I do not share events very often, but this is one I would love for you to check out.
Make your inner critic your ally and let your Muse out to play
Find out how to rewire your brain patterns and quickly lower stress levels
Journey into the portal of your imagination with a world-class artist
Discover how to enter the “flow state” and free your creative, playful self
I know Shiloh Sophia through my own experience with Intentional Creativity and healing/transformation this past year. And I would like to introduce you to her joy with her complimentary event at the Shift Network.
Visit my “Events” page if you are interested in more information.
Below are just a few muses I painted this year while I was immersed in the process of Intentional Creativity.
Rest and reflect then
Step Step Rest
See and acknowledge
Take all time needed
Step Step Rest
Step Step Rest
Stillness in her crescent
Step Step Rest
Compassion for my being
Perfection in Creation
After a deep conversation with a dear friend and coach, we talked about how it seems we are always taking two steps forward and one step back.
A light bulb went on!
In my work with Intentional Creativity I am also learning how to reframe my story. And here was the nugget.
It is not two forward and one back. But a waltz with which we are blessed.
Within that three step, there is wisdom and Light, if I take time to pause.
It is not a move backward, but a stillness calling for reflection.
Not a stoppage to beat myself up for not being perfect. But a resting time to see more clearly that I am perfect just as I was created. I need no work on that piece. Just acknowledgement.
Ah, there’s the rub.
Do not worry if you seem not to dream.
It is an ominous place in time.
I am with you
and your dreams will unfold
and you will be safe
and you will know.
Under Moon or dark sky Star Nations cradle you.
They sing your story,
and you hear.
Together we walk
and Ancestors come.
They show you the way and you go.
if you still do not seem to dream,
rest in me anyway sweet one rest.
I am your Sister Starwalker
I will always be.
I have begun my journey as a Color of Woman In Training 2019 under the guide of Shiloh Sophia and other graduates and wise women from the Intentional Creativity Foundation. A group of Cosmic Cowgirls who ride their paths honoring the feminine in all walks of life. I am so very full of gratitude to be a part of this group, this circle woven together by the Red Thread.
One of our first assignments in our training is to create our personal Legend-Archetype.
Her name is Sister Starwalker.
Her incarnation is not only to paint her, but to write her Chronicles. The first steps are to write MY incarnation story and begin painting employing the 13 steps of Intentional Creativity.
She is at a resting place right now. Time to listen. Time to write.
She Who Is began her naming process. She speaks who she is and what she does.
She Who Is
She Who is Wildwoman in the Wilderness of Being
She Who Carries the Night
She Who Stands Guard
She Who Honors Ancestral Wisdom
She Who Listens
She Who Illuminates
She Who is Sister Starwalker
And now that she is named and resting in her image and colors, I begin her Chronicles.
Chronicles of Sister Starwalker
One – Incarnation
She stood on her tippy toes, barefoot at the upper point of the crescent Moon. After a deep breath in, she released it, and slid down. If it was a good full release, she would end at the tip of the other side of Moon. It was just for a moment of ecstasy until she slid back to rest in the middle of Moon’s crescent smile.
Moon wasn’t really a crescent, although that is how most people described it in each orbit, thinking the rest of the Moon was gone. Paying little attention to what was really there.
Oh, they missed the most important part. Moon is always there, full and luscious, knowing when to shine brightest and when to dim. Moon is wise in all her years knowing that it takes dark to see stars.
As there she sat in the middle of the crescent, her voice opened into gratitude.
She was young.
It’s not what one on Earth would think of as young. She was sixty-two, and that made her barely a baby among the Star Nations. She had just begun her journey with them.
She felt blessed by the Ancestors to be honored to share her gift, the one who could look at dreams without fear, find their owners, and stand guard as dreams unfolded. But that wasn’t always true when she was on Earth.
But here they named her Sister Starwalker, an honoring of tremendous responsibility she accepted with humility and joy.
Sister Starwalker had other gifts, too. When walking on Earth, the place she chose to be, she was known as the Wildwoman who tramped through the city and found the open spaces and talked to Mother Tree and left gifts of sparkly stones in cracks and crevices for others to find, if they stood in silence long enough to see.
She would sing her own songs as she walked her familiar. Out loud! Yes! And people crossed the street away from her or paused at the pavilion seeking shade as an excuse not to make eye contact. They were not escaping from the heat of the sun, but from Sister Starwalker’s brilliance.
Silence was her place of being. She learned to settle anywhere to call it to her. And she listened and taught others to do the same. A few understood, but most others were frightened of what they thought was a void.
Oh, Sister Starwalker wanted to share what she heard in the silence. The whisper of Spirit’s love songs to her. The crows who really did watch and wanted to converse. All the chatterings that can only be deciphered and nuanced when all was still. You see, it wasn’t really silent at all.
Her heartbeat. Yes. In the silence she could hear it beat and as the reverberation spread from her center Light out, she could feel it, hear it entwine with other heartbeats, and together it became one gigantic beat.
Oh, she wanted to tell others what a gift of silence is to calming fears and weaving that red thread to others to finally discover. But most preferred the noise. She understood since it took her a very long time to find her silent place within, to drown out the noise that demanded her attention.
“Silly, little Ego,” she would tell it when it called to her demanding she give her all. “Go take a nap, I have silence to listen to.”
Sister Starwalker had much to learn and, now, had eternity to do it. It was her consecration, something she had searched for and didn’t find until she came to silence.
She had other gifts, too, that helped her in her new quest.
She carried the night with her.
