Recently, however, I’ve been inclined to add more color ~literally~ to my words. So I followed the lead of many contemporaries and embarked on an art journal  journey. Simple concept, art jornaling: Add images to the ideas. Here is my first entry. I had a really happy day. Can you tell?

I AM ART!

On the agenda:

Plant sunflower seeds (For the third time this season. Why? So the thrashers and bunnies have snackies, it would seem.)

Supply buying trip to Michael’s

A session with Kevin at Plexus Pilates

Make a card for Susan

Press flowers from the garden

New soap in the shower

BE HAPPY!

Paradise has it’s price.

My little bit of the Sonoran Desert is bursting with new life, and it distracts me at every turn.

I’m compelled to wander through my mission garden several times a day in an effort to catch the quail off the nest and sneak a peak at the 11 eggs therein. Excited to see the brown cotton ball babies as soon as they hatch, I check often so as not to miss the big event. Fortunately, the brown turkey figs, which I share with the cardinals, are ripening, so I’m well-nourished on every foray.

On the other side of the house, the yellow finches love the wildflower garden, and obviously ~overtly~  they love each other, too. There’s a whole lot of chasin’ and matin’ goin’ on. And I am, apparently, a voyeur, because I cannot stop watching. The flit, they fly, they dance low in the sky; and I watch every move, regardless of what’s on my morning calendar. I might soon be expert on the mating practices of yellow finches. Just saying.

Then there are the butterflies.  At least 8 different varieties, and lots of them. Honestly… a friend came by one morning, looked out back and said in low, controlled voice, “That is a lot of butterflies. It’s creepy.”

And I’ve developed a personal relationship with nearly all of them. I know the adult food sources and the larval options. I know the plants they prefer, but the sorts they’ll eat if they have no choice. I know way too much about desert butterflies. What did I expect?

I planted a bird and butterfly garden right outside my writing window. It’s in full bloom. Birds and butterflies abound. Caterpillars rapel across my window panes and spiders skitter after them.Then the lizards and roadrunners get into action, hoping for a quick snack or a sip. And I watch. For hours. Lest any of us forget– BULLETIN — I AM a writer!

Some days I worry that I might never write again. But then I’m wont to remember… this is the Sonoran Desert. Temperatures are nearing 110° most afternoons. Soon, the wildlife will retreat to the cooler ends of the days, leaving the middles for writing.

And I AM, after all, a gardener, too. So I’ll enjoy this little bit of paradise, and appreciate what a gift it really is.

Wanna join me?

“Through all the world there goes one long cry from the heart of the artist: Give me leave to do my utmost.”

 ~Isak Dinesen

Oh, Isak, I get it!

I want to write, have to write, intend to write.

Then stuff gets in the way.

Internal. External. Stuff.

Circumstance, thought, diversion, onus…stuff.

Yet The Writing waits.

The Writing sits in the basement of my mind, peering up through the cracks in the floor. It waits for me to open the door, walk through the dark, down the steep, narrow stairs and bring it up. Bring it into the light. Bring The Writing into being.

The Writing waits ~for me~ to write.

Tell me…what is waiting for you? And what are you waiting for?

In poetry,

Truths emerge

That might otherwise

Require

Lubrication,

Stimulation,

Serious social manipulation.

2 Gin Rickeys

Good red wine

Or absinthe over a sugar cube ~

Fine.

But in poetry,

Unprovoked,

Façades fall away,

Barriers break,

Illusions fade to opaque;

And the truth

Jumps onto the page

Big, bold and unashamed

And it declares

I AM.

I am THAT I am.

Henry David Thoreau did it.

So did Jack Kerouac. 

Others include Ernest Hemingway, MFK Fisher, Wallace Stegner, Walt Whitman, John Muir, George Orwell and Jack London.

Aside from being famous and accomplished writers, what  connects these illustrious talents?

 A quest.

During their lifetimes they each undertook a journey, a sojourn into the world, to better understand the human stories, to experience for themselves the worlds within worlds. They left the relative comforts of  lives and routines so they could better tell the tales for which they’re known.

