Apparently I have been too busy to surf, blog or post because I've felt the pull but haven't got to it. So today's post is a brain download. I haven't anywhere to send you other than into the reaches of my own experience.



Last week I was walking back to the apartment and noticed a man with a cane stumbling, or more accurately poking his way into the street on 28th between Lexington and Park.

I walked up and asked if I could help. I noticed he was wearing the bright ikats of Africa both on his head and in his dress. His eyes were thick and white. When he said yes, he was going to the downtown train, I took his arm and started walking him there.

I asked his name and he said Richard, I told him mine and he laughed a bit, "Richard and Riva", he said. The time passed so quickly, too quickly for me. Richard was walking fast, his cane moving rapidly right and left, and he was leading me more than I him. He drifted right and I brushed along side the buildings. I let him know outloud when we came to the corner and he had to step down. I struggled with the word for "island" to describe the step up and down in the middle of the street we needed to take. My mind was totally engaged in trying to negotiate what I saw and translate for him in a language he might understand. I knew from the class I'd taken with blind students for my black belt test that the best way to communiate to the blind is simply to speak. They can't see if you show. My instinct is to show in touch, but words are good guideposts and I reached for them in ways that one isn't accustomed to on a daily basis. By the time I'd gotten him down the stairs and into the turnstile of the Downtown 6 I was exhausted with effort, and even as I turned to go, asking "are you alright now?" and hearing him shout a jubilant "yes, thank you!" I wished there were a way to prolong the meeting.

While we were walking he told me he was a musician, and played the flute. I had just recently started learning to play a Native American flute I'd purchased almost 15 years ago. A flute that has begun to teach me my soul songs and connect me with an inner self that has always been with me, though not always so close to the surface, not always so accessible. Walking home I wondered if Richard might have been a teacher sent me and I'd missed the opportunity to ask that vital question.

He'd asked me if I knew a good Indian place to eat, there in little India, but I admitted we didn't really eat Indian food that much. Funny I wondered since Larry is a vegetarian, and these inexpensive Indian restaurants surround us.

Richard said he lived on the upper west side and someone had told him he could get good spices at Curry in a Hurry. Which is really a restaurant not a spice shop, but I imagined someone must have guided him next door to the appropriate place. I worried how he would arrive at his next stop at the train, but knew in my heart that either someone else would offer their hand, or Richard would find his way, quickly exploring with his cane, unafraid to bump into walls or trees, or step down into the gutter of life.

In ancient journey folklore, born of the act of pilgrimage, it is customary to travel with gifts. The first person one meets when setting out is a sacred touchstone with an important message. I wondered what Richard might have shown me had we had a few moments more.

networking

Two weeks ago I co-hosted a workshop at the Highland Cultural Center with Ann Haaland and Elisa Pritzker. It is always so great to meet other artists and have the sense that one is understood and connected. There's a shorthand of language about what we do and why. No difficult explanations. Short sweet sentences get the message across. And there's no blank look in the others' eyes. But, as I think I mentioned in passing conversation there, often what we percieve to be blank stares are really not misunderstandings, but complete awe and rapture. Non artists are amazed at what we do. So next time someone seems to be somewhere else when you are talking about your work, entertain the thought that that blank look in their eyes is love, or something like it.



Ann's website is annhaaland.com

Her work is just beautiful and an inspiration to those of us who are still grappling with web presence and professional presentation of our work.



Tonight I am off to a Burning Man event in New York with Bman founder Larry Harvey. The Rabbi, The Reverend and The Renegade is about spirituality, community and activism. Visit burningman.com for all you need to know about this amazing annual alternative art community built in the Black Rock Desert every year. The event I'm attending tonight is a bit of a touchstone for me, as I have not yet figured out a way to get myself to the playa this year.



Have a beautiful day.

the drawing center

The exhibitions at The Drawing Center in Soho are always amazing and the show that is currently on is particularly so. If you think of drawing as being something done with pencil and paper, this show will open your eyes and mind to a new range of possibilities outside that single dimension.



http://www.drawingcenter.org/current.htm



On my way there I noticed hanging in the windows of one of the Soho boutiques, some of the most amazing art dolls I've ever seen. The artist apparently works in clothing and still lifes as well. The artists name is Manon Gignoux and lives in Paris, but there's really nothing much on the web. So I will for now have to content myself with the work I saw in the store. There were also still lifes in old suitcases, a salt and pepper shaker wrapped in sweater like garb, a clothed bowl and other beautiful objet d'art.

