Sacred Places

JULY 20, 2020

My most sacred place
Takes a ritual of steps
Patience…
Deep breaths
Getting quiet

The lighting of a candle
Smoke and Smoldering
of Sage

I call on my spirit guides, Zebra, Yellow Bird
The energy of my ancestors
I silently talk to the universe
“I am here”

And crystals; Pink quartz
A Beautiful amethyst (the color of my mom)
A carved angel from Judi
A striped feather from Linda
An iridescent piece of abalone
And my tiny brass Buddha

I walk the sage
Circle three times
Asking the universe
“See me”

Choosing the sheets (of paper)
Do I want thick or thin?
My hands land on a sheet
A small piece
Thick ragged edges
I love it

Opening the Pans (of paint)
In my own sacred case
Rests pans of every color
A mist of water
wakes them up!

Then time disappears
dips out of sight, or
Blends with the light
I am no longer thinking
I am human, being
I am in process
My Sacred Place

Wet paint on the wet sheet
I’m mesmerized
as color spreads
Blends, moves slowly

My breathing and heartrate slow, too
I like the edgework;
the place where color stops
And shape is defined
The place where colors cross
And new colors emerge

Getting out my magic bottles
Of rich India Ink
Adding ink, point by point
Finding those edges
Where color and paper meet

More spray
Mesmerized by the Sacred patterns
Of India Ink
Roots spreading wide
Flowing through the mist

Surely THIS is the universe
Making itself known!

People often share
what they see in art.
Their eyes dart to mine,
Looking for confirmation

Art is not what you see.
Art is what you feel, when you see
Art is the universe
Making itself known.