don’t laugh

so
a spirit guide
came to visit
in the form
of a sloth
[don’t laugh]
a sloth
who climbed
up
to give me
a hug
climbed me like a tree
for a hug
& i hugged him
[don’t laugh]
feeling his warmth
& feeling okay
just before
he sunk his
long sharp teeth
into my neck
telling me
“shit happens”
a sweet hug
& a mortal
wound…
that about sums
it
all
up.

i have been playing around with doing past life regression ever since i had the vision of myself being a murdered celtic queen. i downloaded a past life regression meditation & the first time i listened to it, i saw myself as a young boy in georgia of the russian empire around the beginning of the 1900s. desolate & lost & alone. jumping forward, i saw myself as a young intellectual in a city. a revolutionary. executed during the russian revolution.
after the regression, i was guided to meet with a spirit guide. the above free verse describes that encounter….
huh.
i have done the regression once since then. i ended up as the celtic girl/woman again. & i had a completely different spirt guide that time. not nearly so gruesome & creepy.
maybe i will do a page about that as well.

& yesterday i conjured a bald eagle! i have started taking walks several times a week to combat my “middle age” bulge. so me & the minions were walking yesterday when misha asked me what a bald eagle looks like. i described one, but she suggested we could look them up on my laptop when we got home.
i replied, “maybe we will see one on our walk!” we live near a small river & not terribly far from a bigger river & occasionally do see bald eagles. however, it has only been a handful of times in the past couple years.
nevertheless, just five minutes later, a bald eagle flew over us.

pretty fucking cool.

& today is iggy’s birthday.¬† he is eleven. i never cease to be amazed by my kids in our “buy-nothing-new” & low-impact lifestyle. misha & poppy wrapped up a bunch of their own toys, cash, & candy¬† to give to iggy. (using the tissue paper that our bamboo toilet paper comes wrapped in.) iggy was thrilled with everything he got.
sometimes i feel like i am doing something right….

IMG_2519

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looking for answers

it was the early nineties when i had the dream.
i had been in therapy for awhile
terrified of the dark &
miserably unhappy
but one day it lifted and like a light switch
i was happy & no longer afraid–of anything
it was around this time i had the dream
was it before?
was it after?
are the two things related at all?

the dream was disturbing
a crazy-ass dream
where i was a mighty warrior
a tiger
and other clans would send warriors to fight me
i would mercilessly slaughter them
sometimes though
the other clans would send me young girls
to be with
as a way of collecting
my seed….

fucked up, right? that’s a fucked up dream for a 21 year old girl in iowa. i have been thinking about it a lot lately. wondering if the dream & my becoming happy & brave, have anything to do with each other. a past life remembering healing a present life hurting.

in the dream, i was represented as a tiger–but i was human. recently, googling like crazy, all i have been able to figure out is that tiger is representative of warriors and the such in china.
so i started reading up on china’s history to see if i can figure out anything about this dream…but i find myself more drawn to the mongols, of course.

i keep looking to so-called professionals & friends, but as usual, no one ever answers my emails. so i guess i’m on my own.
my own master
the answer to my own question.

the above illustration is a sneak peek at my patreon page post for today. i also have a glimpse of this post on longing to open from the other day:

as well as the very first postcard being sent out to a patron!!

oh! & all of these illustrations remind me that today is the spring equinox
balance between day & night…balance between light & dark…balance between rest & change.
wake up, it’s time to grow
happy ostara!

feeling gorey

over on my patreon page i did an art journal page about my dad. somehow, using edward gorey in the illustration seemed to work.
this is the first time i have borrowed from edward gorey–one of my favorite male artists & an early dark influence on my life & art & sense of humor. i was pretty excited about doing it. i might try to do more in the future when my posts are particularly dark & dreary.

i have also done some other art journal pages (on enlightenment &
on ghosting)

as well as another page of “stolen.”

