My Creative Heroes Chronicles: What Sark Means to Me
 I am thrilled to report that I recently had a long-standing, joyful dream come true: I got to take a class taught by Sark! (Susan Ariel Rainbow Kennedy) The class was called "Juicy Pens, Thirsty Paper," which is also the title of her newest book, in stores on August 12th. (all about sharing our stories with the world!) Sark asked me to write a testimonial about her class, and here is what I wrote:
"Sark sat under her gorgeous purple umbrella, glowing with warmth, joy and love. The introductions were not the usual: "hi, my name is.." Instead, we held hands, looked into eachother's eyes and spoke our dreams.We were all magically bonded to one another, and they were two of the best days that I ever spent! My creative well was filled to overflowing, and so was my heart.  I am currently on the strongest creative roll I've had in my life, ever since I returned from Starwae and Sark's "Juicy Pens and Thirsty Paper!" I feel daring, unlimited, and I believe my dreams can come true!
ps: I am a caterer, and I have to add that the food was  vibrant and delicious! Janice and John of Starwae were warm, creative, succulent people!"
 
My dream to take a class with Sark began after I read my first Sark book, around 8 years ago. I was going through a really difficult time trying to find a new place to live, (because my landlords had gone a bit insane,) so I could no longer stay where I was.  I spent many-a-fruitless-day searching for an affordable rental that would allow dogs. I was feeling quite hopeless, when I  found that my sweet neighbor, Vanessa, had left "Succulent Wild Woman" by Sark on my doorstep. I read the whole book in one sitting.  It was like getting a transfusion of creativity, energy and hope! Sark has lived in all kinds of amazing settings, and she made me realize that anything is possible. Within a few weeks, I had moved into a better situation. (and that better situation helped me to eventually find the perfect place that I live in now!)
I now live in my very own "magic cottage!"
Sark has a way of injecting hope and joy into any situation, whether it be finding a home, making friends, or determining what your dreams are and pursuing them. Meeting her in person provided a more concentrated dose of her magic. She was very warm and approachable, and I could feel that she really cared about us and our dreams. She had many different activities for us to do, each aimed at some aspect of our creative growth. They were all fun, illuminating and exciting. We all laughed a lot!  It was the perfect learning environment and class content for optimum delightful absorption of the lessons she provided. We were all filled with concentrated creative juice, and I still feel nourished and highly creative even now, a month later! Amazing connections were made as well: not just with Sark, but with everyone there!
What I love most about Sark is her gentle, playful, childlike energy. Being an adult in this crazy-paced world can be so exhausting! We all have so many responsibilities, financial obligations and concerns. Sark helps us to approach everything with joy and wonder, and to believe in magic: like children do. She gives us permission to take guilt-free naps. We are encouraged to take tiny steps in the direction of our dreams in the form of "micro-movements." (actions that take 5 seconds - 5 minutes long to complete) These tiny steps add up to big results! The sky is the limit! I think that we all tend to bite off more-than-we-can-chew. Then we get discouraged, and may even give up on our dreams. Sark reminds us that it's ok to rest, or to put something aside and come back to it, or to even stay in bed all day eating chocolate and watching old movies! Freedom is the best part of being an adult! I think it's easy to forget that we are free under all the pressures of being grown up. Inside of all of us there is a kid who knows how to have fun and live in the moment. That is how I want to live my life, because it feels good! I will continue to pay the bills and be a dutiful adult...but from now on, I will let the kid inside of me out-to-play everyday! And I have Sark to thank for this new, youthful, creatively juicy me! Thanks Sark!!!
I will leave you with a little song that I sang to Sark on her inspiration line (415-546-3742: call for a dose of inspiration!):
"Amazing Sark! How sweet she glows with cre-a-tiv-ity!
I once was sad, but now I'm glad, because Sark shared with me!"
 
 
 
sark

Can anyone explain to me how to add a photo to my blog?

 

Lowbrow LOL : Chad's Divot (kids, don't try this at home!)

