Embracing Spring

I have uploaded eight new images to my Etsy shop!

The images come from an early-morning hike I did in Diablo Regional Park this week that was inspiring and refreshing. I am working on making more time for nature adventures, which can be a challenge for me between work and school. Even though I think about taking walks or hikes all the time, for some reason I have a block in my mind telling me it is hard to find time actually get outside. That seems to be changing, though.

And I'll tell you something: I felt happier and more relaxed yesterday than I have in a long time. Plus, the other wonderful side-effect is that I have these pictures to share with you!

Silence

When I visit my favorite oak tree one of the things I appreciate most is how quiet the area around it is. It's not ideal: there is the occasional airplane flying overhead or truck backfiring. But otherwise, the only sounds I hear are bees, birds, cows, and the wind in the grass. I can relax and sit with my thoughts here and it is an ideal place to communicate with nature.

Silence is something we're losing, according to Gordon Hempton, who records sounds of the natural world. It becomes more and more difficult each year for him to find silent places to record the humming and breathing of nature. I applaud his efforts and second his assertion that we need to save areas of silence. Read more about him in this wonderful article in Utne.

Ancestor Art

The Bakersfield Museum of Art is looking for artists to participate in its Visual Arts Festival. This year the theme is roots. The first thing I thought of when I heard this theme was ancestry and I hope to submit a piece.

Works can be no more than 8''x8''. The deadline for entry is April 21 by mail, April 20 in person. Prizes are awarded at the opening reception May 14.

Find out more here.

Working With Synchronicity

I love synchronicity. When it happens to me, I get excited. Some people feel awe, others get creeped out. It can be strange, especially the first few times we experience it. We know something amazing is happening, something we can't explain, and this can either make us uncomfortable or thrilled. I've been in both places.

Recently, two house guests of mine had an amazing encounter with ladybugs. As they hiked along a serene trail in Muir Woods, they happened upon hundreds of ladybugs swarming on a fallen log. Both of them recognized this was noteworthy; they took pictures, mesmerized by the collection of insects. Later on, as they walked along Stinson Beach, they saw a lone ladybug crawling on a rock. Seeing hundreds of ladybugs on a log in Muir Woods was surprising enough, but here was a solitary ladybug in an unlikely place. I suspect that's when they sat up and took notice.

When they returned from their trip, one of the first things they told me about was the ladybugs. They sounded excited and couldn't wait to show me their pictures. That's when I knew this visitation had meaning for them: there was a distinct feeling of awe in the room.

I knew this was a great moment to work waking life as a dream, so I asked them what ladybugs meant to them. Starting from your own meaning of symbols is important. However, in this case, nothing immediately sprang to mind for my friends, so I grabbed Animal-Wise by Ted Andrews to discover what ladybugs symbolize to others.

We learned that ladybugs are lucky in some cultures. They can symbolize wishes coming true. There was another interesting piece to the puzzle: ladybugs can also signal a time when we are pushing too hard for a wish to come true and we need to sit back and patiently wait for it to arrive in its own time.

As we talked, the number three began popping up. One of my friends mentioned her brother had a recurring dream three times that my friend was pregnant with triplets. I realized that the date was 3/9, and then my friends mentioned it was their 9-month anniversary. We all got chills, which were amplified when I read that ladybugs live for 9 months. Then I remembered their plane had arrived at 3:30 p.m., and that they were in town for three days.

The number three is about expansion, creativity, and luck. It is a spiritual number as well: there is the Holy Trinity as well as the Triple Goddess and the Three Graces.

We knew the universe was trying to say something. We talked about it for a while longer and what the signs might mean. Then, at a certain point, we knew it was time to move on.

It is good to eventually stop analyzing all the aspects of such a situation. If you linger too long or overanalyze, you ruin the numinosity of the situation and can miss the important message.

My friends flew home the next day. That night they broke off their relationship. One of them wrote to me a few days later to tell me about it and said, "Maybe the ladybugs signifying that something had run its course was the right interpretation." They saw the life span of the ladybugs as significant and realized they needed to let go of their relationship in order to expand.

I was surprised. I hadn't seen the situation like that. But, my interpretation wasn't important: just like a dream, the interpretation of the person/people experiencing the synchronicities is the crucial one. I was glad I could witness their communication with the Divine through the ladybugs and grateful it allowed them to make an important decision.

The more we work with and honor synchronicities, the more they happen. See if you can detect them in your life. When you do, tell me about your experiences!