speaking of…i watched warrior queen, a movie about boudica–a celtic queen who kicked roman ass.
i can very much relate to the ancient celtic lifestyle as well as their hatred of romans. does that prove i lived a past life as a celtic queen? who knows. but i am enjoying creating my story about it.

whispered love spells

yesterday as i was driving
i don’t know why
i played & replayed
the song “loverboy” by billy ocean
i do not know how many times
i listened to the song
feeling a pull in my heart
painful & yet…
i kept playing the song
crying along to the lyrics
feeling the pain of it
but enjoying the pain of it?
being an empath
i am never sure if i am feeling what i feel
or feeling what another person is feeling…
in this case, i guess, billy ocean
but
i kept playing that song
then i looked up to see that the semi-truck in front of me
had a sign on the back of it
a picture of a beacon with the word “beacon”
yesterday i wrote about how my heart
has become a beacon
my heart is a beacon…but
i have not taken down the walls
around it
so i am kind of like a lighthouse
warning of the rocks…
i wonder
how do i take down
the walls
how does my heart
become a beacon
of welcoming?

i am still accepting patrons (just a dollar a month!) over on my patreon page where you can read my whispered love spell and see the entire page of this gustav klimpt inspired inking (yay!)

also, two more pages of “stolen,” my art journal adventure as i explore a past life as a kick-ass celtic warrior queen.

stolen & fetish

in addition to working on a collaboration
with benjamin davis
of his story fetish
an illustration i am doing
using my bamboo pen & ink brush

i am working on turning part of me
into a fiction story
a lot like i did
(am doing)
with “fallen”
the story of a 40ish mother who realizes
she is the devil
“stolen”
is a realization
of a past
life
experience

done in my art journal like my other pages
like my other
self-portraits
but different in that one day
it will be a full-length story.
i am pretty excited about it
though as i am inking yet another treasure map
while my fetish pages dry
i realize i have a lot
going on
and expect myself to totally keep up
with all my projects

and i wonder…what makes me think
i can do all this?
who is that
part of me?

(a dollar a dance…i mean, a dollar a month, gets you full page access to these projects and my undying love. yes, a mere dollar a month. that’s like 3 cents a day. surely i am worth 3 cents a day….)

all of me

there was a meeting
& a vote
a consensus
(minus one)
where the nihilist
the fatalist
the realist & the idealist
decided
it was time to do away
with the
optimist
“she fucks everything
up,”
it was agreed
raising expectations
so high
too high
only to see them
crash
when the rest
cannot keep up
don’t even wanna
keep up
leaving everyone
ruined
feeling as if they
were drowning
in that glass
half-full
of unrealistic
dreams
& so
added to the agenda
“how to kill
the
optimist”
…to be
continued….

so i’m not saying that positive thought is dangerous–i am saying that unrealistic positive thought is dangerous.
so, like when i am taking baby steps and things are going good & i am feeling good
but then a little voice pops up and says, “you know, you are so awesome, you should just throw caution to the wind and leap over that bottomless abyss.”
is it optimism? or something entirely different? for the purpose of this page, i have called it optimism. i mean, realism can be positive. and idealism is totally positive. but that part of me that sets me up for failure by making me think i can do more than i can do (or even want to do) that voice has to go.

as much as i admire homesteading. i was perfectly happy doing it in my own small way in an urban setting.
but that little voice was all–no, you should go to the country & go full blast homesteading.
and i did.
now get more & more animals to take care of!
and i did.
and now i am isolated, overwhelmed, and miserable.

so death to the optimist who gives me misleading advice. death.
die die die.

ps. my hair this morning looked exactly like the me smoking the cigar. the “optimist” has the hair-do that she does (two little buns) because i find myself thinking it would be a cute hair thing to do…it’s not. not on me.

ps.ps. i am going through a tremendous energy transformation right now. it was happening already, but then i started reading dodging energy vampires and my world turned upside down.
there will be more on this….

credit to “dogs playing poker” for this illustration

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