Favorite Haunts

How different it is returning to the location of a childhood memory after the lapse of years. What seemed to be a place of grand and important dimension is seen as quite normal in proportion to its surroundings. The playground that appeared to stretch to infinity with magical fluidity is after all—small. The neighborhood street lined with homes on either side; well the houses look smaller than remembered.

In a few days I will be returning to the city where I grew up. Washington DC is "The Nations Capital." It will be my first time there in about twelve years. I have four days. Enough time to revisit some old hang outs, like Georgetown, the Phillips Gallery, the Mall with its monuments, the National Gallery and more. My brother is hosting me and I am eager to be included into his family life, and especially to become more familiar with my niece and nephew.



After DC I will arrive in Paris, and stay on the left bank in a small boutique hotel I prefer. I won't have time to make paintings. Instead I will go to Versailles by train, visit museums and spend hours doing my street photography—wandering around in an altered mental state I call being in "the zone."

From Paris I go to my home away from home—Venice, Italy. After one month its south into Africa.

I am packing my art supplies and a easel along with a new camera and tripod. Must bring my laptop and gear. So not much room for clothes.

Now, the memories I create in life will not diminish in size if I return later. Some places, like Venice and Paris and Egypt are favorite haunts . . .

Surrounded By Spirits

I am surrounded by spirits, and that is the feeling of the Lord.  —Naomi Boone

I love this simple sentence written in my daughter's journal when she was seventeen. She had learned she was dying of cancer.

She felt the power of angels—emissaries of God, sent to strengthen and guide her.

I am practicing remembering the feeling of the Lord as I prepare to go on another extended journey across continents, leaving everything behind to go into the "flux" state I so love. I will "let go". I thrive with the feeling of falling like the little bird pushed from the safety and familiarity of it's nest. A miraculous and hidden power informs the moment so what is needed occurs—to fly.

SPIRIT can take a flock of birds and direct them to determine Earth's magnetic field so they navigate using true north. During the day time they are guided by the position of the sun. Are they doing this mentally? Birds sometimes fly while sleeping during non-stop trips that can take weeks. No, they are not thinking; SPIRIT moves them to arrive unerringly to their destination.

And so too, I hope to leave the mental arena and go into what I call the zone. Like the falling bird, I go from the familiar into the unknown and rely on trust. Surrounded by spirits and guided by them, barriers fall away and I am no longer separate from my surroundings. In oneness, I enter THE DREAM, where miracles live and occurrences become fantastic.

I leave Santa Fe on November 1. First stop is Washington DC, (where I grew up,) to see my brother Wade and his family. I especially relish spending time with my young niece and nephew who barely know me. After four days I fly to Paris, France and book into a hotel on the left-bank for another four days. Time in the streets and museums, being inspired,  shooting photographs and going with the flow . . . day tripping to Versailles. Next I arrive in my favorite place . . . Venice. For a month. It is easy being creative there . . . making paintings, writing and photographing. Next is Egypt. In Luxor I have Egyptian friends that make a place for me in their family. After that it gets fuzzy: but most likely I will go and find the Masai people who had such a big impact on me. They are in Kenya and Tanzania.

I do not have a return ticket. SPIRIT and THE DREAM will direct me and that is how I like it.

Everything will be okay, because God is with me no matter what.  —Naomi Boone

Wallflower

There is an expression . . . have you heard it? A person referred to as a "wallflower". An example is the young woman at a lively social gathering where music plays. She is dressed beautiful and is sweet, yet sits to herself while girls around her are whisked by young men onto the floor for fun and laughter.

Most likely, everyone at some time in life has felt left out. Oh well. We stay in our core, love ourselves and continue to show up. Then a magic moment comes when a special someone is attracted to join together with the lonely one. The qualities are affirmed and embraced.

 This happens with my paintings. Work has shown for years—seen but passed over. Then one day a special someone falls in love and says, "I must take it home, it speaks to me."

This happened twice in the last three days. Both paintings had been showing for two years before selling.

This also happened with the one below. It was "asked to dance" many times but never became engaged with anyone. Recently it got married to an art lover in Colorado and went home.

