Pink Coyote

funday report

As promised. A trip to the ice cream cafe that has served the fertile valley for almost a hundred years: Dewars. It was baby Miles first trip and he immediately picked up the scent of whole fat dairy and hand turned marshmallow creme. The lights at Chuck E. Cheese were too rainbowneurotic to ignore. My child and I were equally thrilled by the prospect of skee ball where we, unsurprisingly, totally ruled.

The Chocolate Covered Banana of Ill Repute.

Uncle Godfather and Miles in front of a portrait of Diego Rivera at the local art museum, where a doctor's private collection of Mexican and South American pieces currently hang.

You said it.

Hold onto your canzones because the last day of every month is now officially known as Funday. I'll remind you ahead of time and you can post your photographic evidence at your own blog. Think of it as our communal little way of being accountable for having some yuks, realtime. Stay tuned for instructions...

spt

i like to fisheye (as best i can with this compact camera) my forehead when i sp. maybe i think my brain looks bigger. my hair is nesty and i likely have not showered in a couple of days. miles is teething and slobbering all over my shoulder, so sometimes i wear one of his bibs around my pencilneck and throw it over my shoulder like a cape. on this day, i felt like a dorky superhero and took to flinging the bib over my back and sticking my arms straight out in front of me like superman and zooming about. i have a freckle on my nose that i got when i sunburned really badly at lake havasu. my nose crusted over when the blister went down and when it eventually peeled off, this nice big melanomic freckle was left as a reminder of how drinking cocktails and sunbathing in the desert don't mix.

fun

bulb setting fun with the canon powershot A510

this is the last day of february, and also, self portrait tuesday, which i usually remember on wednesday. so in the spirit of all of this-i am declaring today a day of FUN. i will post my portrait in a little while and later tonite or tomorrow i will post my list of fun things i have done. i am now hereby accountable to say it out loud: i'm doing something fun today. especially because yesterday was such a day of hellish winds and rain, leaky windows and sand in my eyes. curses! won't you join me?

in the sacred quiet

miles loves to drape his silky bunny across his head and then peek out. we are closing on our mountain house in the next few days. this morning i got the familiar feeling of dreading change come over. believe me, i do not want to stay where we are now. but it is interesting to observe what shifts in my comfort zone when i set out to change something big. the step beyond complaining. i relax, the complaining/frustration slows. then comes the jump into the change. cold feet! i have difficulty not knowing what the future holds (now where did i put my crystal ball..?) and then the change comes true and i adjust my feelings gradually. a positive move is exciting, possibilities stir... life is smaller here, but so much more full. i have heard the messages brought to me by this experience and they will help me in my quest for meaning. i love locking the puzzle pieces together and moving on to the next phase of things. today: colors are brighter the air is sweeter. lingering is not on the books. except for in this moment.

hey... brother

To my dearest (okay, only) brother Donnie, Deej, Deeter, Booger Lee. He who is Uncle Godfather and Keeper of the Stories and of the Birds. Today is my brother's twenty ninth birthday. Yep, he's single. When we were kids we would scissor off the legs of my mother's pantyhose, put wadded up socks in the toe of them and beat each other about the bodies for fun. I love you, you plunger waivin' ninja. XO

little miracles

miracles come in many forms. what does your miracle look like?

overlapping

The Real Work It may be that when we no longer know what to do We have come to our real work. And that when we no longer know which way to go We have come to our real journey. The mind that is not baffled is not employed. The impeded stream is the one that sings. -Wendell Berry

I stole this quote straight off of dear Swirly's site today because I truly believe it deserves repeating. I burst right into tears upon reading it because it is another one of those days, you know the ones, when I feel stripped of my physical and emotional reserves and unable to perform in the manner required of me.

I sometimes feel like being at the end of my rope is something that happens too frequently to me. If I'm at the end today, how could I bear much more? And then some days pass and I know that I could take more, because I did take more.

Having a baby and all that goes with can be difficult at times. No one tells you that the first time your baby gets really sick, you will be tested in many ways you may not have been able to foresee.

I know we'll make it through. There will be sleep again. And my shoulders and back will find their proper alignment again. And the sun will shine and we can go back to making merry.

But sometimes, when I'm right in the middle of it all, I'm not even looking for the end, I'm just trying to find a branch to cling to, before the river sweeps me down with it. Just in this moment, these are my feelings-that a wide and rushing river threatens to yank me from my safe shoreline. For a moment, I teeter, I feel the fear urgently tug. I know I'll feel differently tomorrow. Strength will return, emotional reserves will replenish.

