In the Arthurian legends, they talk about not trapping an animal but trailing an animal because many animals are secretly the bone white moon. Sometimes the moon comes down in disguise and wanders through the forest as an animal; it’s usually a deer. So I’m always aware, when I am trailing an idea it may be a god in disguise.
I am thrilled to announce the publication and release of my first poetry collection, On the Wings of Seasons: A Caregiver’s Journey Through Cancer and Alzheimer’s in Poetry and Prose!
From the back cover:
Though each of us lives through many literal and metaphorical seasons in our lives, it seems we experience many more within the confines of illness. Sometimes the cycles of the natural world mirror that which occurs as we live into and with what is happening in our bodies. These poems reflect the juxtaposition of nature and what is natural: life and death and new life in all forms of created beings.
While the subject is difficult and hard, my intention was that readers will find some hope by the end. Please join me in this life-changing journey.
We are all magnets in an iron globe. We have keys to all doors. We are all inventors, each sailing out on a voyage of discovery, guided by a private chart, of which there is no duplicate. The world is all gates, all opportunities, strings of tension waiting to be struck.
You might see an angel anytime and anywhere. Of course you have to open your eyes to a kind of second level, but it’s not really hard. The whole business of what’s reality and what isn’t has never been solved and probably never will be. So I don’t care to be too definite about anything. I have a lot of edges called Perhaps and almost nothing you can call Certainty. ~
… Keep the channel open. No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.
It’s a terrible thing, I think, in life to wait until you’re ready. I have this feeling now that actually no one is ever ready to do anything. There is almost no such thing as ready. There is only now. And you may as well do it now. Generally speaking, now is as good a time as any.
I don’t have a clue. Ideas are simply starting points. I can rarely set them down as they come to my mind. As soon as I start to work, others well up in my pen. To know what you’re going to draw, you have to begin drawing… When I find myself facing a blank page, that’s always going through my head. What I capture in spite of myself interests me more than my own ideas.
Pablo Picasso, in CONVERSATIONS WITH PICASSO by Brassaï
Crone, hag, and witch once were positive words for old women. Crone comes from crown, indicating wisdom emanating from the head; hag comes from hagio meaning holy; and witch comes from wit meaning wise. Crones, hags, and witches frequently were leaders, midwives, and healers in their community … The Crone Movement … is re-claiming the positive meaning of these words.
Reclaiming the Wise Woman meme on Facebook (h/t WG)