An August Night's Dream, in Reality

Under the peach tree
women gathered
an ancient act to perform
a connection to be made

the circle formed slowly
but filled its~self up with us
the beat of the drum began
it called us to turn in~ward
it called us to our sacred selves

doom-da-doom-doom
raised the vibrations
doom-da-doom-doom
sent them out & out

I sat there ingesting
then scribbling
women & drums
drums & women
I felt transported to another place in time
where our Sisters of the past danced in our circle
for our circle & their circle are one & the same
for the reality is that time is a concept in our minds
for there is only ever one infinite moment of right now
where our Sisters of the past danced to our beat
for our beat & their beat are one & the same
for it follows the breath of The Universe
for that is The Great Spiritual Tie that binds us all to one another
just as all our bits of fruit became one glorious & varied feast
We are that glorious and varied feast incarnate
We did not represent the fruit, the fruit represented Us
Our sweetness
Our sour
Our soft pliable insides
Our tougher to get through skins
Our seeds for the continuance of Life
We are the life The Great One gave to Life itself
We are WOMEN
Power~full
yet still unsure, still unaware of our amazing selves
She reminded us: Intention is blocked by Inhibition
I tried to allow my skin to drop down
But when the dance began
I was much too mesmerized to move
watching them
seeing it through ancient eyes
brought me to an experience I'd always wanted to have
Their arms raised in the dance
their bodies, like our egos, bumped into one another
laughter was the result
not anger
not pain
only the sounds of women having fun rose into the heavens that night.

(quote by Ariana)

What I've been doing lately

arting
arting
arting
healing
healing
healing
listening
hearing
sharing
learning
growing
expanding
retracting
bringing peace to my body
listening to drums
drumming in my mind
dancing in front of women I just met
spending more time being my wise woman self
spending less time being my foolish woman self
remembering how tricky the voice in my mind can be
remembering that it doesn't always tell the truth
remembering my wiser self always always always tells the truth
changing the course of my life
opening new doors for myself
stepping through one
and finding myself in a gypsy clan dream

Ya know, sometimes I almost hate to paint them because I fall for their pencil drawn ways.



But then I do and something like this shows up.



I know this more today than ever before:

Creating art is a major part of my journey.