Books

The Middle of Winter

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Nature will do her best to never fail us. She will shine in her own way, in her own season, in her own time. Grateful.

And a poem that just came to me. It seems fitting. By Donna Ashworth.

UNSTOPPABLE

Unstoppable they called her
but I saw her stop
I saw her stop many times
sometimes I thought she had
stopped for good
but no
she always found a way
to rise again
to resurrect
not the same, never the same
unstoppable they said
but I think it was in the stopping
that she found her power

– Donna Ashworth

The Quote that Inspires …

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My new copy of “The Last Unicorn” by Peter S. Beagle (mine is old, beat-up and yellowed.) Why this book now? I have not been able to concentrate well on a novel – just too much to do. Until …

I stumbled across a quote I love from this book in one of my own posts here on stilladreamer.com

“It’s a rare man who is taken for what he truly is. There is much misjudgment in the world. Now I took you for a unicorn when I first saw you, and I know that I am your friend. Yet you took me for a clown, a clod, or a betrayer, and so I must be if you see me so. The magic on you is only magic and will vanish as soon as you are free, but the enchantment of error that you put on me I must wear forever in your eyes.

“We are not always what we seem, and hardly ever what we dream. Still, I have read, or heard it sung, that unicorns when time was young, could tell the difference `twixt the two – the false shining and the true, the lips’ laugh and the heart’s rue.”

~ Schmendrick the Magician
 from “The Last Unicorn”

Sometimes all it takes is a few words, and we’re back in a book.

This magnificent and well-known tapestry: “The Unicorn Is in Captivity” (1495-1505 ) is one of the “Hunt for the Unicorn” tapestries, housed in The Cloisters, NYC.

The Importance of Showing Up

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There are many reasons why we, as artists, don’t do our work, whatever our individual expression is. In the end, it all comes down to fear. I don’t think I need to go into any detail. You know what your own apprehensions are about bringing your beautiful creations to light, or even revealing them to yourself.

But waiting for “the right time” can end up being never. I remember many years ago, analyzing all the reasons why I procrastinated about certain things (most likely my art), and then the comment was, “Sometimes you have to just apply your butt to the chair and just do it.” Point well taken.

So get your tired, unkempt, pajama-clad (if applicable), unfocused, resistant self to wherever you have to be to create and show up for yourself. For your creative self. As unready as you are, get there, and allow something to happen. You’ll be OK. I’ll be pushing myself to do the same.

Meet you at the desk.

And so it begins …

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The end of the Thanksgiving weekend, and it all goes into full swing. For all the things I both want and need to do, this is my goal:

But rarely how it ends up. I’m an organized person, but somehow all that I have to do for the holidays still sneaks up on me, and I am immediately overwhelmed. It’s not just the personal cards and gifts and plans that I have in front of me, but what should be one of the busiest times of the year business-wise is looking me square in the eye as well.

I should have already done more to get my Etsy shop noticed, but this year, I’ve been working on self-publishing my beautiful picture book, Where Do Butterflies Go at Night?. Sadly, the small company that published it went out of business and recycled all copies. I decided to invest the money and purchase the gorgeous original art and the rights; I just couldn’t see my first published book disappearing off the face of the earth. I’m working hard to reformat the entire book (particularly all the artwork), into a size used by self-publishing platforms, as they don’t offer the original published size. Tick, tock, can I get it up on Amazon in time for holiday sales?

Or for my other commitment, as a vendor at the Christmas Market in my own town? Everything seems like it should take an hour or two, and that’s never the case. And then there’s this guy …

You couldn’t ask for sweeter, but Charlie experienced a traumatic event earlier in the year. Too long a story, but he has PTSD, and it expresses itself in his obsessively moving things, pulling things, breaking things. Imagine a cat in a new home expressing his natural curiosity in everything, and then crank it up to mach-speed. With patience, strategic re-arrangement of furniture, and the help of some flower remedies in his water, he’s calming down. I’m surviving, always loving him, but there have been days …

And so the holidays begin. Still aiming for that goal above.

Hoping your holidays are calm and (relatively) stress-free!

Alone … kind of

/ still a dreamer / 2 Comments

If you love animals, chances are good that you are never alone. Whether you have people around you or not, we animal lovers likely have a pet keeping us company. Some think that doesn’t count, but it counts a great deal.

I was thinking this morning; Jazzy passed away nearly two months ago. She was the only animal in the house, and having no little four-footeds padding about is a big change. Of course, we need time to mourn and miss an animal who is no longer with us. But then came an interesting stage which I had not expected. As I cleaned each room in anticipation of a new resident, I noticed that cat hair was not coming back – seemingly an obvious outcome, right?

However, it was an unknown pleasure as I sat down to write each morning … there was never cat hair on the couch. Never. Hmmm …. I could get used to this, I thought, knowing even as it crossed my mind, that I never would.

When I was 20, a junior in college, I took a drive upstate with a friend to visit her former art teacher. The place was a sprawling shambles with cats everywhere, and I mean everywhere. There may have been 30, 40 or more – different ages, appearances, states of health, and none neutered. In the house were two mothers nursing litters, and though I hadn’t planned on it, I took one of those kittens home — an adorable grey polydactl who I named Pharaoh. It soon became apparent that she had distemper. Thanks to the kindness of a local vet, she pulled through, likely the only one of that litter to survive. Pharaoh lived to a healthy 18-1/2 years old, my first pet as an adult.

Since that time, my house has never been without a cat and/or dog except for a week or so after Claude passed away. And even then, there were my next door buddies, Pumpkin and Cloudy, always visiting. Here we are now, at the next stage, looking for the cat who’ll restore that wonderful animal energy to a house where a purr has been sorely missing.