Healing isn't always pretty

It’s been a little while since I last posted anything.

Talking about the fire the other day I was surprised to realize my eyes were leaking.  It wasn’t like I was feeling sad, just recounting a couple of things missing in my life, and my eyes dripped of their own accord.

Sometimes they have to release a little water to maintain my correct internal pressure.

Traveling so much since the fire has helped me mitigate the feelings of loss enormously.  It’s been wonderously joyful to explore new places and meet new friends.

It has helped relieve the pressure of painting daily.  (Although for a good six months I was emotionally unable to paint.)

On the outside it looks like I’m doing well.  My attitude is good.  My life is awesome.  My family is healthy.

What is not externally apparent is the internal struggle I feel some days.  (Not every day.)  There are days when the littlest thing will slam into my good attitude with a nail ridden club.  The resulting depression can last for days.

I try not to talk to anyone on those days.

The good news is that those bouts are getting fewer and further apart.  Their duration is also shrinking.

Historically I was pretty good at hiding my feelings.  It was a necessary talent for me when I was a military dependent or when being a single parent meant protecting my children.  Somewhere in time that ability faded.  Years ago, when I was a betrayed lover, a lot of those defences crumbled.

Now I retreat.

That’s okay though.  At least I’m not retreating from myself right now.  Digging into those emotions when they come up can be painful but at least they’re not overwhelming anymore.  I can somehow sense that there will be light eventually, even when it's dark.

Baby steps.

Maybe that’s why I’m writing this post.  To shed light on a journey that seems long to me right now; to explain my intermittent “absences”.   

I’m starting to paint with greater regularity lately.  My most recent piece, “Shadow Dance” touches on that sentiment a bit.  It’s the shadow being dissipated by joy.

I am relaxing into a routine here on the big island with thoughts of making Mexico a second “home”.

Today is a good day.

Egypt

It took five airplanes and two days (23 hours of which was in the air) to get there and I finally made it!

I was a trip I didn’t think I would ever be able to make but yet, here I was!

If I were a poet, I would have the words to describe the warmth of the yellows and ochres, the dusty softness of the greens, and the crispness of the air. I could recount the overwhelming awe I felt in the presence of such monumental architecture with such precision that you might feel the same breath catch in your chest as it did in mine.

I was honored to be with the Worldwide Indigenous Science Network (WISN), an AMAZING group of 19 extraordinary people. Our group included scientists, Indigenous cultural practitioners, mystics, and artists. We shared a common purpose: to explore the path of the initiates along the Nile with an Indigenous worldview, paired with the scientific method, in order to uncover insights that might be overlooked through a purely Western lens.

If I were to recount the entire experience here, this would be a very long entry (which it might be anyway).

So, here are a few highlights:

My first morning in Cairo, I heard the call to prayer over the Nile at 5:20 a.m. It was still dark. I remembered the first time I heard it years ago, also over the water, but in Istanbul and it moved me in the same way. There is something profoundly spiritual and beautiful about that sound.

We first visited the Giza Plateau. The pyramids… need I say more? It was almost an out-of-body experience.

We had lunch at the Grand Egyptian Museum (GEM) and spent the rest of the day there. Honestly, I could spend an entire day in each wing.

Then we flew to Luxor and boarded our boat, the Gardenia. Is “boat” even the right word? Cruise ship? It felt more like a large yacht, something Cleopatra herself might have traveled on. It was stunning, and it became our home as we journeyed up the Nile.

The Temple of Hathor at Dendera was next. One of my boatmates shared a beautiful write-up about Hathor who is far more than the goddess of love. One line stayed with me: “Joy is medicine.” I love that!

The Luxor Temple at night was breathtaking. Then came Karnak and the room of Sekhmet. For me, Karnak will always be remembered as “the day of the five snakes”—a reminder that even magical journeys carry challenges. Still, my experience in the presence of Sekhmet felt deeply powerful and more than made up for it in my heart.

Next were the Valley of the Kings and Hatshepsut’s Temple, followed by Edfu, and finally Kom Ombo, where we were granted access between 5 a.m. and 7 a.m. before the general public arrived. There, we conducted our archeoacoustic study, our EEG research, and magnetometer readings.

Throughout the journey, we had “dream work” sessions and explored those insights.

I kept reminding myself: “I’m here. . . on the Nile.” Amazement continually washed over me. Watching the shoreline peacefully pass by as our boat moved upriver felt surreal. I don’t fully have the words for how it made me feel. Lucky. Blessed. Changed.

