Who she was and who she is yet to be

Distance from the old formula and associations are sufficient now. Dwelling in the space in between. Who she was, and who she is yet to be. Two poles on the horizon and the space in between the woman who is no longer the wife has a world at her fingertips to unfold in. Unravelled from the restless space of restriction. Tattered and frayed on the edges, the warp and the weft still bold and reaching from the heart. This magic carpet of life still has some enchanted journeys left.

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The Currendero and the Curse

From my astrologers point of view. Mars in my 12th house ( along with Sun, Jupiter, Mars, Mercury ) means all my expression and anger is internalized - hence my love of writing& passionate angry men... and thus The Painter was the expression of much of my internalized forces. .... if you get that kinda thing. I really do. Especially after 12 years of a little Biosphere of my own - of two cosmic forces.. obviously not quite coming together. OR taking 12 years and considering the option... or in his mind.. at this time .. which may not be his mind.. 12 years pretending. Taking our combined charts, it was all forecast. Trouble brewing, powerful planets challenging the status quo. Things that could have stayed subtle and hidden become the catalists for deconstruction. Naturally I grasping on this as reasonable explaination for a change I didnt see comming. Powerless to it all, I watch my beautiful sandcastle wash away. Twelve years of heart matched alli...

The clearing from the Storm

Here in the wild west we can see trouble approaching. We think because we can see for hundreds of miles that we have it all worked out. If you cant see the change coming those with barometric sensititives can feel it coming. Hang around long enough in a small town and all the skills of the tribe become apparent, and sensitivites are often the skill. It takes a village, because a village has a spectrum of influence to offer. In every storm there are those that ride the rapids, and those that seek shelter. I have always been one to provoke the thunder. I watch those clouds loom over our heads with no plans to quench our needs, and taunt them to surrender their burden. Innocent enough until you have been lashed by the strike of fate. So now I wait for the storm clearers, the ones who see where the ruts and grooves funneled the challenge. Their assessment can take days or weeks, but soon enought the true impact will be understood. y

To meet or not to meat

It was an innocent mistake. Truely. Although yes at some stage I did glance at the invitation, but details, what are details in an impressionistic world. Seen today, forgotten tomorrow. Such details will never, EVER, be overlooked again. Because today one of those landmark moments in mistakes of the meat kind. The painter and I are really not one for parties. We would rather linger with a few friends and talk all night. We do go to out to our dear friends, but in a small town the intimacy and interaction can almost overwhelm. So either you are out all the time or you are selective and choose those rare opportunities to mingle and merge. Tonights motivation were more for the sake of introducing our friends to their neighbours. But Oh what a faux pas, and a disservice to our friends. So what have we learnt from this event. Never EVER take meat to a raw food house..... and may be more so, NEVER EVER take PORK to a Jewish Home. To say we were marched out ...

A Portrait in Time

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