I used to be madly in love with a red-headed rogue by the name of Chad. Mostly what I loved about him was that he always had me laughing, and could tell great stories. One day we were trying to catch some fish from the creek, and Chad asked: "Did I ever tell you the story of my divot?" (Chad had a perfectly round divot on the end of his nose, which gave his face a lot of character.)  I said I hadn't heard that tale yet. So Chad launched into his yarn, as only Chad could, with much humor and animation. But I will do my best to remember how he told it:

"Baldy Don got out of jail after a 90 day stretch for indecent exposure to an officer of the law while intoxicated. (he was drunk and mooned a cop) Once out, he was ready to make up for lost time and wanted to get drunk and party all night long...Well I was hot-tar roofin' at the time, and it was hard work. I couldn't keep up with Baldy Don, and ended up falling asleep. Baldy Don is a mischievious cuss, and he was wide awake and drunk for hours by himself.  I guess he got bored, so he thought it would be funny to super glue a lit cigarette butt to the end of my nose. (Apparently when supper glue is heated, its adhesive powers become even stroger.) The cig burned down, the filter heated up and so did the glue, but after a few beers and a hard day of work, I didn't feel a thing. The next morning I woke up and the filter was firmly glued to the end of my nose. I was running late, and couldn't show up for a roofing job with a bunch of guys having a cig filter on the end of my nose! So in my haste, I yanked the cigarette off, and with it came a sizeable chunk of the tip of my nose!  And that, my little raspberry streusel muffin, (one of his corny nicknames for me!) is the story of the divot on the end of my nose!"

My Creative Heroes Chronicles: (rest in peace) Utah Phillips

I was listening to my favorite radio station, KHUM, and Lila the DJ announced that Utah Phillips had passed away a few days ago of congestive heart failure. I am writing this from a place of shock that can only be compared to the way I felt when John Lennon or Jerry Garcia died. Utah Phillips was my hero in so many ways, and I feel so blessed that I actually got to meet and talk to him at lenth about real subjects we both felt excited about, like train hoppin' and the joys of simple living. He was such a good man, and also just a regular guy. He was famous, but he still loved people, and would talk to anyone who approached him. (despite his "no fat heads" rule) I was blessed to serve him meals backstage at the Black Oak Ranch at the Kate Wolf Memorial Festivals for the past 5 years. Before that, I once drove all the way to Petaluma to see him perform. (about 8 hours roundtrip, but well worth it) At that show, I was invited to sit with friends of Ramblin' Jack Elliot, who was a good friend of Woody Guthrie's. (Utah helped to keep the songs and the memory of Woody Guthrie alive)The show was a joyous event, where we were all invited to sing old union songs with Utah: up on the old stage, just belting it out with such gusto, you'd never guess his age, or the fact that he had health problems.

Utah was The King of the Hoboes, and could tell a story like nobody else on the planet. I've always had romantic notions of this kind of life, living with nothing but the clothes on your back and a bedroll. I got to try it once, briefly, and it was such an amazing adventure! But I never did get to hop a train. This is something I have always wanted to try, and everyone who knows me, knows this about me. My friends and family just shake their heads and think I'm an odd bird...But Utah understood the lure of ultimate freedom in the mournful wail of every train that chugs through the night. I used to live next the tracks back in Michigan, and the trains would shake me awake in my bed, and I would dream of running out there and catching one on the fly in my pj's. Oh my romantic, adventurous heart will never be quenched! (but hopping a train would satisfy it for a good long stretch!)