She so loved the dark. When she learned to paint, she discovered it had colors that you couldn’t see until you were quiet and listened for them. There were all shades of blue and grey and green and magenta and oranges and yellows, too. Really! It surprised her the first time she saw them, heard them. And then she could not ever not see them again.
Now that she was at here in silence, she could sit and wait for illumination and then she could hear Ancestors tell their stories to their beloveds. She could shine Moon’s light just where it was needed, like a prism coming through her to others.
On Earth, she was afraid to dream. When she did, her sleep was fitful and she awoke exhausted and sad and angry and scared and, worst of all, unworthy. So she decided to stop dreaming. And she did.
But here, now, she could be brave and stand guard when others were afraid to dream. Sister Starwalker knew the dangers of dreaming. Some, like her Earthly self, were not willing to set aside their fear to hear their stories. But now she learned what she could do.
She grew as a warrior to that which no longer served. She knew how to do that. Now. And even a little bit when she was on Earth.
When she was summoned home, she stepped through the veil and was named. They didn’t even have to tell her. She heard it from deep within and she knew what she was to do.
And she began her night, just like every night…being with Moon, hearing the colors tell their stories, Ancestor whispers, crows sleeping, and listening in the silence to the music of the Universe to discover where she would be needed this night…
There is wisdom in her amaranthine years,
Mother Tree with knotted limbs upturned
to warmth of sun and blessed rain,
all that is needed, a reach to stars in grace.
Her first lesson.
She stands her ground atop a hill,
no other place to be, guardian to any, mother to all.
She provides without clause for we are all connected –
animal, tree, and me.
Lesson number two.
She is champion, her arms for climbers who will dare,
even when they crack her and tumble.
Scars of strength and boundless compassion.
A third lesson from Mother Tree.
Oh, she is far from smooth and frail.
Rough with weather, firm in her being.
In wind and snow she never falters. She bends.
Wisdom worn proudly around her belly,
striations of her years built one upon another.
No need to hide this cicatrix,
her detailed tale of wealth.
In gratitude I see.
She has an altar ascribed by me,
a shallow where an arm once connected.
An open wound where water now runs
like tears during summer warmth
and dried by winter’s chill.
Just enough room for spider’s blessed weave
and my oblation stone, my simple gift to palm unknown.
I’ve learned to relinquish in her joy.
Mother Tree’s scars do not defeat,
they color the universe with compassion.
May her wisdom fill my every day.
May her generous spirit walk with me.
May her chivalrous path inspire.
May her tenacity lead me in my time.
And may I stay the course of gratitude
all along my journey.
In today’s climate, through the pain of telling our stories and being dismissed, my mentor Shiloh Sophia created a workshop called Claiming Our Colorful Scars. As with all the work we do in Intentional Creativity, we become the cause in the matter moving us forward and healing ourselves along the way. We take our stories and re-imagine them into a new way. This is so with this class. There is no charge and you can access at the above link. It is a powerful way to reclaim your voice and move forward.
This piece will eventually become affirmation cards. The back will have the poem handwritten on it, then cut into cards. Then I will write a word that I want to remember as a reframing of my story through this process. I can also use it as a puzzle to piece back together to heal even more scars!
Under deep night sky
where Moon persists in her rhythm
shadowed by Earth’s indulgent round
I stand barefoot
a simple act of reclamation
In this candor I reclaim myself
To honor Earth and all her beings,
above, below, and upon
To restore my body
And allow what I need
Releasing that which does not serve
To restate my possessions
In care and release and
Bring in only what is cardinal
To retrieve my beauty
And give my hands to Creation
To rescue my joy
And dance and sing, drum and make love
And sit with others to know all stories
To restore stillness
For rest and truth
For bridsong and voice of the Divine
And cries of those who call for harmony
I reclaim my being
All that I was
All that I am
All that I will be
Collapsing into matter that is me
And there are lights…
That burn from wax of bees
scenting air with honey dreams
Skipping flames flashing summons
calling ancestors to assemblage
Far away glow in dark of night
assuring steps on safety’s rungs
Specks and dots, twinkling winks
unwavering star ones await our restore
But Solstice Light, the most generous
revelers ringed with sainted halos,
delight in dance and loosened laugh,
create and sing in joy inflamed
Today in PRISM we were given a drawing prompt called Shaping Consciousness. To begin we were to close our eyes and, keeping good humor, draw ourselves and what we feel inside. After several more steps, here I am.
I haven’t stopped smiling since I drew me.
You see, I am not a visual artist in the ways of drawing and painting. But I am required to do so in this course. It employs Intentional Creativity and I am constantly being called out of my comfort zone and in joy.
I couldn’t be in a state of more delight.
I am cause in the matter
Not victim, not to be blamed,
not good or bad
But to stand within the problem
Nudge the walls a little wider
Push the ceiling up a little higher
Stomp the floor down a little lower
make room, just a bit more room
To be true cause in the matter
is to transform
No worry of past or future
Just see what is within and
Without, the web,
fold into a way of being
a new way of being
I am cause in the matter
It is easy to find beauty in the soft,
In round shapes, lovely colors,
sweet smells, exciting tastes,
birdsong and soulful beats
It is hard in thorny angled places
places of judgement,
of worry and ugly and unknown and
helplessness and injustice
and hatred and mockery
and in the inability of the hard
to see or show or acknowledge
their own beauty
I am cause in the matter
To make space, even more for the hard
Even more for me when I ignore
my Beauty within
Make a bit more space,
breathe a touch more deeply
if just a teeny more
to be able to look anew
Be the cause in the matter
Turn just a little bit
Know it is there
42º is where light bends through a prism into a rainbow. Not 41º. Not 43º. Beauty.