Red Door Show

On Friday I trekked with Lance and Susan to Oakland for the opening of Small Work for a Small Space, the show I am in at the Red Door Gallery and Collective. I had no idea what to expect. I've been to a few art shows before, so I knew there would be some mingling, some wine and cheese, and lots of interesting art to see. But I didn't know how I would react. I wasn't that nervous on the drive out, which surprised me. But when we arrived, the nervousness started to creep in.

Those old negative messages played in my mind. They said my art wasn't as good as everything else there, that all the other work was more creative and more likely to sell. The messages left me feeling small. I guess I was a small work in a small space too.

But I also felt proud. Proud that I took the leap and submitted my work, proud that it got accepted, proud that I was brave enough to show up and be with my unease. And I learned that the messages can still be there and I can work through them and ultimately feel good about putting myself out there.

I wasn't brave enough to mingle with the other artists, so after a while we left and walked down to the Oakland Art Murmur. I was inspired by the spontaneous music that sprung up, the vegan cupcakes for sale, and the fascinating art in the galleries. I felt uplifted that so many people are willing to put themselves out there and totally be themselves, and that so many other people come out to support that. Thanks to everyone who came to the show and gave their support to art that night.

Thoughts on Beauty

Do you ever feel your heart surge because something is so beautiful you don't know if your heart is big enough to hold it? Today while driving home I saw big, billowy clouds that were the most amazing shades of white hovering over the green hills to the east. The breathtaking blue sky provided a backdrop and the sunlight painted the clouds with light. The scene struck me to my core and I am surprised I didn't hold up traffic with my staring. I wanted to linger, to really take in the majesty I was witnessing. But, like everything else, the moment was fleeting and now I just have to content myself with its memory.

Ancestry -- Clues To You

I've been doing a lot of work with my ancestry lately, and the further into it I get, the more I learn about myself. I have started to see that my love for nature did not spring from nowhere: my ancestors were people who lived close to the land; many of them were ranchers and farmers.

My great-great grandfather Frank Baxter (the man on the top) was born around 1880 and his family came from New York to Colorado in 1883. They lived in the mountains west of Fort Collins, ranching and farming, according to historical records. At some point Frank moved down to Fort Collins, and eventually to LaPorte, where he ran a general store and post office. In a 1979 interview with his daughter Norma Salisbury (my great-grandmother) and his son-in-law Walter Salisbury (my great-grandfather), I learned Frank ran stables and was involved with horses.

Norma moved to a ranch back in the mountains outside town with her husband, Walter, whose family also homesteaded in Colorado, and their property was up Rist Canyon near Stove Prarie Road.

After my great-grandparents got married, they lived on what was left of the once 900-acre ranch that my great-grandfather's family had homesteaded. They lived there for years running the ranch and enjoying the beauty of the Colorado mountains. It wasn't all idyllic, of course: my great-grandfather, grandfather, and great-uncles hunted deer, elk, and even bears for sport, just so they could hang the heads on their wall, which is something I find hard to deal with. Their love for animals appears far different from mine. But I could sense a deep love for nature in my great-grandfather's words nonetheless.

Walter reluctantly moved back to town after suffering a stroke later in life. His doctor recommended he come down from the high altitude (about 7,000 feet). My great-grandfather didn't think it made much difference (Fort Collins is at about 5,000 feet, after all) and he had another stroke and two or three heart attacks after the move to town. I think he was heartsick for the mountains. He couldn't stand the growth and the noise of the city and he was far removed from the life he once knew. Reading about this was hard for me; I only knew my great-grandfather for a short while, up until I was seven. I remember he would give us a quarter and a cookie every time we came to visit. I don't like to think he was not happy in his final years.

My artistic bent certainly came from my grandparents on my father's side, and perhaps other ancestors I don't yet know about. And my musical talent likely came from my ancestors four generations back on my mother's side. Or, at least, they had a large part to play in passing this on to me, as did others before them. One of my musical ancestors was Clerin Woods, my great-great-great grandfather (the man on the bottom).

According to the Fort Collins Museum, Clerin was a cow-puncher on the great plains. Along with being a rancher, Clerin played the violin for local dances and his wife Emma played piano. Surely Clerin and Emma had something to do with my love of music.

I love knowing these stories. It makes me feel more rooted, more at home in some ways. Sometimes it helps to know where we came from so we can move forward more surely on our path into the future.