, tactile and senuous. Picasso had cats; Matisse, Klimt, O'keefe, and Warhol did too. Rodolphe de Salis has immortalized 'le chat noir' with his iconic poster. Artists are often loners and require long weird studio hours and jolts of antisocial behaviour making animals a worthy, adaptable option to human company. Gaguin fled his hum drum banking life to Tahiti perhaps in part for all the exotic birds and flowers, where as I imagine Van Gogh must of communed with the ravens he painted in fields of haystacks. Emily Carr famously had her monkeys. And naturally, cats are quite indicative of the artistic life. Nocturnal. Loners by reputation, private then surprisingly playful and social; they capriciously retreat back to loners again. Quiet, prone to sudden naps, then wild tangos of fancy, energetic bursts, even bouts of destruction, a la the unwinding of the toilet paper roll! I have lived with animals for quite some time now, after a childhood of farm exploration and immersion into adulthood; strays, visits to the animal hospital, wildlife refuge for the wounded, pet sitting through the university years and finally making my way to my own homes and chosen 'wild beasts' to settle in with domestically. My life is infinitely richer and more layered because of my connection to animals and the love and compassion we share, the antics, the laughter, and yes, even the loss, pain and lessons. Painting is just not the same without a cat messing things up and getting white paws covered in pthalo blue! (ACK!!!) (tips on bathing cats next blog). We need joy and connection in our lives and these are the qualities our animal counterpoints bring in spades. Plenty of studies, as I'm sure you are already familiar so I won't bore you with here, show the efficacy of lowered blood pressure, lowered stress hormones, longer life, greater index of happiness....for those who access the love and affection of our furry friends. fACT: Even watching a minute of cute kitten YOU tubes will bring an immediate smile and reduction of stress and lowered cortisol levels. They fill a place and space in your heart no other can. The unspoken love acceptance and connection, a simply magnificant experience: and offered up with absolutely no judgement. There is simply no other place on earth, with no one else alive, that you will find that kind of unconditional adoration. They are forgiving, affectionate, loyal, often good humoured...adorable, soft, sweet, frisky, mischievous, often nuanced and amazing teachers. Delightful inspiration and muse through the ages. Instigators of creative flow, opening the heart. Pets are undoubtedly a member of the family although still, sometimes taken for granted. Words simply fall short of defining their significance and deep enrichment of our lives. I think the bonds are better captured with photos belying the tender alliance and dedication that can only be filled by these sublime creatures and enduring friends. Their mystery part of the allure, the language barrier, most certainly, an important part of the energetic bond. Sampson was just such a guy. A king really. Quite a champion of the disdainful gaze, grounded and loving but never, mushy or cloying. I am honoured that I was his auntie, and that I was afforded a chance to bid a loving farewell. As with Dusty; a request to the Gods , may her last weeks and days be gentle. In honour of our daily champions.... (various artists with their pets: Frida Dahlo, Salvador Dali, Emily Carr, Matisse, Picasso, Georgia O'keefe, Andy Warhol, Herbert Tobias, John Cage) |
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