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.

Planets Aligned

Jan 25th the planets aligned.

It’s funny how things work out.  We were scheduled to go on an all day tour to various places around Oaxaca.  Going on the tour meant that we wouldn’t be back in time to attend a sound healing ceremony that was hosted by our friend Ernesto Olmos.

As luck would have it, we couldn’t get a taxi to take us to the meeting place of the tour . . . so we had to reschedule.  

Meaning . . . . we were able to attend the sound healing.

Ernesto Olmos is of Zapotec lineage.  He’s an artist, a musician and a healer who has spent his life in those pursuits.  His handmade drums and flutes are imbued with his artistic style and healer spirit.

I wore this amazing necklace that Amber had given me.  It was full of shells and crystals.  I don’t wear it often but since the planets were aligning, I thought it was the perfect time to do so.

The sound healing itself was amazing.  Between the traditional instruments and Ernesto’s clear, strong voice it was easy for me to drop into a deep meditation.

I felt as though my entire being became liquid, water that held my physical shape but lacked opacity and was a clear aqua.  Then huge, glorious wings sprouted from my back, they also had the same liquidity. I could feel them as they spread out, sloughing off their previous containment.

There were many stages of this in my mind.  The planets, the necklace, smell of copal, Ernesto’s voice, drums and instruments all formed a vortex swirling round and round. That magnetic ladder pulled me up and into another dimension.  

I won’t go into all of it here because I’m still processing and integrating it. Suffice it to say, I was deep in the meditation.

Afterwards, during the friendly banter, Ernesto apologized for setting my hair on fire.

“What?” I asked incredulously, my hands shot up to my head to feel around, suddenly aware of the unmistakable smell of burnt hair.

“Yes,” he said, “one of my flutes has a flame in it. When I came to you a gust of wind picked up a ball of flame and it shot into your hair.”

My probing fingers found the area of singe.

“You didn’t feel me putting it out?” He asked.

“No,” I answered still feeling out the damage.

He continued, “I think it was getting rid of ancestral trauma.”

I was busy smelling my hair and judging whether or not I needed to see someone with scissors. I decided it wasn’t too bad and couldn’t help but laugh.

(By the way, the last photo of all the planets was taken by the James Webb telescope)

Getting sketchy again

It amazes me how often the fire reminds me of itself.  Today I am working on a painting inspired by the full moon last night.  One of the elements in this painting is the face of a jaguar, maybe a panther, I’m not totally sure but regardless; I used to have a sketchbook that contained drawings of different cat expressions . . . . gone.

The thought of it reminded me of countless sketchbooks I had filled over the years.  Some with pages of notes and designs, others with sketches of trees and nature  . . . still more with ideas of compositions.  The memory of them, then the realization of the loss of them hit me with a thudded blow to my gut.

I voiced these feelings to a friend of mine.  After listening for a bit she asked if she could throw in her two cents.

Of course I said, “yes”.

“You need to just move forward,” was her advice.

I wanted to rail against that completely and take a big gulp from the well of self-pity. At very least, the petulant child in me wanted to complain and plead my case about how I was entitled to some measure of sympathy. 

Ultimately though, I know she’s right.

Slowly the sobering realization dawned on me that none of those drawings were all that great.  Mostly they were ideas quickly jotted down.  I don’t think anyone other than myself could have ever deciphered them.

As is the case with most of us, I’ve suffered a boat load of losses.  Each one seems devastating at the time but the reality is that life goes on.  Sometimes leaving scars that eventually fade, sometimes gaping wounds that need outside help to heal.

I acknowledge that I didn’t refer to those sketchbooks that often.  So how important were they really?  The pang of their loss subsided.

I realize now I need to create my current thoughts in sketch form again.

Hopefully, with more attention to detail but not so much that they become precious.  I don’t want to attach any value to them so that losing them will be nothing more than a fading mosquito bite.  That’s the thought that catches in my throat a little.  How do I move forward?  How do I enjoy the magic that surrounds us and remain aloof?  How do I care without attachment?

I guess that’s a question for a longer day with worse weather or maybe I’ll ruminate on it in my next meditation.