I’ve been redefining myself lately. Into what, I’m not sure but I’m now in my mid-60s and feel like I’m blooming into myself! In an effort to understand what’s happening I’ve been painting a variety of monsters (some of them friendly) and women and imaginary animals. Whatever is happening to me, it feels magical. The world is opening up, my senses are alive, and the wind blows through me.
During this time of chaos and turmoil, I find peace in the rough bark of trees, the dancing scurry of squirrels, the opera of birds, the sun on my face, the canvas of dark night and sparkling stars.
This site is supposed to be about writing, art, and creativity. But I’m so disturbed by current events my creativity is seeping through the cracks of my distress to scream alarms at the people of my nation.
It’s nearly midnight and I’ve already called all the relatives I have in the West a day or two ago because I couldn’t go to sleep on previous nights. I can’t sleep because my country’s politics seem so extreme, so crazy, so like Hitler’s Germany which my Jewish mother fled from in 1938. Now I know what an existential threat is – it feels like the nuclear war will explode any second now, I’m going to step on an ordnance planted on my native soil, someone will suddenly lift a gun to their shoulder and shoot me.
But it is necessary to be optimistic even now. The seeds of destruction of the United States were planted before our independence, with genocide of Native Americans, with slavery of Africans transplanted to this ground, with the oppression of working class and poor people, squashed by the Calvinist ethic that if you are poor, you deserve your fate. At 66 years of age, I am closer to the end of my life than my beginning, and yet I’ve never seen anything like this in my country. Okay, I have. Racism, class discrimination, oppression of women, and approximately 1/4 of our children living below the poverty line, not knowing where they will sleep or if they will eat today.
I am not Charles Dickens, nor John Steinbeck, not even Studs Terkel. The people of the United States either have to resist the rise of an autocratic dictator or we will be crushed.
Hope lies in our independent spirit, our distaste for authority. Getting Americans to rise up may be like herding cats but if we join hands we can maybe find our way to a true fair and equal democracy. If we dream it, it can happen!
#Resist
Today I drew Cybele, the ancient Anatolian goddess of fecundity, of motherhood, of protection. In my mind she is linked with Kali, the Indian goddess of destruction. I seek to channel them, to worship them, to lead to the warmth of the woods and a sunny tomorrow.
Inspiration can come from…anywhere. This sketch was inspired by the shadow of my bathtub faucet when backlit by candles! The shadows created by my hands when I photographed the sketch with my phone added unintended depth!
dream
salt sea foam
clams scurry
dig themselves
into sand
as the waves recede
we are young
i wrap
burgundy and cobalt
gauze scarf
about my torso
my nipples show
i reach out
to touch
your silken sandy curls
as cigarette smoke
sinuously rises
your voice rumbles
weakens my knees
Dark night,
sea seeps into sky.
I make footprints,
sand soft against my soles,
soft against my soul,
dipping my feet
at the ocean’s edge.
First light fills the sea.
Sable brushes
against sky.
Ebony ripples
topped
by pale whitecaps.
Still,
the sea is monotonously calm.
One small wave
lands at my feet.
Clouds fall into horizon.
Sky grows lavender
and pale azure,
flaunts charcoal clouds.
Rain
comes.
I
walk.
East,
stirring of orange glow.
By my right shoulder,
moon peers through clouds.
Sandpipers descend
from
wherever they spend the night.
Feast on
tiny shoreline organisms.
Nimbly avoid
the sweep of waves.
Race forward
and back
from water’s edge.
Skim across the sand
in a motley crew,
in a ballet of
choice
&
fate.
Now,
Bach’s major chords.
Lemon, rose, violet commingle,
create
a path to the horizon.
Clouds consume rising mist.
West light expands.
Sun capers
in cloud mountain peaks,
rises from the sea.
Indigo clouds stretch,
unveil coral cumulous,
so fluffy
I could eat them.
Cloud column rises from sea,
lays against green sky.
Thunder crashes,
booms.
Lightening cracks open sky.
Heat leaps from sand.
Moist
heat
rises,
cocoons me.
North turquoise sky,
dusky blue ocean.
I turn south,
purple horizon,
salmon undercoat,
azure and lemon overlay.
Creation
every day.
above the knoll
of weapons
pale full moon
strangled gently
gaia mouse 