Category Archives: Nature

The Feel of the World

“Sensations, from the beginning, involve a sort of doing. This means that, in an important sense, it is your doing self that brings your core self into being. You are responsible at the very deepest level for what it feels like to be you. But then, for your next trick, well, how about spreading some of that soul dust onto the things around you? Remember, too, that it is your mind that projects phenomenal qualities onto external objects. If you only knew it, you yourself are responsible for the feel of the world.”

– Nicholas Humphrey
Soul Dust: The Magic of Consciousness

Meet Skittles

skittles the christmas spider

Skittles the Christmas Spider

And now, the Legend of the Christmas Spider

On Christmas eve, a long time ago, a gentle mother was busily cleaning the house for the most wonderful day of the year… Christmas day, the day on which the little Christ child came to bless the house. Not a speck of dust was left. Even the spiders had been banished from their cozy corner on the ceiling. They had fled to the farthest corner of the attic.

The Christmas tree was beautifully decorated. The poor spiders were frantic, for they could not see the tree, nor be present for the little Christ child’s visit. Then the oldest and wisest spider suggested that perhaps they could wait until everyone went to bed and then get a closer look.

When the house was dark and silent, the spiders crept out of their hiding place. When they neared the Christmas tree, they were delighted with the beauty of it. The spiders crept all over the tree, up and down, over the branches and twigs and saw every one of the pretty things.

The spiders loved the Christmas tree. All night long they danced in the branches, leaving them covered with spider webs. In the morning, when the little Christ child came to bless the house, he was dismayed! He loved the little spiders for they were God’s creatures, but he knew the mother, who had worked so hard to make everything perfect, would not be pleased when she saw what the spiders had done.

With love in his heart and a smile on his lips, the little Christ child reached out and gently touched the spider webs. The spider webs started to sparkle and shine! They had all turned into sparkling, shimmering silver and gold.

According to legend, ever since this happened, people have hung tinsel on their Christmas trees. It has also become a custom to include a spider among the decorations on the Christmas tree.

Born of Water

If you see only a square, click the image to see the entire painting.

Aphrodite's Birthplace / 12" x 36" canvas with acrylic $35/$50/$80

Aphrodite’s Birthplace / 12″ x 36″ canvas with acrylic

There are two Aphrodites. In one version, she is born of Zeus and Dione, and is known as Aphrodite Urania. This goddess was considered more spiritual, more celestial or heavenly, or pure. The other goddess is Aphrodite Pandemos (of the people). She was associated with sensual pleasure of the body. She was born when Cronus cut off Uranus’s genitals and threw them into the sea, and she arose from the sea foam (aphros). She was also worshipped as a being uniting all the inhabitants of a country into one social or political body.

So love, erotic energy, desire arise from a place of chaos and violence. This feels fitting to me in light of the recent presidential election.

Grief

Everything I tried to create this morning went wrong. I couldn’t step into flow. I was agitated and disgusted with election results. A couple of snarky comments on my Facebook feed by two “friends” didn’t help. Their candidate won, and they showed no attempt to understand why I took the loss so deeply. I try to rise above base reactions, but at the end of the day, I decided to “unfriend” them. I took care of my heart.

After I left the failed attempts to make art this morning, I returned in the afternoon. I managed to get a little something made, and it was good to find the flow and lose myself in it.

six little fish / 5" x 7" canvas with acrylic

Six Little Fish / 5″ x 7″ canvas with acrylic

More Autumn Fun

In this piece I was experimenting with new materials: gel medium, collage, iridescent paint. I was aiming for a feeling of layering and translucence. It was difficult to create and to photograph! Something didn’t feel right about it, and still doesn’t. But it came through me, and whether I like it or not, someone else might.

late autumn fun

Late Autumn Fun / 10″ x 10″ mixed media on canvas

The National Park Service Rocks

Some years ago, Bean received a Junior Ranger Night Explorer booklet. I think it was at Bryce Canyon. She didn’t have a chance to complete it during our camping trip, so we brought it home.

A couple of years later, while at Glacier National Park, she completed the booklet. However, they didn’t have any on hand. So I began a search to find someone, someplace at the NPS to help us. I tried a few phone calls and emails to people I was referred to at the NPS directory, but no answer came.