The last time I saw Utah was about a year ago. We had a mutual friend, Lee, of the Hoboes from Hell, who hopped trains with Utah and also had a hobo radio show out of Santa Cruz. Lee has been my penpal for almost 5 years, and was in a movie about train hopping called "Catching Out." He had graciously agreed to teach me how to hop a train safely, and I was very excited about it! So the last time I saw Utah, I told him all about our plans. He actually gave me his phone number, and said that he might like to join us! He looked so good when we last spoke, so happy and healthy...I feel blessed that our last encounter was so rich. I remember looking into his crystal blue eyes and seeing a love of life and humanity there. We never did hop a train together, I'm sorry to say. But Lee and I still intend to hop that train, and the spirit of Utah will be there with us. Now his spirit will be with every hobo and homeless person, like the famous speech by Tom Joad from Steinbeck's Grapes of Wrath: "I'll be around...wherever there's a fight so hungry people can eat...Whenever there's a cop beating a guy, I'll be there...And when the people are eatin' the stuff they raise and livin' in the houses they build, I'll be there too."  And though we know Utah's spirit will be with us, his physical presence will be sorely missed! Fare thee well, dear Utah.

To read about Utah Phillip's remarkable life of adventure, please got to: http://www.utahphillips.org/

 

 

 

My Creative Heroes Chronicles: Frida Kahlo

I started this blogpost a couple of months ago, after seeing the Frida alter (containing Frida's "Broken Column) in the article Marney wrote about her friend who passed away. My blogpost was lost in cyberspace, but today I was reminded of it again...I am in a great deal of pain, and that alter spoke to my pain. By the time Frida painted "The Broken Column" she had to wear a metal girdle for her back pain, which she lived with constantly for around 25 years. I was in a carwreck 14 years ago, and though it was nowhere near as serious as Frida's accident, I still deal with pain in varying degrees just about everyday since it happened. For the past week my discomfort has been extreme, due to the fact that I gave myself whiplash... by flipping my hair! (yes, like the Tresseme hair products commercial) Today the sleep deprivation caught up with me, and with it, the feelings of depression. When I saw my chiropractor, he pulled up on my neck and it relieved the pain briefly. I told him it made me feel like Frida: how she had bandages that were under her jaw to pull up on her neck to relieve the pain in her spine. He just wanted to know if she was the one with the mono-brow. (haha! I remember having similar thoughts before I got to know her!) I have many creative heroes, some are dead and some are living. To me they are all still alive: in their art which lives on, and in the kind of lives they led. Frida is my teacher and my friend, although she died 10 years before I was born.

 Despite her extreme pain, Frida managed to create many amazing, deep, psychological paintings about what she knew best: herself. She also had adventures, taught several art students, had many lovers and one great love...Diego Rivera. She drank in life deeply, despite the pain. She wore bold, vibrant colors in her dresses and in her hair. That's how I want to live! Instead I usually end up sounding like Dr. Smith from "Lost in Space" : "Oh the pain, the agony, the pain!"  Earlier today I was starting to plummet into the pit of dispair... This level of pain makes it difficult to do anything. But I learned Frida's secret: If you keep your hands moving and creating, your mind relaxes and the pain is less intense for a little while. Art helps us to rise above so many things: pain, depression, abuse, illness, etc. I think that art can help to heal any problem in our lives. (when i say art, I mean any act of creation, not just fine art) I believe we are all artists of some sort. I know I'm no Frida Kahlo, but it's ok. It's the process that is healing for me, because I am focused on something other than the pain. Sometimes the finished product is appreciated by others, but usually it just helps me to heal a little bit more.

Frida painted right up until 5 days before she died. Her last painting was of sliced watermelons. Beneath them, she wrote: "Live Life!" (Viva la vida!) Diego Rivera died just three years later. His last painting was also of sliced watermelons. Being a total romantic, this always makes me tear up. He said that he didn't know what her love really meant, until she was gone. I can, unfortunately,  relate to that statement. I've lost so many people close to me, most recently, my father...I miss him so much more than I ever thought possible. I went back to Michigan and got to be with him for 6 weeks before he died. I was also with him when he passed. (It was the best thing I ever did.) I am still finding things out about him, and of his tremendous love for me. I wish I had spent more quality time with him before his health went downhill. My point in all of this is that life is short, and filled with pain and sadness. I want to live and love like Frida did, with all of my heart, soul and being...in spite of the pain. The people I love will know how much I love and appreciate them, well before they reach their deathbeds. And I will know and love myself deeply also, as she did. Thank you Frida for teaching me to viva la vida!

