just jody: 2018

Sunday, December 16, 2018

Friday, December 14, 2018

Withering

there is a weak root that barely

anchors me to this world... it's

withering

realizing that i need it

asking help of the plant spirits

on a rainy morning walk

Thursday, December 13, 2018

Rooted In Nature

WOW
amazing artists
diana scherer AND mother nature!

Wednesday, December 12, 2018

Sunday, December 9, 2018

"Old Bone Mother is an archetype, a potential; we find her in the old folktales. In the person of Baba Yaga, with her forest hut which runs on chicken legs, and is surrounded by a wooden fence topped with skulls. In the Siberian story of the dead hero who is taken to an old woman in a cave; she sleeps on his bones, and so brings him back to life. In the Mexican story of La Huesera, who takes bones back to her cave and sings them back to life.

Bones are the essence of us, and they always speak the truth. The childish bones buried beneath The Juniper Tree; The Singing Bone with its story of murder and treachery. You can’t fool the bones, and you can’t fool Old Bone Mother. She’ll lead you to the cave; she’ll sleep on your bones; she’ll show you the way to tend your wounds, how to grope your way gently back to wholeness. Old Bone Mother knows all the tricks of the healing dark. But Old Bone Mother knows we sometimes need a little tougher love. She knows when it’s time to let you go, when it’s time to kick you back out again. Back into the world, back on the path, on out into the promise of returning light.

We need to focus on coming back to our bodies, beginning to repossess our instincts, beginning to reclaim our deep connection to the land and its non-human inhabitants. This is how we heal." ~ Sharon Blackie

untethering.....

Saturday, December 1, 2018

Abandoned Art

spent this rainy day making a little journal

to abandon....

Tuesday, November 27, 2018

What Once Was

(image source: unk)

"there are ruins in each of us. a place where

'what once was' lives on like an echo..haunting

the landscape of our lives with its weathered

foundations. abandoned..scavenged..and dismantled

by time..the ruin is the holiest place in our heart.

it is the ways in which we have been broken that

have earned us a place to stand. it is in our life's

absences that a wild longing is born. this ruined

place is a temple in which to worship..to throw

down our grief and our forgetting..and praise

what remains. after all..these remains are the

evidence of how greatly we have loved and

they should be venerated as the legacy of

survival that they are."

~ toko pa turner

Monday, November 26, 2018

A Borderless Land

(image source unk)

"there is a stand of undeveloped jungle.. a place

of indigeneity within each of us..that can never

be domesticated. it is a borderless land..beyond

personality and convention..even beyond thought..

where pure creativity arises. like the signature

song of a tropical bird..the spiraling of an

arbutus tree..the evening scent of a jasmine

bush..there is an essence in each of us intended

to be expressed. few make the trek into this

creative wild..because the path requires great

vulnerability. to come into our true originality..

we must surrender the layers of numbness we

use to protect our hearts"

"many take the path well worn..but they are only
given a half lived life. to those willing to brave
the unknown path..the dark thicket.. a
remembering of love..magic..and purpose
returns. there is a wild woman under our skin
who wants nothing more than to dance until
her feet are sore..sing her beautiful grief into
the rafters..and offer the bottomless cup of her
creativity as a way of life. and if you are able
to sing from the very wound that you've worked
so hard to hide..not only will it give meaning to
your own story..but it becomes a corroborative
voice for others with a similar wounding."
~toko pa turner

Saturday, November 24, 2018

Remembering Ourselves Home

(image: free people)

"with her beguiling beauty..eros will possess you.

she is a singer and a dreamer..whose elements are

mystery..magic..and earth. her voice isn't pretty..nor

is it sweet..but rather scorched with honesty. and

when she sings..the ache of being alive rattles and

resonates deep in your bones. it's with her raw

passion that she pushes blood into an idea..and

makes it dance. her home is in the wild..and she

speaks the language of all untamed beings. she

is the animal body..both fierce and graceful..who

moves with the rhythm and sway of the soul."

Thursday, November 22, 2018

The Gift of Simple Moments

i am thankful... and humbled... to be able to see and feel the things most people have forgotten...the gifts of simple daily moments....softly given....

these aged eyes still watch the sun rise to the score of bird song...see the beauty of leafless trees...and constellations in the morning's frost....

hearing coffee pouring into my cup...the crunch of grass beneath my feet...the wind dancing brittle leaves tornado like around the yard...

and the memories....the memories....

today...as always...i whisper to the wind the names of those i carry in my heart...and pray they be kept safe...and healthy...and well loved...

And on this day of giving thanks...i send blessings to each of you

happy thanksgiving