Children, I’ve realized, are the same all over the world. They shout and wave from the shore, and it’s pure joy to wave back.

It was a gift to listen to the stories of my fellow travelers . . people who have traveled far more extensively than I have . . . their wit, their humility, and authenticity were truly inspiring.

I am now back in Mexico, deeply grateful for these experiences, still integrating the feelings, the insights, and the quiet transformation they brought with them.

One of my fellow travelers, Jeff Dunne put it perfectly, “From the spiritual to the nerdy to the silly- and every moment infused with love and welcoming-I cannot imagine a better way to time travel, or a better group to do it with. You are all amazing and I am deeply honored to have connected with you!”

My sentiments exactly!!!

Artist Collab

I had many false starts trying to figure out how to explain, or at very least, describe this past week. I was at an Artist Collaboration that felt like an adult art camp. Saying it like that falls flat. How do you, with words, convey a spark of childlike joy that was fanned into a bonfire?

Let’s start with the basics; there are a few “Artist Collabs” around the world. I heard there’s one in France that’s similar; one in Emma - Saskatchewan, Canada; Frogwood (outside of Portland); New Zealand (which may not happen again for a couple of years) and then, the one I was invited to, in Kona.

Tai Lake and his amazing family have a beautiful piece of property above Kona in Holualoa. It might be three acres (I’m not sure) but it’s large enough to have areas big enough to accommodate the different modalities of creation and their tools. There’s the “Tiny Shiny” area (the jewelers), the Forge (how cool IS it to watch metal being heated and hammered at?), the glass area, wood shop (and all THOSE power tools) and the Fine Art area which also included the textile people. All totaled there were 40 of us.

For almost an entire week we commiserated on projects, shared techniques and created some AMAZING pieces of art. (I reposted a reel on Instagram that showcased some of them.)

Each morning I was greeting by the sounds of machines whirring and sanding, hammering of metal, snippets of music that different areas had playing, laughter and chatter.

During the days we were fed breakfast, lunch and dinner. Time to sit with each other, bond over ideas and banter about life and art. Everyone was so forthcoming with their expertise. The information was so free flowing that, even though I ended up writing notes at the end of each evening, I still missed a lot.

It’s the feeling of the week that stays with me. The wonderful people I met. It’s a camaraderie that I hadn’t experienced in a long time. The excitement had my heart beating, not fast but with force! The strength of it pushing my juices with such drive that my senses were acutely activated.

I am usually alone in my studio and I love it. I listen to music and try to tap into that stream of consciousness where creativity resides.

This was the polar opposite of that and I fell in love with that too.

It was truly an experience that has changed me as an artist . . . . as a human.

Island Hopping

I’ve been in Hawaii for a bit now.  Three different islands, O’ahu, Maui and the Big Island, visiting family and friends.

Each community is different.

O’ahu

I raised my children in the surf community of the North Shore.  There’s a part of my heart that rests there.  Family.  Both by blood and by choice.  I share histories with many of these people and I feel the warmth of those memories when I see them.   I was privileged enough to have been there during an amazing time and that experience has colored everything afterwards.

Maui

I needn’t go into all the mental and emotional gymnastics I go through when sorting out the experience of being back on this land again.  So I won’t.  This time, though, I had the freedom to sit and leisurely talk with friends and saviors.  Ultimately it uncorked emotions that I didn’t realize were still bottled up.  I felt lighter somehow as a result.

The Big

Back in the lovely folds of the big island of Hawai’i where we are rebuilding our lives.  Luckily I have a friend here from long ago and I’m making new ones.  Madam Pele is active right now at Kilauea.  It seems fitting that as the volcano is creating new land, we are here creating new lives.

Cuba

It has taken me a few days to write down my thoughts on Cuba.  It feels as though I needed time to let my mind slowly adjust to the perceptions of what I experienced so they could settle in and take root.

The land itself reminded me a lot of Hawaii.  Similar landscape; palm trees, greenery, ocean breezes  . . . if it weren’t for the old timey cars and buildings that looked like bomb victims I wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference.

Society is WAY different though.  There’s a heavy African influence that flavors everything from the colors of clothing to the underlying beats in the music.  The history of slavery and political uprisings have all left an indelible mark on the psyche of the culture.

 I think it’s the level of poverty that hit me hardest.  I never made it out of Havana so I admit my experience is limited BUT the desperation I found within that city was palpable.

We had been fore-armed with a list of items that were most needed by the general population.  Mostly over the counter medications and clothing.  Everyone in our party was well equipped to help out however we could. 