This is just how I feel right now.

creating for balance

lilcat, 2006.

hello my dears,

what are you creating today?
how, if possible, will your action bring balance to your day?
what wants to be born?
what energy are you drawing on?

any minute now

miles will awaken, the shiny, spoked wheel will begin turning again. but at this moment, frozen in a feeling or a few, of being loved and understood, of feeling valuable and wise and a wee bit high though still wearing my glasses and tuesday's hair and needing to apply natural deoderant that seldom works anyway. outside the temperature has dropped, but the sun is still shining, my baby's got a cough, and the most creative thing i have done all day is make a shop list in my head from the art supply catalog in my hand and reheat my coffee two or three times. i want to beam out possibilities of still*ness and lingering lovedust and an urgent suggestion to go to maya and read her incredible words, soak up as many as you can....

quicklove

i am a slave today, so a photo is the best i can give.....xoxo, offering you peace.....

good valentymes

loverboys on the farm, feb 2006.

it simply does not get any better than this.

more on fear and labels

The incredible B taking Michelle surfing for the first time. Pismo, 2005. wow! this territory is far too rich to stop now. in the last post, wendy replied and posted a link to the book art and fear, which i highly recommend for any of you who are really struggling with fear in lieu of getting to the act of creating.

many inspired and caffeinated conversations with the amazing musician B this weekend, gets me thinking more about keri's "your life is yourart" motto. i think i finally get it.

cut to saturday morning breakfast: early, fat blueberries bobbing in pancake batter, laughing, music, fake sausage, happy overmedium perfect eggs-the perfect moment. i've just finished reading the gift of the bit of pam houston that swirly sent, so i'm breathing in the concept of stringing moments in a line. two hours later yield a dogfight and a torn ear, a muddy pantleg, a gypsy riff, a patio table family brainstorm and an aha! about the wise fool, an explosive poo (miles, not me!), giggling, a gnat in the butter, a dadism, and more giggling. flashback to houston's words from the chapter entitled defining success:

"...language: poems and scripts, the way every minute of my life that matters
translates itself into the words that I write, the way writing sanctifies the
best times and makes the dark times possible to bear. I am writing every moment
i am living."

or painting, or collaging, or whatever. to be an artist is to be an inspired individual. we take our moments, as varied as they are, and set to weaving them and then the resulting piece, even just a blog entry or journal sketch that no one will ever see, is the sanctification of that string of moments. so you see, if we call ourself author or painter, it really doesn't matter. the label is just the part that tells us how we have chosen to make our living, how we'd like to be known for our work or selling it. and making a living takes time, but it cannot claim all of the room in our consciousness. there must be room for dogfights and explosive poo and perfect eggs. these moments and experiences, those we choose to create and those we don't, inspire our true work in life, as ARTISTS: people who feed the world back, in our translated version, what we experience. it does not matter what we call ourselves. without us, the world gets dusty and forgetful!

focusing on the work, say, if you want to write a book, because that outward manifestation will make you really proud, that is work. but it cannot happen without the ongoing circle of sketching and talking and savoring flavors and changing diapers. all we do is connected to the outward manifestation, the work.

i leave you today without a title, a label, a word that cannot possibly encompasse your range of interests and passions. think of what you have to exclude in order to bear the title. i encourage you to acknowledge everything that you do, to let it inform your journal, your sketchbook and lead you to your next brilliant "string of moments".

and then tell me all about it!!!

i'm so grateful for this community!

more dragons to slay

mommy and baby miles. photo katrina martin davenport, 2006. miles slept for 6 hours straight last night. i have not had that much sleep in four and a half months. when he did wake up to eat, i couldn't go back to sleep. i got up to pump excess milk at three am. and found my mind full of the chorus of weepies songs repeating and my ADD in full swing. i am thinking about fearlessness since yesterday's post. some of my sisters in this covey of artistes speak of fear often. as do i. all of the ruling queens have been speaking of it for ages. we have to visit with new fears, old fears, others' fears so often in this life. one of the questions i am asking myself many times per day is "who would i be without this fear?" and then, "who could i be without this fear?" and also "can i think of one stress free reason to keep this fear?" my inspiration for asking these questions is straight from the woman who made friends with the wind, byron katie. while you may not resonate with katie's method, one cannot deny how powerful her questions can be. i find her to be a helpful friend when i am trying to change someone or hold someone else accountable for what i need to give to myself. check her out if you are in a place like this. so i've taken her idea and applied it to fear. and today i feel like a matador. i don't feel that my own artwork is affected by fear, i do not suffer the blank canvas deer-in-the-headlights syndrome. where fear cripples me is in my ability to be a visionary on my own behalf. i linger without goals, because, what if i say i'm going to do something and i don't? there is nothing worse than that, right?? and we've been there before. that uncomfortable land of "i thought i wanted to be a writer, but now i want to paint...", etc. i see my intergrity crumbling as i make these fanciful promises to myself and don't follow through. are there any other creative people out there who go through this besides me? i want to commit to slaying fear in its tracks. before it makes me judge myself for changing my heart. before it finds me idle, right where it wants me, with few goals and a paralyzed sense of artistic value, playing small to avoid getting hurt.... tell me about your fear!!