Almost Heaven

Our pastor speaks of inspiration by reminding us that it comes from the Latin word: inspiratus, which means to be filled with God's spirit. When I am truly inspired, that is what it is like: I am an open conduit, and God is giving me the power and the ideas and the techniques that I need to create something new. This is when I am most alive. I was once asked to write about what my idea of heaven was. In my heaven, I am inspired all the time! I saw myself levatating like an angel, with all kinds of art supplies swirling around me. I only need to think: and the correct tool appears in my hand; in my idea of heaven...But back here on planet earth,  I've found that having my supplies organized helps me to reach a place of inspiration faster and easier. I'm not anal about it, but I don't have to search for my supplies anymore. I also always carry a little notebook around in my back pocket to jot down inspired ideas and sketches. This way, when I have time to play with the idea, I can do so without those lingering doubts going through my mind: am I forgetting something?

It's a crazy world, and we all need to unplug our minds once-in-awhile,or the stress will overload our systems. I have tried meditating, and it's really difficult for me to slow down mentally and just sit. For me, making inspired art is like a meditation. I go into sort of a trance. It's like being in love, where you look up at the clock and suddenly hours have passed and it seemed like only moments. Time stops, and my mind is still. I am there, but it's a different me. I lose myself for awhile, and it's delicious. My best friend laughs at me because when I really get into it, I make these little grunts. We call them art-grunts. I don't even realize I am doing it because I get so focused.

Things that get me to that heavenly place are varied, and depend upon my mood. Music is often a springboard into inspiration for me. On Tuesday nights between 7 and 9 pm (PST)  I listen to Ryan Lee's jazz underground on KHUM. (anyone can listen to KHUM on the computer) His show always inspires me to write and make art. Sometimes it's easier for me to become inspired when the music all instrumental, as words can sometimes be a distraction for me. Allowing myself to play is also a sure pathway to the inspired-art-trance. I just mess around and see what comes, no judgement. Even if what I am making seems to suck,  if I stick with it in a non-judgemental, playful way, something good always comes from it. Lately I've been playing with these new paints called byzantia, which are metallic and shiney, like a newly painted classic car. I got some of the paint on the shirt I was wearing while I played, so then I just kept going with it. I ended up painting right onto the shirt, turning it into a work of art as well. Some seeped through to my skin beneith the fabric. I am happiest when I am covered in paint, mid-inspiritus: an open circuit from heaven flowing through my grateful hands.

How to See the USA for a Song

I've seen or driven through every state in the USA, except Hawaii. Most of this adventure was accomplished in a '76 Ford Econoline van with a rebuilt straight six. We lovingly called her Mable, and she never failed us. She wasn't pretty: rusty as hell from years spent driving the winter salted roads of Detroit, Michigan. You could even watch the highway whiz by through the floorboards in some places!  Her interior was thick, luxurious, blue shag carpet. The driver's side door was held shut with a bungie cord. It was a father's worst nightmare, to see his daughter drive West in such a monstrosity! But he let me go. I went to the mountains of Colorado. I met my travelling partner soon thereafter, whom I will affectionately refer to as "the oaf" in this article.

1) If you choose to have a travelling companion on your adventure, be sure that he/she is USEFUL. (and not just "along-for-the-ride)

The Oaf  annoyed the heck out of me most of the time, but on the rare occasion that we happened to break down, he proved to be invaluable. He could fix almost any mechanical problem. In addition, he was a great cook, played guitar like Bonnie Raitte, and could carry on an intelligent conversation with anyone. He also knew when to make himself scarce and give me some space when necessary.

2) Be Organized: Only the Bare Essentials!

