Chrysalis Inn

This is a journal page I made a few weeks past, inspired by a poem written by my good and talented friend, David.  I have his permission to share the poem with you here.  I hope it speaks to you as it did to me.

There is no sign saying

"Welcome to the Chrysalis Inn."

That's where I am sleeping now.

That's where I stay,

not yet dreaming butterfly dreams,

but dreams of change, nontheless.

What caterpillar ever really knows

what's locked inside its genes?

But while I dream,

I still work magic,

I still write words,

I still see visions.

I am my own Messiah.

David Lintner 2000.0123/r2007.1109

Today has not been especially kind, nothing major, just a bout of angst. I love that word, angst. It makes this experience seem like dark, romantic literature. "Oh", she said collapsing on the fainting couch, the back of her dainty hand lightly resting on her pale forehead. "Why must I suffer this angst?"  See, it makes feeling all edgy seem glamorous. 

Revisiting this poem, however, made me feel rested, safe and whole.  Wishing the same for you.

Ok, I just posted Frogs and Fish and for some reason the dates are all goofey on the blog. Look back two to see today's post. ????

Whatever happened to...

those Personal Ads with the wonderfully cryptic messages that used to be in the classified section of the newspaper? I loved reading them and used to search the paper in hopes of finding them.  Then I could dream and imagine what their story was.

"Looking for Joe from the Dew Drop Inn. Call me. Wanda." Or "We met Sat at matinee. Call me. Blond in green." Or "Uncle Joe dead. Come home at once."

Seems there were a lot more of those when I was a kid. No email then and no google search for finding just about any one I guess. Do you ever see these in your local paper anymore? I'm curious.

Anyway, because I have a very demanding friend who has whined and complained that I mention every one but him in my blog, I will leave him a message. "Ken, Sun ten am at wallys is on."

He claims he reads my blog.  We'll just see, won't we?

More later.  Gotta go pay bills, even though I'd much rather play here.

  

Fish and Frogs

While I have been painting and visual journaling for only a short time, I have kept written journals and crafted stories and poems for years. I am working on posts of a trip to D.C. and a recent flight on the Goodyear Blimp, but for today, here are two poems inspired by my fascination with fish and frogs. These poems, by the way, reflect actual events. I have lead a most magical life.

Fish Talk

One cold and rainy night,

exhausted from a long
day at work then hours of class

at the University

in the City, I boarded
the very last bus to
my home in the suburbs.

Sometime into this long

and miserable journey,

I looked up to see a

disheveled and wild eyed

young man standing at my seat.
He asked, could sit with me?

Surprised, a bit mesmerized
I moved my coat and books

from the seat beside me
and he sat down. We rode

in silence, shoulders nearly
touching. Then, quietly,

"Do you dream in the night?"

Though uneasy, I nod yes.

"What did you dream last night?"

So intimate, this question,

I tremble but answer, "Fish."

"People who dream of fish are
sensuous", he mutters.

We traveled on in silence

to my stop. I saw him

often. He always saved me
a seat on the empty bus.

I always took it though
we never shared a glance
or spoke another word.

lm 2007

Amorous Amphibian

I shine my flashlight in the pond

and search for the monster who

makes such a big noise.

Sometimes he feels most generous.

His gift, allowing me to see him

all puffed up.

Quite confident in his courting best.

Small in stature, but

large in voice, heart and lust.

His throat grows and he exhales
his longing. Some nights he is joined

by fellow bachelors

and the patio resounds

with their hopeful serenades
of passion and longing.

Flirty fellow,

I miss his ardent love songs

when romance wins and he has a date.

lm 2007

And the husband and I had breakfast this morning with Ken! I knew you would want to know. The food was awful and over priced but the patio seating is very pleasant and it was good to see Ken again. He is an accomplished Executive Recruiter (aka headhunter) who has moved to Arizona. We have been friends for 20 + years and he likes to say that he's taught me everything I know. (There, Ken, you are now properly mentioned on my blog. Enough with the complaining already!)

Hello! It's hard to believe how long it's been since I've blogged. But, I haven't forgotten about any of you, in fact, I've been secretly visiting. My days have not been idle. I'm sure by now you have noticed the new header. This is a posterized version of a photo taken of the house at Trails End shortly after it was built in 1915. Notice the lack of vegetation? Over the years, it seems that nature and owners have been busy planting. If it still looked like this photo fires would be of little concern.

Art! Art! Art! I have been having wonderful fun with paints and photos, journals and friends. This first offering is unfinished. I want to put something symbolic and wonderfully mysterious in each corner near His Angelness. Still cooking that idea. He is my rendering of a wonderful wooden carved santo with metal wings that a friend gave me. I love him.


Although I have been traveling and having great adventures, these journal pages seem to suggest a bit of the shadow hanging around. Don't you love it when you start painting and cutting and pasting and writing and suddenly realize that you have just set free something that has been shivering, unseen, in the cellar? That and playing around with image altering software gave me this. Here, the muse dipped her brush into a deep well of angry frustration. I love the way it looks backlit.

A few days later, I was playing with some wonderful pages out of old, old books that an antique dealer friend brings to me. The quality of the paper and printing is absolutely transporting. And the smell, ummmmm. I know many of you know exactly what I'm talking about and are smelling it right now. Here's what came out of that. Don't ask me about the eyes on the finger tips. I have no clue. But it sure feels right. Oh, just a warning, don't read the little paste ups if you are feeling a bit down. This piece came from the basement!
Then there is this. I have been dreaming of snakes for over a month. Snakes are a common dream theme for me and usually represent wisdom that comes from taking risk. Snakes stand for wisdom in many mythologies, and while they are often portrayed as the enemy of woman, they are also befriended and tamed by women. This rings true for me and carries an enormous charge. Since we have moved to the ranch, I have had to learn to live with rattlers. Somehow, as much as I'm not crazy about this, it feels like something that needs to be in my life. This is the representation of a dream image that came complete with the instructions and explanations written. I actually dreampt this entire page.

P.S. I've always had great dreams. Back when I had my consulting practice, I used to dream entire seminars complete with illustrations and workbook lakyouts! I'd jump up in the morning and get to the computer before I lost it.

Looking this over before hitting the "publish now" button, I realize this post is a bit bizarre.
I hope I don't lose any of you. I'm perfectly safe, really.

Ok, I've been working on this post all day. Between blogger's unwillingness to cooperate and my weakness for distraction today, I'm surprised it's up.

Peace and wisdom to all.