Monday morning

Reading this was a salve this morning as I return to the work week:



http://www.bearingwitnessjournal.com/story.htm?story=VKVXJI



I got there from here:



http://www.spiritualityhealth.com/newsh/items/home/item_216.html



And I'll let you know where else I've landed later in the day.

getting out of the way

One of the most amazing experiences I've had since returning to work and New York City life after Omega is the resistance I've sensed in myself, the walls that start to go up unconsciously.



I've had a few moments where good things were happening, but because they were different, not the usual fare, I found myself resisting. And it took quite a bit of thinking to actually breathe and allow for the acknowledgement that this was in fact exactly whatI had been asking for. Both were work related situations that take me out of the reach and realms of an individual I have some difficulty working with. Both give me a greater degree of autonomy, ease of work and working relationships. Even more money. All things a blessing.



And once again I am reminded of the bounty of the universe and the amazing things that come when one has an open heart. The trick is to stay open. It is difficult and I feel myself hardening daily, vs. the softening I felt as each day melted into me at Omega.



It's been a busy two weeks, with not much downtime. Little time to create art, although thanks to my Omega getaway, I have a great new system set up for the installation piece I am working on. It's all in a box in the living room so when I get home for the weekend, it's within easy reach and I can meditate in the making without the production of getting ready to work. It's all ready to go, and I'm always ready. It's a great insight for future projects, that is, to create a mini work bin situation that allows me to work at a moment's notice. My studio at this point is so crammed and cramped, working there is impossible. It's more a storage space for all the materials. I can either spend time reorganizing or working, and I prefer to work!

mail art

Here's a link to an exhibition in the UK to which I sent a mail art submission. The theme was: Is Mail Art Dead?, and I haven't been able to find a pic of my submission, but I really love how the show was hung. Also, link to the site of emma powell, one of the curator's, who invited me to participate. (Reminder, until I figure out how to link, you'll have to cut and paste.)



http://homepage.mac.com/emma_powell/is_mail_art_dead/PhotoAlbum53.html



http://www.rejectamenta.com/



This week's personal lesson was about not rushing. I started running to catch a bus, something I never do -- and ended up tripping on my too long pants, and falling on one of those subway grates in the side walk.

As I lay in bed last night trying to fall asleep, I realized I didn't have an appendage that didn't hurt. Between chronic karate injuries, and these new minor traumas, I'm hobbling around and very aware of the gift of mobility, arms, legs, even the fingers I'm now using to type this.

The evening I actually tumbled, I lay on the couch thinking about how upset kids get when they fall and scrape their knees, and not really remembering my own childhood falls so much, as having compassion for how traumatizing it is. Your whole body gets shaken up. You're really not sure what has happened. And then there's the heart racing fear...Maybe there's a metaphor in all this for the daily tumbles and falls we take. Of course we get up, brush ourselves off and get on with things, but what's the big rush. My evening at home nursing my wounds was good therapy. Just wish I'd followed my heart home, instead of trying to catch a bus to get to a karate class I didn't really want to go to, before I took the fall.

too busy for my life

Two weeks after returning from Omega I still haven't had time to either process all the enlightenment or look for new paths for inspiration. But here is a link to painter Stacie Flint's website. stacieflint.com Stacie attended the Sacred Balance workshop at the Highland Cultural Center, which is hosting an artist's networking party this Saturday from 11 to 2. Hope to see you there, at Casa del Arte. For more information pritzkerstudio.com or hccarts.org

Re-entry

It has taken a few days to get here. Being disconnected from technology for two weeks has been a great blessing. And I find myself wanting to remain longer in the quiet of the country, far from the glare of the tv and computer screen. But my connection to you who read these entries is the point after all. And I gladly embrace my return to this.

My artist in residence at Omega was a deeply moving experience, two full weeks of deeply moving experiences. It is astonishing to realize that one can make such intense connections with others in two short weeks. So much so that you can't imagine not seeing, hearing, and being with them. This was particularly true of my bond with the woman who was essentially my manager but felt more like a light along a path. To learn so easily from another is a sacred lesson. And to be guided without overtones of authority but of shared, mutual interest, integrity and the good of the whole. But above all, almost without intention, and simply in the sheer ease of being, being present, being in the moment.

At Omega, one is living in community and learning when to disconnect from the hive in order to replenish oneself is another essential lesson. One that I hope I can integrate into my life more fully.

But perhaps the most important lesson has been this: upon returning to a life I was not so eager to step back in to, I am experiencing the love and spirit I encountered at Omega, and thought was left behind. Today is my birthday and I have been gifted with so many touching sentiments and little gifts at the office, that I am truly overwhelmed.

My heart is opened and I hope I can somehow share that opening with you in the coming days.