Monday, February 14, 2011

My Heart

Winter has returned.  We have a gorgeous, storm-soaked windy morning.  Inspired thoughts lean into 17 syllables.  I forgot to bring in the garlic basket.  It, the garlic, the strawberry starts and a bag of poppy seeds are all out there with the hoe and two shovels.  I just walked away and didn't give any of them a second thought.  So easy to go back to hibernation.

Beautiful Haiku Morning
Storm in Trees
Labrador Nose-print, Sigh.

Easy to go back inside.  Having not been feeling so great for the past few days, I am so fine snuggling back into comforter and sheets and big dogs.  Listening to the wind chimes and Pines shoooooo-ing, water dripping, long contented hufffffffs, is so nice.  I am grateful to not go anywhere, though this means missing my Beloved Artists' Group.

My Artist's Date this week was a trip to the Grace Hudson Museum, where there is a collection of baskets on exhibit:  American Masterpieces... The Artistic Legacy of California Indian Basketry.

These all ways make me cry.  Their Beauty.  Their Herstory.  Their Joy.  Their Expression.

The Baskets are from "rarely seen Indian basketry collection of California State Parks."  Exquisite comes close to an acceptable description.  

This Little One did a miraculous thing in the photographing.  At home, I up-loaded the shots onto my computer.  I have a series of the Little Lady.  What I didn't notice, as I was focusing on my camera, attempting to get in-sync with the lighting, etc., was that She put a show on for me.  She is Dancing.  Dancing Color, Spirit, Goddess, Love, Beauty, Tears, Motion, Transcending, Life, All Things Female.

The Call to the Studio is timeless.  The Call to the pen, the brush, the fibers, beads, feathers, is perhaps situational as each has Her Life with which to create.  Yet, the Call to the creation is the timeless piece, that which we have done forEver, and will continue to Do.

This little basket makes me weep.  I feel so blessed to have experienced just a tiny increment of Her magical motion through time, across cultures.  The tears bring relief.  Maybe, just maybe, I am experiencing some of the Joy which brought this piece to fruition.

Enjoy this day celebrating Beloveds.


Elizabeth said...

Happy Valentine's Day -- this post is such a gentle, beautiful reminder for artists and writers to nurture ourselves.

Merry ME said...

In a weird so of woowoo way I'm with you on the basket trip. Before going to a Native American show yesterday Sweetie and I stopped by to check on our neighbor who had cancer surgery last week. Of course, they invited us in the door, asked us to sit down and chat. The conversation turned to baskets and I was taken on a short tour of the lady's collection. They were small in number but exquisite in design and artistry. I was thinking this morning wouldn't it be cool to collect a bunch of pine needles and weave them together. How hard can it be? Well looking at your pictures, I'd say there's a whole lot more to basketweaving than I can teach myself!
But oh, they are beautiful aren't they. And I also weep for their beauty and history. Of course, that's no real judge because I weep at most anything these days.

N2 said...

Oh those Baskets! Glad that you took time for that artist's date with another of our dear Artists. See you both this afternoon. I am going to brave the drizzle now and spread some more seed. Valentine's Keeses.

Anonymous said...


Bimbimbie said...

Those baskets are pretty wonderful*!*

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