Grotto

April 11, 2020 by leximagines

Grotto, acrylic and ink on watercolor paper, 18″X24″, Lex Leonard

In the beginning
a cavern gestation
dark, warm, fluid
underwater quiet
a den in which to grow
without worry
a place to become
what I am

Then I emerged
all new and shiny
ready to become more
still me, but more

There is no need for me to fear
This dark
This hollow
This stillness
This solitary space
Imposed

The other time, in three days
here was something new
and shiny
still the same
yet more
not in ways of musts and rules
but a knowing…there is more
and it doesn’t matter what that is
just a reminder
to be me, here and now

I, too, will emerge from this antre
shaking off many things
having been exiled to
dark, still, quiet in
sacred space
knowing there is more

Author’s Note:

This is day eleven of the National Poetry Writing Month/Global Writing Month. I didn’t post yesterday’s poem. It is at the bottom of this post. And today I am not writing to the prompt.

I began this painting yesterday. I am several years removed from celebrating the traditions of Holy Week and Easter. I celebrate in another way taking with me a life of of what serves me.

I have no specific religion, but I do believe in Source.

I do believe in holy and wise people who came here to help us realize what gifts we are. To help us realize that we are wonderfully and perfectly and beautifully made. This is our personal gift as well as a gift to all beings. And it is our purpose to share our beautiful selves. Flaws, if you must, and all.

As I painted this on Good Friday, I was in a place in my fear. In darkness. And I knew there was a message for me. I used only bone black and titanium white to begin after having blessed the canvas with the elements and opened the directions. This is my holy practice with my art.

As I sat with this, faces began to emerge from the strokes. Many faces, even a figure. I thought I might just darken a few lines of all the faces, but I stopped at the one that was most obvious. I knew I was going to add the quinacridone crimson. So this face emerge d surround by red, fire, hair. Me. So she stays. I’m posting below several image points along the way as I painted.

I am a certified Intentional Creativity instructor, Red Thread Guide, and poet. Using Intentional Creativity as a spiritual practice is a powerful addition to my other practices – Passage Meditation with the Blue Mountain Center for Meditation and my shamanic practice.

Life, for me, is about weaving together that which serves and sharing the gifts I have been given to help all beings realize their beauty within.

My Process: 1. Blessing the canvas with the elements. 2. Writing the intention. 3. Opening the directions. 4. Faces emerge.

NaPoWriMo Day 10

Today’s prompt (optional, as always) is another one from the archives, first suggested to us by long-time Na/GloPoWriMo participant Vince Gotera. It’s the hay(na)ku). Created by the poet Eileen Tabios and named by Vince, the hay(na)ku is a variant on the haiku. A hay(na)ku consists of a three-line stanza, where the first line has one word, the second line has two words, and the third line has three words. You can write just one, or chain several together into a longer poem. For example, you could write a hay(na)ku sonnet, like the one that Vince himself wrote back during NaPoWriMo 2012!

Evolution

Paramecium
Swimming obedience
Survival in tedium

Prometheus
Clayed resilience
Sparked life abundance

Bohemian
Soaring avian
Extant not oblivion

Microscopic
Story mythical
Consummate zenithal marrow

Consecration

June 17, 2016 by leximagines

If given a chance
I would pare it down.
I would do it all over again,
heal keen wounds
carved to make me fit.

I would do it all over again,
heel when I come to titanic doors.
If given a chance at the pair,
I’d stay in sun, not enter shade.

A chance, if I was given,
I would banquet on each juicy pear.
Again, I would do it over,
He’ll welcome my redesign.

Under skyward arm of branches wide,
feet bared to moss and stone,
tides brushing sanded earth,
and air a swirl of life I’d stand.

This temple granted all,
no one left aside,
no one banished by belief,
or refused by creed or rule,
all embraced in gifts profound.

I’d honor bird and bee,
beast and human.
I’d honor me, formed in grace
in perfect flame,
one hand in Yours, the other open,
one path for all to be.

May all walls crumble into gravel.
May all breathe in the depth of You.
And may we, everyone together,
walk each other home.

Author’s Note:

Orlando.

Another one.

I am from Colorado and a first grade teacher, too many to list now.

I am tired of boundaries, lines drawn over and within religious belief systems. The whitewashing, justifications, excuses for the arming of those who live in fear.

There have been many touching, wise, angry, heartbroken words shared this week, much more eloquent than I can summon. They pass over me once again, yet not provoking change. The only thing I can change is myself.

A full Moon is Monday, the Summer Solstice. I join with others to welcome newness, wholeness under a moon given to all without sanction. I drop the conceptions of my past by embracing the new without fear. No more systems to alienate. No more boundaries drawn. The search is over.

I consecrate myself on a new path open to all.
I step into Oneness, Compassion, and Wisdom
under sky, feet grounded to earth,
in breath of air,
this temple given to all.
I honor myself as a mirror of the Divine in you
to recognize the Divine in me.

This is my chance to do it again, revised.

Lexanne

For more on this piece, please visit JOURNEY/lex. You can also sign up here to receive it weekly in your e-mail box.

Warrior

June 11, 2016 by leximagines

Do you know the tenacious bee,
one who moves from bloom
to bloom without fail, without
regret, without losing faith…

Do you know water as it
runs cold from snowed
peaks, down to settle in
low places, without question
to its purpose, without fear…

Do you know the sun as it
pushes above the horizon
without falter, without doubt
since before time that we remember
until time when it is burned out…

Do you feel your heartbeat,
a gift given, one you cannot
contain, one that speaks to
you in every moment, at each turn,
in every breath, unwavering passion…

Warrior,
one who does not abide in fear,
acknowledges its impossible grip,
but leaves it to shrivel unfed.