The economy runs on both the CUP (Cuban dollar, pronounced coop) and US dollar.  Most restaurants have both listed but the exchange rate varied.  Also, the government exchange rate for the US dollar into CUP was just about half of what you could get on the black market.  So, the black market is where we went.

That was its own adventure. 

Some of us had taken those bicycle taxi guides to see the city.  We asked about exchanging money so they took us through a couple of alleys.  Into a dilapidated building, down some dark hallways to a room that had cash and cigars.  I felt like I was in a movie; a little nervous but not overly so because I’ve seen my death and this wasn’t it.

One of our guys had brought his bag that contained things like Aspirin, Tylenol and other sundries . . . once he opened his bag to our drivers a swarm of people descended like flies out of nowhere and started digging in . . . soon it was more like a shark feeding frenzy.  I popped out of the melee fearing I might lose an appendage . . .it was only a matter of minutes before the bag was empty . . . the bag itself disappeared when he offered that up to a late arrival.

All in all I felt honored that I had the opportunity to be here at all.  I remain slightly confused by the differences between the “government-owned” businesses and private ones.  Communism in practice seems different than the story I’d been told.  Still, I don’t know much about it.

Also, I’ve decided that I need to go back.  I want to see the rest of the country, not just the city, charming as it may be.  I want to get a better sense of the spirituality I felt.  There seems to be so much more to experience through the lens of this wonderful place. 

Mazunte

It feels so good being back at the ocean. I’ve missed her! The salt in the air, the sand and rocks are all welcome sights. Being here helps me connect to earth on a deep level.

It’s a new moon. It seems the planets are playing a big part in my journey of late. The year of the serpent. Time to shed our old skins and emerge anew, stepping into the best version of who we are. Leaning into our own power. In an obvious way, I’ve been shedding the old me for the last year and a half.

We had this wonderful “eagle’s next” place to stay (although lugging our bags up the stairs was a feat in determination).

The view was worth it though.  Opening my eyes from the tranquility of sleep, I stepped onto the large balcony to take in the view.  Past the jungle, where humidity remained as a haze, the sun rose slowly over the ocean.  Like a celestial eye, the bright orange sliver of it peeked over the horizon, swelling to a white hot orb.  This had become a daily practice.  Squirrels squeaking, birds singing and the somewhat Jurassic sound of the chachalacas created a beautiful morning song as the perfect backdrop.

The feeling of the land is palpable here, even the rocks seem to vibrate with energy.

Mazunte is another puebla de magico, curiously I didn’t know that when I made plans to come here.  

Other areas close by, San Agustinillo and Zipolite, were equally sweet.  Spending the day on the beach in San Agustinillo was gloriously relaxing.  Drinking water out of ice cold coconuts was a treat, then watching the sunset in Zipolite . . . . all of it .  . . . it’s hard to describe.  It feels like a time slip between Panama’, my youth in California, my ages in Hawaii . . . all meld with the present moment.  All of those times are different notes plucked from the same guitar creating an ethereal song in my head.

Tepoztlán

Arriving on the first full moon of the year felt as though I was emerging into 2025 as a different person.  I had just experienced an intense Temazcal in SMA that left me with the sensation of having been reborn into a new life.  It felt transformative; a punctuation mark to a shift unfolding within me.

It makes me wonder how universal this shift might be.  I can’t imagine I’m the only one feeling it.  It’s been slowly seeping into my consciousness for a while now.  Every step I take brings me a little closer to seeing it clearly. I wonder if Tepoztlán is another step towards that clarity, it being one of the “Pueblas de Magica” (cities of magic) in Mexico.  So far I have not been disappointed in any that I’ve visited and Tepoztlán is no exception.

The town is quaint and brightly colored as most places in Mexico are.  We visited some cute little churches and an old convent.  I learned that the word “convent” didn’t mean it housed nuns, it was a gathering place of sorts.  It was a place that welcomed travelers, there was even an infirmary there.  The word “convent” became “convention center” in later usage.

There are mountains here that rise out of the ground like petrified prehistoric trees.  One of them is locally known as a place where UFO’s land.  (We didn’t see any.)

There’s a sacred pyramid atop one of them and we made the grueling climb to go see it.  It was glorious and Juaquin, our guide, explained a lot of the symbolism carved into its interior sides.

The overall feeling of the place is what made the biggest impression. As I shed layers of unnecessary attitudes and beliefs, I am in a constant state of awe. There are so many places and people that are wondrous and magical.