Sticks and Stones are My Bones

Camping, part II.

I did a lot of sitting by the river, letting the clear mountain water strip away the banality of my stress. And I picked up sticks. Long straight ones, shorts curved ones, all washed clean by the river, all bright shining in the sun.



When my collection was great enough (and yes, they were perfectly organized by size and shape) I began to build. Meditative processes work for me like a labyrinth: As I progress, I leave behind the noise in my head and move toward a state of quiet in which I can acknowledge the spirituality of a place. Distractions no longer exist, in their place a beautiful recognition of space takes over.



When I was finished, the nest remained (through the rest of the week, each day disintegrating a little as the wind striped off the tiniest of twigs) and I was left with internal calm and great thankfulness.

Rejunvinated by Redwoods

With a sigh, I am home. My soul feels full, replenished, but a little saddened by leaving the giant trees which surely house my heart. Because I feel a short of words to tell you about my trip, I will leave a list I wrote one day while camping.



June 19th 2008
Today I...

Listened to the wind ruffling the rhododendrons (and thought of Devon). Thought there is nothing more truthful than a great Redwood. Saw the newest growth of a swordfern, all tiny fingers, kinked and uncurling. Loved the word "opportunist" when applied to a Steller's Jay (who knew they made so many different calls?). Realized how much I was like a Redwood Sorrel, bright and shining in the shade, full of color and stimulation, retreating, folding up when the sun's rays beat down too severely. Felt the welcome of the trees, an embracing of kinship. Felt the warning of the trees, where I did not belong. Counted four footbridges, all rustic. Conversed with a rabbit, greeted a chipmunk, startled a quail, respected a raven.

Mum, this one is for you

Well, I'm off to go explore the wilds of Northern California for a week, to breath deep the ancient redwoods, touch the history of river rocks and eat like there's no tomorrow. And I will do it all with flowers in my hair.

Organization and Toes

I played a game tonight called "How much orange can I see." It may have been biased by my lovely new toes but I was amused all the same.


I've learned about how I learn in this past year (yes, thank you Miss CRM) and it has been oh so interesting. While I am not always the MOST organized person alive, and do suffer from the unending chaos of watercolor paper piled over linen piled over show announcements, piled over random bits that might end up in a painting, I have a selective love of extraordinary order. This comes out in silly places like my bookshelves (yep, every book is color coordinated - and has nothing contextually to do with the books next door) and my closet (a perfect rainbow spectrum) and little vignettes that I create around the house (how many times can I make one in turquoise?).

There is just something so satisfying to me when I can line up colors and shapes and sizes. You really should try it.