Then one day I read someone’s blog that described getting one at Badlands National Park. So I called the office and spoke to the ranger. She told me to send the booklet to her attention and after review, it would be sent back with the patch. I mailed it off August 17, 2016.

Nothing came. Time passed. Still, nothing. September flew through our lives. We entered October. I gave it up as lost. I figured by now the park has closed for the season, so the earliest we’d ever see anything was in spring, if ever. Today, I came home to this in the mail:

jrranger1

We did a happy dance! Bean opened the envelope:

jrranger2

The booklet and my letter were enclosed. At first we thought that was it. Nothing else was in the envelope. Then the patch slipped out from the pages of the booklet. Happiness!

jrranger3

We give props to the staff at Badlands National Park for helping us!

jrranger4

Autumn Love

"golden hour" / 18" x 24" canvas with acrylic

“Golden Hour” / 18″ x 24″ canvas with acrylic

“For these beings, fall is ever the normal season, the only weather, there be no choice beyond. Where do they come from? The dust. Where do they go? The grave. Does blood stir their veins? No: the night wind. What ticks in their head? The worm. What speaks from their mouth? The toad. What sees from their eye? The snake. What hears with their ear? The abyss between the stars. They sift the human storm for souls, eat the flesh of reason, fill tombs with sinners. They frenzy forth. Such are the autumn people.”

–Ray Bradbury

More Art

In the beginning, the Creator laid out butcher paper and secured it to the floor with masking tape. She assembled all her materials.

art beginning

Then she proceeded to wet her paintbrushes and play. She felt peace and joy and forgot about thinking.

art in process

After awhile she finished one piece and stepped back to look at it. And the Creator saw it was good.

"birds on a wire" / 14" x 16" acrylic on canvas

“Birds on a Wire” / 14″ x 16″ acrylic on canvas

Latest Work

About a year ago I began some paintings and put them aside. I returned to the canvas last week, and what I started didn’t spark me, so I painted over it. The other piece I just did today. The interesting thing is when I started painting it last night it didn’t look anywhere near how it ended up. And there was a point this morning where I hated it; I seriously thought about ditching the board. I felt so uncomfortable as I created. What helped was to walk away, do other things, and come back. Then I felt friendlier to the piece and new ideas came. I did this several times, and I like the result. Sometimes making stuff can be scary and hard and yet so rewarding.

moonstones / 12" x 24" acrylic on canvas

“Moonstones” / 12″ x 24″ canvas with acrylic

"autumn" / 8 x 10" canvas board with acrylic

“Autumn” / 8″ x 10″ canvas board with acrylic

Eminence

view from going the sun road

Glacier National Park

“As long as I live, I’ll hear waterfalls and birds and winds sing. I’ll interpret the rocks, learn the language of flood, storm, and the avalanche. I’ll acquaint myself with the glaciers and wild gardens, and get as near the heart of the world as I can.”

–John Muir

A Loyal Companion

good morning moon

Glacier National Park, St. Mary Campground

The moon is a loyal companion. It never leaves. It’s always there, watching, steadfast, knowing us in our light and dark moments, changing forever just as we do. Every day it’s a different version of itself. Sometimes weak and wan, sometimes strong and full of light. The moon understands what it means to be human. Uncertain. Alone. Cratered by imperfections.”

–Tahereh Mafi

Visual Comprehension and Justification

The MRI indicated a lesion worth a deeper look. The tech marked my breast in one room using an ultrasound machine that was new. When the radiologist attempted to locate it in the biopsy room, she spent a half an hour trying to find the exact location of the suspicious lesion. At one point I murmured, “So much flesh…” and she gently said, “No. This machine isn’t as new or as good as the one in the other room.” As time passed, though, I began to feel self-conscious and uncertain. I mean, if it’s so hard to find, should I even be there at all? The equipment, time, and expertise cost a great deal of money. If it’s so small, maybe I’m wasting all that. Just because they can see something on the MRI doesn’t mean it’s necessarily a big deal. I said something about this, and the doctor assured me (as of course she would) that certainly it’s worth looking at. She also said that yes, the highly sensitive machines and tests sometimes can find something that turns up benign, but that to be sure is better. Still, I had this feeling of wasting resources. What helped me feel like further testing is justified was a) that the doctor said if it were her breast, she’d pursue it and b) once she knew I’ve had atypical hyperplasia before she was adamant I do it (an MRI breast biopsy).

