Blog

Global circumstances being what they are today have many of us pondering our life choices and decisions.

nehiyaw/Cree term which means ‘take rest’. The world today is offering up a lot of change. As a result people are tired, perplexed and often broken. We are seeking respite, solutions to new problems, moments of joy, and methods of release.

I originally thought this entry would continue the journey of myself as a creative seeker. The topic of ‘welcome’ versus ‘unwelcome’, however, and how that dichotomy plays out in our daily lives became more pressing in my own life, at least for the moment. 

It is with deep sadness that I share the news that one of my beloved painting mentors, Aviva Gold MFA, MPS, CSW, ATR-BC, REAT transitioned on August 31st, at age 83. Aviva crossed the veil, leaving behind a legacy of deep teaching and life-long learning, inspiring many students world-wide to partake in a unique form of creative self-inquiry.

My uncle (through marriage) still lives near the Big Muddy Badlands (Treaty Four), of the southwest. He turned 90 this month and I wouldn’t have missed his birthday celebration for anything. A practical, no-nonsense rancher, I was surprised at how easefully he accepted the gifts, large cake and dozens of good wishes from family and friends. He and I love that land and its beings in similar ways, I’m certain. The area has often been my inspiration over the years, in life and in studio.

I consider myself a straightforward person with a keen eye for beauty and a big heart. I don’t normally share a lot about myself, as I don’t think my life is any more interesting than that of anyone else. This last year, however, I’ve had cause to reflect on why I choose to live as an ‘artist’ and Yoga practitioner. Perhaps there are others who share the same experience and/or might benefit from my reflections. In the coming year I will offer a series of blogs posts focused on my search for creative and spiritual authenticity.

There was a mist this morning when I got up to check the weather. I ran back inside to grab Lily, my 18 year old orange tabby who is dealing with fourth stage kidney disease, arthritis and a new mass that I discovered yesterday. The simple beauty and stillness of the mist was not lost on her, the many birds singing to each other in the Village, or me. We all know it’s the little things that matter.

Given space, time and a range of materials, these ‘non-artists’ allowed their right brains to exercise themselves a little. The results were not only heart-warming to witness, the emotional impacts were, at times, astonishing.