Songs Of The Spirit

Caye Caulker, Belize

When I leave the United States in a few weeks, it will be an inner journey as well. Landscapes, peoples, climates and customs will differ as I visit France, Italy, Egypt and other parts of Africa. Like in a dream, fantastic surprises will come. A kaleidoscope spinning produces new chance combinations of light, shape and color. So will be my experiences. What paths to follow?

"Listen with heart and soul to the songs of the spirit, and treasure them as thine own eyes." —Baha'u'llah

Paris

Before I left home on my first circle of the globe, I had a dream where I heard a pronouncement spoken into my left ear: "The vessel he entered was a grand confusion between his world, and the world outside him." I awoke immediately, contemplating the prophecy concerning my upcoming sojourn yet puzzling over the words.

Granada, Spain

The strange divination proved true. From the start, beginning with my arrival in the all black community of Dangriga, Belize, I felt as if I stepped into DREAMING. My province became unknown and surprises occurred with each hour and day. All became a grand confusion between my world and the world outside. Borders fell. I happily abandoned former identifications, such as nationality, race, social stature, religion, etc. Oneness prevailed.

I came to call it THE DREAM.

Inspired By Ordinary People

When you were born, you cried and the world rejoiced. Live your life so that when you die, the world cries and you rejoice.  -Cherokee Indian proverb

I often am inspired by ordinary people who make the most of life.  Like Albert, the old man who arrives at my health club. He is almost a hunchback and walks bent over almost in half. He is cordial with everyone and smiles. In the locker room he always shares a new joke. In the swimming pool he jogs in the water, sometimes stopping to tell another joke to someone. His warmth will make a stranger smile. Albert likes to lift people with laughter.

Another guy shows up walking slowly, painfully, with legs swollen from rheumatoid arthritis. Furthermore, his eyes are failing. He is younger than me. We have chatted at times, and I learned he teaches philosophy. The other day I got dressed by my locker. Putting on my shirt, just as my hand came out from the sleeve it poked him in the nose as he was passing by from behind me. We both laughed. I like that he laughed about it.

I go to Starbucks for coffee. The shop is just a block from my gallery. A woman in her thirties works there and sometimes when I am in line, I watch the staff. I found I liked this person especially. She is husky and a bit overweight, but attractive and a good worker. A while ago I was in line and when the woman in front of me was about to order I heard a brief conversation between the two. The Starbucks woman explained that she is pregnant with twins. The father is out of the picture. She will have to go to Colorado to be near her sister soon. That was about two months ago and since then I have talked with her a bit. She is getting very heavy with two babies inside, and works just as hard. One day I gave her 40.00 dollars and told her I appreciated her showing up at work with a positive attitude. She beamed and told me I was sweet and, "made her day."
Today I went in for coffee and waited in line. She was busy and did not see me while somebody else served the coffee. Before turning to go I called out to her. She looked up and smiled broadly. It was like the sun coming from behind clouds, brightening the room with dazzling light.

Later, I took a break and went outdoors on the plaza and sat on a bench near a guy who was entertaining people by blowing balloons—then stretching them into marvelous shapes. He dressed modestly and kept up a banter among passers-by. A little boy came up, wide eyed. The balloon man asked what he wanted, "an animal, space ship, bow and arrow?" The boy stood speechless. "I know, how about a sword?" The boy nodded. Within moments, a purple sword was handed over. "But wait," the magician said. In one fluid movement he made a circle of a balloon and pulled it down over the child's head, then twisted it at his waist. Taking the sword from the boys hand he put it in the newly formed scabbard. The boy lit up and breathless with excitement ran across the plaza to his parents. "Wow," I said, "he was too excited to say thank you!"

Within moments, the boy and his little sister were coming back. As he approached I called to him, "Are you going to say thank you?" Sheepishly he said the words, almost under his breath. Soon the man had made the little girl a flower and presented it to her as if to a queen. The children ran off again. No money had exchanged hands. Pulling out my wallet I gave him a bill. "Oh gosh, thank you!" he said, "I depend on donations."


No sir, thank you !