in the dark

an email from feisty entitled "craptastic" made my day. i love new words born out of a shitty experience! makes it all worthwhile somehow...okay, not really... i want to quick thank all of you who have emailed me with advice about my website. it has been inspiring and hopeful to hear of so many options, many i had no idea existed! merci, merci. once we are settled in the new house situation, i will begin the transition, but i'll hang out here until the new journal is totally in place. so don't go anywhere! i was thinking about my dear [lover] swirly today and how BIG she dreams. so much bigger than i do. i thought, okay, i'm going to be swirly for a day. what shall i think about? what shall i do? and my next thought was, well, i might as well go for the gold and be oprah [swirly's icon] too. what shall i do? what myriad ideas and thresholdless doors fell open before me! the business of "inspiration" is sometimes mystifying to me. though i am inspired by words and doins every day, i had not really thought of myself as an inspiring force in the world. perhaps because at times i loom in my own muckishness, i have not created enough room in my consciousness to think of how i inspire others or how i would want to. so i'm thinkin on it, you see. and stuff is coming up. like, maybe i would like to inspire others to meet me in the dark. why then? because some are afraid of the dark? because i was once afraid of the dark? why do i think others would benefit from meeting me, a smallish pixie, in the dark? perhaps it is my quest to inspire others to be fearless, as i would like to be. when i overcome fears, i am holy in my superpower for the moment. i am that much more free, free to create my meaningful experience. when i am not afraid of myself, my thoughts, my power, i can be a force of good in the world like swirly and oprah are. i can. me. hey! a smallish pixie. in the dark. you and me. and the magic flashlight.

decidedly unpink

today i feel crappy. coldish, headachey and wanting to disappear from paper mail and anyone who wants something from me, first of all SBC who can *&%$ off. i feel totally worn out and as if my body is trying to tell me that these last weeks of barely taking my vitamins and eating like shit (read frozen everything) are paying off. nothing will fit today. i can't even get the fucking dropper lid off the the rescue remedy if that tells you how icky i feel! poor, poor me! pity me, i tell you! last night as i lie awake thinking of all of the fabulous things i wanted to post today instead of sleeping (while i can, an unwise choice at best) a brilliant blank canvas shone in front of me. i had dozens of ideas for filling it. now i have only whining complaints and my original photo that wouldn't bloody load. garden fairy #2 it is. that's what i got. plus a few new links to your right. if you don't know these girls, you should. they will rock your world when posts like this make you head for the ben and jerry's. *lackluster sigh* i'll be back to my pixieish self very soon. but today i am crapmistress. bear with me, ya'll. (***note to pookie-how can i get a hold of you???? i got your mail and your post about wondertemp's wedding-so cool! email me at campbellhq@earthlink.net )

unconscious magic

many of you may not know why i associate myself with the coyote. "pesky vermin!" you may exclaim, if you live anyplace where you have to share space with her. coyotes eat neighborhood pets and generally represent a scavenging nature that many find unpalatable. sometimes they appear mangy and hungry and well, who wants to see themselves in that mirror? here is what i have learned from coyote: she stands on a stage of constant paradox, contradicting herself by standing on both sides of the fence at all times. coyote "looks for ways to do things that will not involve the use of her own skill"-this couldn't be more true. i love to shortcut. this means that i have an ever-present bruise on my knee from hitting the coffee table each time i go around it. emotionally, i do take the long route to sort out issues with others, perhaps in order to be thorough, but i want the fast and hard road when it comes to inner housekeeping. now i know why my bookshelves are littered with self help books... just when i think i've got the magic answer to my issue at hand, i am surprised by what really comes forward into my consciousness-that it is the opposite thinking that is really true. in my life at the present moment, i have enlisted coyote to be my patron saint of adaptation. i wanted to come here and just be here and not feel the pinching twist of discomfort in my gut at being fenced in. i even created a painting that was to be titled "adaptability". i committed to going with the flow and rolling wth the punches and all of those ridiculous cliches that go completely against my intuition. i looked the painting yesterday and snapped. wait a minute! the coyote in the painting is not adapting at all. there was no sense of inertia. she is....is she? it is clear she is loping away from something. i think on this: it is typical, no, GOSPEL to say that i never know what my work is about until it speaks to me much later, after it is finished. and this agreement suits me. i paint. then i listen. soon the scritch scratch of meaning comes to my door. this coyote is moving out of something fixed and toward something more....more open just beyond the edge of the canvas. this coyote is locked into nothing.