When we left Nederland, Colorado to start our journey, we were loaded to the gills. We got to the big city of Denver, and a bunch of our stuff blew off the roofrack on the highway. We walked up and down the busy highway picking up our belongings, then located a thrift store, pared everything down drastically, and made a huge donation. We also mailed a box of things too dear to get rid of to the friend who kindly agreed to forward our mail. She would forward our mail to general delivery in a different state evererytime we asked. We also had a voicemail that we checked daily, which enabled our folks to reach us if necessary. (before the days where everyone had cellphones!) All we really needed was gas, food, water, and a place to park each night. Life was cheap and simple.

3) Money

We left with about $700.00, which got us quite a ways down the road back then. (1990) But eventually, we ran out of money. This was where the "USA for a Song" part comes into play. The Oaf played a mean guitar. He could open his case and play just about anywhere and make a little cash. I attempted to join him on my drum, but, let's just say we didn't make beautiful music together! So I made art instead...handmade journals, little dolls, beadwork, jewlery, etc. Between us, we did alright. We also found many ways to save money in every department. 

4) Saving Money on the Basic Four: Gas, Food, Water, Camping

Gas: This was the hardest catagory in which to save money. (and still is today, that's for sure!) We had very few problems, despite the age and appearance of our vehicle. I am convinced it had to do with the fact that each time we stopped for gas: I would pump, and the oaf would check the oil and the tires. It's a small thing, but checking these two things goes a long way when it comes to avoiding potential auto problems in the middle of nowhere. And keeping the oil level up saves gas, as do properly aired tires.

Food: We ate very simply, and rarely ever ate out. When we left, we had 2 five gallon buckets containing pinto beans and rice. (the buckets also doubled as extra seats!)  We also had 5 pounds each of oats and peanut butter. Frankly, I have never been in better shape. Upon the rare occassion that one of us got sick, I had made tinctures of echinacea, osha root, and dried herbs for teas. We learned about nature and collected books on finding or own herbs, wild mushrooms and other wild edibles. We also sold the mushrooms to fancy restaurants for big money. We caught our own fresh fish, and often stopped at roadside stands for fresh farm eggs and produce. We also occassionally accepted kindness from strangers, and dumpster dived. Many people are very turned off by the idea of dumpster diving, but so many foods are tossed out (wasted) at the peak of ripeness, and often still in containers. You learn to use your nose, to be discerning, and of course to wash things off very well. Once we even found a crate of strawberries, some limes, and a 5th of tequilla (unopened) in the dumpster! The oaf said an employee of the store probably hid it there for later, but we said "finders keepers" and had margaritas that night!

Water: Finding drinking water wasn't really a big issue, once we had a system. We had several gallon jugs which we filled for free in gas stations, rest stops and truck stops. (Always look for signs that say "this water is not potable." ) When in doubt, ask, or play it safe and get water elsewhere. I made sure we always had plenty of fresh drinking water after an incident where we ran out of water in the middle of the desert. It was a terrible, panicky feeling I vowed never to repeat.

Showers: We had a sun shower, but usually we would find a college and act like we were students and shower in their recreation departments. The trick was to dress up a little, so you didn't look like a tramp, smile, and act like you belonged there. We also sometimes showered in truck stops, and we soaked in just about every natural hotspring in the USA.  You haven't lived until you have soaked in a natural hotspring warmed for you by mother earth herself. We had books on finding them in every region, and we usually stuck to the free, undeveloped ones, where you could get naked and no one would bother you. (note: always carry a trashbag for storing your clothing while you soak! once a stray dog peed on ours while we were in the water.)

Camping: We never paid for camping. Most people don't realize that it is legal to camp on National Forest Land for up to two weeks in one spot. We also occassionally parked at rest areas, truck stops, and in the driveways of various friends. There's also the parking lots of places like Walmart, where many of the big RV's can be seen parking these days to save a buck for a night. Today, as a woman travelling alone, I often park at churches which makes me feel safe. And it always helps to say a little prayer for protection before you close your eyes for the night.