Yet sometimes it helps to actually measure something and compare. The suspicious lesion is 6 x 8 x 4 millimeters. So I went through my art supplies and found something that fits those dimensions. Then I compared this to a dime (see picture). The visual impact was persuasive. While this is not a huge lump, it is not microscopic either. It is not small, when one considers the breast. It is real, and it wasn’t there a year ago. I spent a few hours reading up on breast cancer and radiology terms. If I wasn’t convinced before that this is worth taking seriously, I am now. And yes, if it’s benign, it’s still worth checking.

The point of having this technology and being identified as high risk (42.5% lifetime chance) is to stay on top of changes so they don’t become big lumps, by which time the diagnosis is invasive cancer and/or possible metastasis requiring mastectomy, lymph node dissection, chemotherapy, and radiation. The point is that if caught early, prognosis is excellent. It’s far more costly (to insurance and to me) to wait for a lump to become palpable and treat it.

Intellectually I know that I am worth time, attention, and resources. Yet it was showing myself the physical dimensions of this lesion that settled it.

In 2011, I had a lesion that required surgical biopsy. It was 5 mm (don’t know all dimensions), and they ended up taking a not-small chunk of my breast with it. The pathology report indicated atypical ductal hyperplasia — meaning that abnormally shaped cells were reproducing at a faster than normal rate in my milk duct. It was precancerous, and thus major trouble was nipped in the bud. So yes, this suspicious lesion found by the MRI (but not a mammogram) merits a closer look.

size comparison

One of Those Days

I’m having one of those days — I am so grateful to be alive.

The act of walking, the taste of coffee, the coziness of a blanket.

The emotion stirred by music, the brain food from books, the hugs from my child.

Greeting the parent who shows up every school morning to be crossing guard.

My breath with its precious oxygen that feeds my blood which my heart pumps reliably and perpetually through my body according to instructions from my nervous system and brain.

That any of it IS remains a mystery and a miracle.

How God Remembers That Which is Least

Yesterday I walked home from dropping my daughter at school, and I passed by a wounded mourning dove on the sidewalk. It was camouflaged and nearly undetectable. In a matter of seconds my eye saw it, my heart said, Oh! Poor creature, and my legs kept walking. I thought — actually, I felt a physical pressure in my torso — the prompt of compassion to move it off the sidewalk, and this was immediately chased away by the thought, Remember, avian flu, don’t want to get something like that.

I kept walking, but a debate occurred between my mind and that felt part of me. I hesitate to call it my heart, because it filled my torso. It was an interesting experience, since another part of me was detached enough to witness the event. This is what unfolded:

Feet are walking.

Head: Keep going. It could have disease.

Heart: You can wash your hands as soon as you get home. It’s vulnerable. At least move it off the sidewalk.

Head: It’s probably going to die.

Feet keep walking.

Heart: Just move it! Even if it dies, let it be somewhere safer.

Head: No, it’s silly. It’s just a bird. Not a big deal. Besides, I’m several houses past it.

Heart: Go back. Go back, pick it up, and put it under a bush.

Feet move more slowly.

Head: You’re kidding, right? Feet, keep walking. It’s no big deal.

Feet continue to move, even more slowly.

Heart: You must go back. Turn around, walk back, and move the bird. It’s a living creature.

Feet stop.

Head: Really?

Heart: Really.

My body turned around, my feet walked half a block back to the bird. I leaned down and gently cupped my hands around it. I lifted the bird and saw that it was dead. Its eyes remained open, but there was not even the slightest movement of a feather. I tucked it under a bush. I wasn’t thinking. The act itself felt like a prayer. I took out my phone and snapped a picture. It was just a bird, but it had been living and now it wasn’t. It seemed right to memorialize it in a photo. Then I stood up and began walking home.

Peace coursed through my body. It was an act of compassion, however small.

Heart: Thank you.

Head: Okay, just be sure to wash your hands really well when you get home.

Today, a scripture from my childhood came to mind, Luke 12:6: “Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God.”

We are God’s eyes. We are called to remember. That is how God moves in the world.

mourning dove