creative practice, Creativity, instinctive meditation, journaling, meditation, music

Live Event Coming up!

Join me on Saturday 17 June 2020 at HelMel Studios & Gallery for an afternoon of music, meditation and creative exploration.

There are only 30 spots, so be sure to register soon!

Thanks, and I can’t wait to explore with you all!
Get Tickets

course creation, creative practice, instinctive meditation, journaling, meditation, passion, Personal growth, Uncategorized

Bringing Dreams to Life

For quite awhile, I’ve wanted to hold a live in-person event combining music, meditation, and creative exploration. As for so many, events in 2020 put that on pause.

It’s finally happening!

I hope if you are in the Los Angeles area, you will join me on Saturday 17 June 2020 at HelMel Studios & Gallery for exactly that: an afternoon of music, meditation and creative exploration.

There are only 30 spots, so be sure to register soon!

Thanks, and I can’t wait to explore with you all!
Get Tickets

creative block, inspiration, instinctive meditation, journaling, meditation, poetry, writing

Writers’ Block

Image shows black and white photograph of a hand holding a pen, while resting on paper

I sit at the table
and time drifts by.

The weight of the pen is loose
in my fingers.
The paper
cool, and rough.

No matter how long I stare,
thought do not appear.

So I scatter words
across the page

Like bones

And wait
for the Oracle
to reveal
her Wisdom.

instinctive meditation, journaling, perception

Experience and the Power of Observation

William Woodward’s “Biloxi Art Pottery,” 1890s. Oil painting. Collection of the Biloxi Public Library.
Image is a painting of a bearded man wearing a hat, with his sleeves rolled up and making a pot on a potter’s wheel. In the background are windows, and another man in the back of the studio working.

The open door caught my attention first as I walked by. With curiosity, I slowed down, and then to a stop. Sunlight streamed in and highlighted the kiln, which gave off a sense of heat. Stacks of pottery in organized chaos were laid out on a board nearby. In the back of the studio, behind a counter was a person working on a pot, The way their work light illuminated them, and the way they were wearing their knitted hat, took the whole scene out of time, if it weren’t for the modern kiln. I had come across a living chiaroscuro painting. It felt like magic.

The artist sensed me, and a hesitation came across their face. I moved on, glad I hadn’t followed my reflex to take out my phone and take a picture. Back before there were cameras in portable phones, I rarely took pictures. For me, it felt like I could either have the experience, or be an observers and document what was going on, but not feel like part of what was going on.

A few moments later, and down the road, a silver flash revealed someone sitting on their porch, playing the banjo. The person’s face had an expression of relaxed absorption in the moment. I walked down the sidewalk a ways, took out my phone, pointed it to the sidewalk and away from the person to record the sound, and they stopped playing. Right away I hoped they were simply pausing and that I hadn’t interrupted them, even with the distance. Porches are made for sitting on and playing music.

Sitting here now, I’m amazed how much detail my mind caught of the potter’s studio. The lighting, the colour palette, the whole energy of the scene. I credit it in part to the ease of my meditative practice. I find more and more how quickly I can enter a state of relaxed awareness and more fully experience where I am, or what I am doing. Or being. I’m so grateful to have found a way to more deeply connect my inner and outer worlds in a way that doesn’t require anything of me other that being open to follow where the essence of life leads.
The open door caught my attention first as I walked by. With human curiosity I slowed down, and then to a stop. Sunlight streamed in and highlighted the kiln, which gave off a sense of heat. Stacks of pottery in organized chaos were laid out on a board nearby. In the back of the studio, behind a counter was a person working on a pot, The way their work light illuminated them, and the way they were wearing their knitted hat, took the whole scene out of time, if it weren’t for the modern kiln. I had come across a living chiaroscuro painting.

The artist sensed me, and a hesitation came across their face. I moved on, glad I hadn’t followed my reflex to take out my phone and take a picture.

A few moments later, and down the road, a silver flash revealed someone sitting on their porch, playing the banjo. The person’s face had an expression of relaxed absorption in the moment. I walked down the sidewalk a ways, took out my phone, pointed it to the sidewalk and away from the person to record the sound, and they stopped playing. Right away I hoped they were simply pausing and that I hadn’t interrupted them, even with the distance. Porches are made for sitting on and playing music.

Sitting here now, I’m amazed how much detail my mind caught of the potter’s studio. The lighting, the colour palette, the whole energy of the scene. I credit it in part to the ease of my meditative practice. I find more and more how quickly I can enter a state of relaxed awareness and more fully experience where I am, or what I am doing. Or being. I’m so grateful to have found a way to more deeply connect my inner and outer worlds in a way that doesn’t require anything of me other that being open to follow where the essence of life leads.

And how now I have an intriguing potter’s studio I can visit at any time in my mind. I have found a way to both experience and document the world around me in a way that has opened me up to all sorts of possibilities and adventures.