5) Extras: Entertainment

Life on the road was constantly entertaining, but sometimes we craved a little something extra. When we pulled into a town, we'd always look for the college newspaper or small local paper. In any town, there is a bevy of free events from poetry readings to free music. We'd also go to coffee houses and ask around. We'd get invited to dinners, parties, and even a Buddist wedding in a redwood forest. Once we found a bar in Key West that served free drinks for an hour every Tuesday, and we arrived on Tuesday afternoon! We also had a small dashboard solar panel, which allowed us to listen to music without the engine on with no worries of deadening the battery. We also read eachother's favorite books and had many heated discussions about literature, art, music, culture, politics, etc. There was never a dull moment.

For a list of my 10 favorite secret places in the USA, email me at: greengoddess64@yahoo.com.

HAPPY TRAILS!

 

In Love With Words and the Men Who Say Them

This is the ad he posted on Craigslist:

"Early one afternoon many years ago, in an urban New Jersey Greek restaurant, I had lunch with our ESL director. She loved kids, and hated roaches, hated them with a passion.
Midway through the meal, I saw a big cockroach skittle up the wall just to her right. Although she had not yet seen it, the bug was moving toward her line of vision. In seconds, my companion would be out the door. And I had picked the restaurant.
Hidden by the tablecloth, I wadded up a piece of paper napkin then pointed to the doorway.
"There's Ralph coming in, isn't it?"
When she turned to her left to look, I threw the bit of paper and knocked the roach off the wall.
It landed on her sandwich. But before she turned around, I reached over the table and flicked the bug off the crust of her BLT, and it sailed across the floor and clung to the back of Ralph's tweed jacket.
No one saw the roach but me.
We were short on time and my friend did not finish her sandwich. She left the roach landing-site uneaten, so I never had to mention the bug.

Good luck is often defined by what happened just before it.

Many people come to Humboldt to redefine themselves. I did. A good story is one that ends well.
If you are working on a good story yourself, collaboration might be in order. "

I laughed outloud at his ad! It was at a time when really needed a good laugh! I wrote him to tell him it was the funniest and most creative personals ad I had ever read. I often cruise the craigslist personals, but rarely write anyone anymore because of past romantic disasters found on the computer. He wrote back asking if I would like another story to ease my stress. (my dog was injured this weekend and I'm very low on sleep) I said yes to his kind offer, and he responded with a beautifully written story about his grandma. I have no idea what he looks like or how old he is, but that David Cassidy song started playing in my head: "I Think I Love You!"

I wanted to respond, a story for a story...So I sat down and started writing in my journal. It flowed out of me like water. Two hours and twelve pages later, I stopped to read what I had written. My mouth fell open with genuine surprise and delight...I realized that I had finally begun the novel that has been my dream of writing since I was old enough to dream. 

Stay tuned as the stories unfold... 

The first thing I thought this morning when I woke up was:

It's Cam's birthday!!!Party!!!

I hopped out of bed and decided to call her before even making my coffee. I figured if I waited, I'd forget to call later. The phone rang, and she answered, sounding quite sleepy....Sleep

It was obvious I had awakened her on her special day... But undaunted, I launched into a very loud and off-key rendition of "Happy Birthday to you, you live in a zoo, you look like a wildabeast and you smell like one too!" I then began excitedly asking her about whether or not she got the painting I sent her, which I put a lot of love into, called "The Intrepid Traveller."

 I made it because Cam lives an amazing life and has travelled all over the world. She currently lives most of the year in Istanbul! She's in the states now, visiting family in Texas. Ever the Southern gentlewoman, she patiently answered all of my questions, told me about her family and what they were all up to, etc...

Then I asked her what she planned on doing for her birthday...

She gently answered: "You do realize that my birthday is in December?"

"What? You're kidding! Have I been calling you on the wrong day all these years and you were just too polite to say so?"

"Nope, this is the first time!" said Cam.

(Well I guess coffee helps my brain wake up more than I realized!)

All day long today, I've been giggling about that call to Cam! I've been imagining how I would react if someone called to wish me a happy birthday two months after-the-fact! HAHAHA! (I guess I'm easily amused!)