Warrior,
who is built on faith.

Warrior,
who opens space
for that which will be,
that without ego.

Warrior,
who trusts and moves
in rhythm of heartbeat.

Warrior
who releases all to the One who Is –
a marriage without question,
a union of tenderness,
a hand fasting of strength
to move a mountain,
if such a thing be needed.

You are warrior,
born to trust,
made to honor,
sent to be you.

.
.
.

Author’s Note:

I once had a discussion with one dear to me who when I read a poem about being a warrior, a dismayed looked came upon the face of my friend. It must have seemed unlike me to consider myself a warrior. In my friend’s mind, possibly, understanding a warrior to be one of violence.

If I place myself into a historical context I would probably be a hippie – peace and love and all that jazz. I struggle with eating meat, wearing leather, supporting the zoos. Trash. Oh, the waste. I don’t seem to have anything warrior about me, in the traditional sense of war.

Today I was once again presented with the idea of warrior – one of strong conviction, not violence; respect and honor, not ego.

To be a warrior doesn’t mean I am going to pick up a weapon. On the contrary, I see no purpose at all in carrying guns. Yes. That includes hunting. No war. No pesticides. No boxing or football. No winners or losers. No Game of Thrones or even Harry Potter. Violence is much too pervasive in all we do. I know. I eat meat. I love Harry Potter. I am working on this contrary life of mine.

But I am warrior.

Some call it stubborn. I am also a Taurus. Maybe that plays a part.

In these past four years, especially since January, I have come to acknowledge and embrace my Warriorself – in my faith, in my love, in making my life along a new path. I embrace new ways, ideas, and thought that aren’t new but ancient. And people who are of nature and see our Holy One in all and in everything have stepped graciously into my life. No boundaries or creeds to accept or hide within. Just opening, opening to all in wonder and joy. No fear. No fear.

It is astounding. The path is wide enough for everyone. The gifts to share are stunning if I quiet myself like a warrior, learn to listen, really hear and understand. Stay open to whatever may happen. Make room for those new voices and their gifts who are presented to me, and to welcome all.

It is not perfect or easy, but I am not giving up.

I am warrior.

I hope my friend understands.

May you stand in stillness,
warrior, listening deeply
to our Holy One’s voice.

May you walk in lightness,
warrior, in honor and
respect of all life,
all that is holy.

May you see with eyes
wide and free,
warrior, open stance
accepting of the gift Divine.

Amen. Amen. Amen.

Aho,
Lexanne

Above is Luna, my new rattle.
I love the gift of her into my life.
Made of leather, sitting on leather.
Oh, my contrary life.
One side is this lovely deep blue signifying the dark Moon.
And, then, the other side is ever so lightly tinted blue
for when she is full.

Warrior dancer Gillian Murphy
Photo by Ken Browar and Deborah Ory, NYC Dance
Found on Musetouch Visual Arts Magazine, Facebook.
Project.https://www.facebook.com/nycdanceproject/timeline

“The two basic qualities of warriors
are sustained effort and unbending intent.”
by Carlos Castaneda | Artist unknown
From Dreamwork with Toko-pa
on Facebook

Lady Wisdom

October 10, 2015 by leximagines

The fog is anxious

but the clearing,

slow may it be,

much patience required,

the opening ravishes.

Author’s Note:

The first time I visited San Francisco, we walked the city. We didn’t rent a car but used public transportation. Our first morning out, we took the bus to the bridge.

It was foggy. Just fog and the roar of traffic.

At the visitor center, we asked where the bridge was. From behind the counter came a point to the picture window, “It’s right there.”

My husband and I looked at one another and shrugged.

“Just take the steps up.” The finger returned to the newspaper on the counter turning to the next page.

And an afterthought, “Watch out for traffic. And just keep walking.”

So we walked up the steps and the traffic noise grew, surged through the fog without showing itself.

As we continued, we began to see ghost cars melting into grey. There was one lone figure ahead of us on the wide sidewalk with just enough clarity to make out his form. As we approached, he stopped. The three of us saw only the faintest outline of the bridge, a picture frame flat and almost nondescript.

When we reached him, he turned and handed us his camera. We obliged. He reclaimed it, bowed slightly, and began to walk back to the steps. We shared what we were told: just keep walking. He hesitated and without a reply disappeared down the steps into the soup.

We looked at one another and just continued walking.

It wasn’t long. Rather quickly, as a matter of fact, that as we passed under the first arch we could see the fog clearing. We kept walking. Cars became sharper to match the bluster. I could now see across the traffic to the opposite side of the bridge opening to the ocean and began to distinguish waves roaring in harmony with the rush hour madness.

My husband tapped me on the shoulder in our pause. He whispered, “Turn around.”

There it was, the city of San Francisco, the bay, and the bridge with the fog falling away, candy-colored in the bright morning sun.

Wisdom is there, always.

She waits for me to simply listen, press on in the present moment. There I will meet her.

If I release my worry, my need for control, my fear. If I sit with my choices and understand they are past done, I see her opening the door for me to make new choices to live the life I’ve been given.

I can choose to continue on, or turn back.

I choose Lady Wisdom.
.

And More:

Thank you, Scott Jenkins, for Celtic Conversations this past year at a Church of the Holy Family, ECC. I have grown and changed and learned to release. You’ve given us time to rest and question in a place of safety filled with compassion. Thank you, Padre.

A bit of synchronicity for this week. Our Celtic Conversations and the Lectionary Readings for Sunday, October 11, 2015, from the USCCB.org:

Reading 1 WIS 7:7-11

Reading 2 HEB 4:12-13

San Francisco Bay Bridge Photo courtesy of: Bridge-Bond-Monuments-Places-Fog-Golden-Gate-Pacif-7748