A new space

moving... to a space more open and more appropriate:


http://thoughtsonprocess.blogspot.com/


thoughts on the process.... and there it continues, in its old form, and new.  come visit...

A "haiku" installation

more concretely forming...


a table of onions...red?  in a pile, in a grid?
a fan, several feet away, in motion, moving their skins
the sound of water rushing, from hidden speakers, emanating from under the tabletop


and these words...somewhere...
sorrow breathes into 
tight spaces that lie waiting
river tumbles on

Few little gems?

From the sketchbook.  Written in August.  I might like them.


a longing for ground
a hue, a scent; collisions
that break sweat.  Today.


lightness cast on limbs
tracing butterflies movements––
a washing away


sorrow breathes into 
tight spaces that lie waiting
river tumbles on

Lunacy

when the moon is undressed
a weight

Day ??: Making some art

Time to come out from under...
underneath, underground, out from under the weight.
More combinations from the medical terminology study card set:


a slow heart rate
pertaining to the tongue
covering


hard 
fast
transparent


swelling
a dissolution of a vertebra
an inflammation of the tongue


difficulty breathing
an abnormally increased degree of sensation
"all powerful"


skin
throat 
bind


toward the near end
a stoppage of blood flow
incomplete expansion


death
apart; the breaking apart
blood vessel narrowing


a site of union
after
a bitter poison


fever without fever
together; living together
stupor

Day who knows what: not counting anymore

Hades visiting

evanescent chemistry

naked, white, sleeping

A gorgeous fall day, filled with images.  

Day 84: After a hiatus

Smoothness in flight.  But only on the way back, the return.

 

I ruminate on the red cardinal, who lately has not crossed my path. I have been looking for other signs.  Gesticulating onion skins, do they whisper a promise of intimacy?

Now, suddenly, turbulence.  Mid-air, after acknowledging its lack.  Reminding me…. Do not get too comfortable.

Day 78: Flow and resistance, a potential installation

A vision of onions continues to beckon me. In a pile. On a table. Loose skins, being moved by air.

Day 77: The non-duality of absence and presence

Monday morning:  The old man who knows Sylvia's name hobbles by and I catch his movements.  He brings me such joy, walking so slowly, one foot in front of the other in a mechanical, broken body kind of way.  He emanates difficulty in his gate, yet he persists anyway.  His old dog on a leash.  A black and white Australian Shepherd, with grey hair... and one blue eye and one brown.


Fifteen minutes later: another old man walks by in the same direction.  Long grey hair and beard, bandana, shirtless.  Seemingly exercising.

I hear the wisdom in Saturn's voice.


Ten minutes later:  the same old man, the shirtless hippy, bounces in a strange perfunctory manner outside my window in the opposite direction.  He seems to be trying his hand at jogging.

Could Saturn have a sense of humor?




In meditation practice part of "achieving" presence means sitting inside the judgment that comes with realizing failure.  Not chasing it away, but watching it, accepting it.  My daily commitment continues to wane, spaces between posts becoming larger.  There is much potential for shame.  But I also realize in this opportunity that I do not believe in hard lines. Commitments sometimes require readjusting.  I am still "here" within the space of this public form of expression...nearby anyway, at all times. Its existence continuing to provide an anchor, and that is the point. However, I do realize that I can do better.  Much has fallen to the wayside, including the garden, which is dry and full of weeds.


    

Day 72: Passage into and out

Day 71: In the interludes

These deep long spaces, held open for moths to drink.  Ones that pollinate.  While nectar accumulates, I wait.  Congruency disappearing in the gaps.

Day 70: Phantasm

I am haunted by the presence of a limb gone missing.  This rapacious want, this dire craving, makes for a dark mood.  I am only half.

Friction in Eden, at the farm.  And in the cells. 
Swirling.  And killing the butterflies. 

Day 66-69: Delirium...

...that can only come from severe lack of sleep.  I am revisiting new motherhood again, in all its inexplicable randomness and challenges to sanity.  So I water the garden, quenching a deep thirst left from several weeks of neglect and late summer heat. 

I neglect many things lately.  While dispensing a burning gaze.  Onto a world inhabited by an image.  And swarming moths.

Day 65: Commencing

moments modified

a spiraling into red,
gold. a resistance


moths swarm the cat litter

Days 61-64: Failure...

...to stay on course.  Somewhat.  The tension of the square at work:  liberation and restriction.  But promises fade, despite the constance of the discipline.  These days I exist mindfully.  I am [mostly] present.  And not thinking to make words about it.

Day 60: Fitting

a congruency
under skin, and out of hair
no weeping,
only

Day 59: Possession

Reading tall tales of fortune-tellers and wicked girls.  And floating in a language not mine, but mine to be had.  “Mine.”  The word of the month.  Spoken incessantly by S who wants to possess the world, including me.  I am hers.  But unbound.

Day 58: Swooning...

...over Isabel's words:


You think in words; for you, language is an inexhaustible thread you weave as if life were created as you tell it.  I think in the frozen images of a photograph.  Not an image on a plate, but one traced by a fine pen, a small and perfect memory with the soft volumes and warm colors of a Renaissance painting, like an intention captured on grainy paper or cloth.  It is a prophetic moment; it is our entire existence, all we have lived and have yet to live, all times in one time, without beginning or end.

Day 57: Craft

falling for nine days and nine nights
and forged under a volcano

Day 56: Swirling

a whirlpool, moving out
into intentioned waters

Day 55: Lightness?

I ascend… only to encounter a slaughter.

The bodies of hundreds of dead ladybugs on the floor of the the loft of the treehouse.

Day 54: Smoldering

Fire makes its way out through dead skin cells.

Day 53: Convergence

Another day in trees on sanctified land.  But marked by dissimilar intentions and a distinctly different community….  Worlds merge and tension mounts.  My pores bleed out the inner, and the outer holds an inaccurate reflection.

Though the red cardinal keeps crossing my path.  An indication?

And so I seek water…  

Day 52: Arriving home

An arial shot of myself.  Looking through windows… a distanced view.  Of scars and fractures and cast shadows.

Day 51: Taking leave of the Earth

Day 7 at Hambidge

Day 50: Currents

Day 6 at Hambidge


the wind dances, in
hot, humid air, not breathing
but holding...lightness

Day 49: Pairings

Day 5 at Hambidge
more from the Medical Terminology Study Card Set:


the deposition of semen within the female reproductive tract
the study of blood
thick speech

Day 48: Removal of breath

Day 4 at Hambidge

A flock of bees outside my cabin door, in the Liriope jungle.... swarming, humming, pollinating... 

Day 47: The lived body

Day 3 at Hambidge

pinned to the walls...

Day 46: An aliveness in the darkness

Day 2 at Hambidge

I mistook it for an empty shell....