While on these odysseys, each relied on the generosity of family and friends, the kinship of other writers and artists, and the kindness of strangers to provide shelter and creature comforts while they focused on the great works that would later make them famous and enrich the lives of generations to come.

And now, a new talent is on the cusp of emergence.

My friend and fellow writer, Jane Devin, frequently published in The Huffington Post, embarked on a year-long, cross-country journey last October and chronicles her adventure online at Finding My America. Jane blogs regularly, Tweets almost non-stop, photojournals, and speaks before community groups interested in new media and writing. All of this, and she still has time to drive across the country and work on a novel.

Jane’s talent is so apparent that GM is providing her with vehicles and Verizon with phone service. The rest is up to us. Jane usually stays in any one place for two or three days; and she’s thus far been sheltered by generous folks willing to give her a bed and a roof for a few nights. But now, she ventures into a part of the country with no acquaintances and few followers. She could use a little help.

If you’ve ever considered yourself a patron of the arts, consider offering that patronage to Jane. Go to her website. Read her content. Discover what she is discovering and join her on her journey.

And if you feel inclined to offer support, do so. She’ll appreciate it. We’ll benefit.

How often do we misunderstand?

How often offend?

I, thick-skinned woman that I am, take no offense in Twitterville. Not ever. I realize the subjectivity of interpretation when body language, facial expressions and even voice intonations are absent. Way too easy to get the meaning wrong, if only subtly. Not everyone, however, seems to realize this.

Recently, I laughed out loud after reading this Tweet: “I wonder if I should tell people about my Negative Prayer List.”

After reining in my imagination and creating scenarios in my mind regarding the prayers sent up from that list, I let my fellow twitterer know that she’d thoroughly entertained me by commenting back, “Negative Prayer List… too damned funny!”

I don’t know if it was my use of the word “damned” or if she simply perceived my comment as irreverent, but Twitter-friend promptly responded with “My Negative Prayer list is NOT for curses. It’s just an official recognition that someone is not on my Prayer List.”

I laughed even harder.

I mean, really, it takes time and energy to keep a list of people you are going to pray for. And then to actually pray for them is an additional commitment. But also to keep a list of people who will not make the first list seems really labor intensive to me.

What is the actual purpose of this list? Does it remind one to think about the folks one doesn’t want to think about?

Does it help perpetuate grudges and such? Keep the negativity flowing? Add to somebody’s angst?

I replied, “So it’s kind of a ‘You’re Not Worthy’ list. Even funnier!“

She unfollowed me.

How much you wanna bet I made the list?

A sea-change is at hand and creative women are riding it’s waves toward fulfillment. The prevailing economy and socio-political currents prompted us to tighten our belts, recycle, reduce, reuse and return to basics. These same forces also inspired us to re-examine our essential selves and search for meaning and purpose. For many, meaning and purpose are deeply rooted in creation. We are painters, crafters, writers, photographers, binders, builders and believers, who of late, have often drifted in a sea of confused focus.

But… Aha!

Something is in the air.

Thanks to the stars, the moon or some mystical cosmic shift, the tide is turning.  Encouraged by new possibilities on confident winds, we depart the doldrums and venture into the shipping lanes. No longer adrift, many artist friends have renewed enthusiasm for artistic expression and also recognize opportunities to test their entrepreneurial savvy. Navigating uncharted waters and embarking on uniquely individual voyages, artists of all ilks enthusiastically dive deep and follow unfamiliar sea-routes toward the next new world.

It’s a Renaissance of sorts.

And it’s happening everywhere.

Keep your spyglass in hand. Be awakened and aware. Sightings of brilliance are inevitable.

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Here are a few interesting artists, their stories and endeavors:

Jane Devin: One Writer No Address

Veronica McCabe Deschambault at Compost Studios

Art by Chrysti at The Altered Abbey on Etsy

Joanne Vanbezooyen, Designer

Check ‘em out!

She wrote poetry

Exclusively

for

The One.

Her turns of phrase and praise homed in.

After proper humility and gratitude,

She explained her needs

Before invoking strength, absolution, guidance or solution.

She wrote poetry.

For God.

To God.

With Him,

She was most intimate.