What Are You Afraid Of?

What Are You Afraid Of - Darla Jackson alfalfalovesme.etsy.com

I picked up a ceramic rabbit sculpture at a vintage store a few months back, completely oblivious that the new year would be the year of the rabbit. I debated purchasing it for my totem shelf on top of our vintage barroom piano, mainly because I usually think of rabbits as timid, fearful, but instinct won out and I placed it right next to the she-wolf of Romulus and Remus renown, and the rhinoceros and crow sculptures. Yes, the collection is eclectic and interesting, and also something of a window into the workings of my psyche.

Rabbits are beautiful and pleasant, but I've never really considered them to be totem material. My mother had a pet rabbit named Harvey, which she kept in the backyard. The rabbit was enormous, and the backyard/pasture vast. I could always locate Harvy as a big white spot in the landscape. I have no idea how Harvey came to live with us. The rabbit has been gone for years now, but I remember what a source of delight and humor Harvey was. I was the one who discovered him when he died, and buried him under the tree in the pasture next to a multitude of graves for other pets and small livestock.

I love this sculpture by Darla Jackson, and especially the title. Here the timid rabbit has donned a crow mask to ward off conflict or enemies, just like all of us do on some level. I've always loved crows, and on a deep level identify with this bird. After coffee this morning a murder of crows, probably fifty birds were in the wheat field pecking out a meal.

What are you afraid of?

Good question. Here are my top fears/confession time:
1. I'm afraid that my procrastination and perfectionism will keep getting the best of me and I'll never finish my novel, the one I've been "working" on for years and years. My goal for 2011 is to finish it. I mean it! My goal is to write without judgement, write every day, just write, then clean it up, and send it off. My goal is to put it out there and give it a chance.
2. I'm afraid I won't say the words that have needed to be said for the past three years. No one will die if I say them. Yes, things as they are will change dramatically, but for the best, I believe. I've been waiting for the right time, the right circumstance, and honestly, the time has always been now. My goal for 2011 is to say them and get on with it.
3. I'm afraid I won't allow myself to be who I am meant to be, and honestly, this is the easiest to change. I've already started getting out of my rut, revisioning where I'll be, what I'll have accomplished, what I'll be doing, how I will be in the world by this time next year. My goal for 2011 is to stop distracting myself being the jack of all art trades and focus on living my life on my own terms and this ultimately means sitting my ass in a chair and getting the words on paper.

Yes, for a brief time I considered myself on the artist's path, and I am artist, but it's not my life path. I used to have shows, some I suppose were important in my small pond, but what I've discovered is that my art fuels my writing, and I've been using taking classes and focusing on painting, sculpting, jewelry making, glass making, and even publishing a journal, etc. to keep me from writing, so instead of fueling my real work, it's sumblimating. I really have been a rabbit, fearful of putting my writing out there.

In retrospect, some of the fear was warranted. I really was working on my novel, but when I got to the heart of it, something terrible, like stroke, heart attack, death, accident happened and I got sidetracked. The sky was falling, but it wasn't because of the novel, it just was, but of course I connected the two and ran for cover back to the arts, but really only half-heartily. I was asked to participate in a show a couple years back and the whole thing fell through, although a piece of mine was purchased and was to be exhibited, but it wasn't. I've been asked to participate in two shows and declined because I wanted to work out sculpture details. I really think all of this was a test, and the truth is, my heart wasn't in it or I would have moved heaven and earth to make it happen. The same for almost every venture the last three years, including a journal I dearly loved. My printer going bankrupt, a key editor's accident, and the failing economy shifted everything,not to mention I made every amatuer mistake possible, and now I realize I should have gone digital rather than print from the beginning, but the past can't be redone.

Honestly, I think all the problems were connected to waiting for the time to be write, so the focus would be spot on. That time is now. I have no idea where the writing will take me. I do know I am starting from scratch, from the very first word.

The last three years have been years of stripping the bone clean so I could finally see what matters most. Although 2011 is the Year of Rabbit, it is the Year of the Hermit for me. I will sit in a chair and write. Period

So, what are you afraid of?

This Moment: December 30, 2010 8:06 A.M.

The Universe's great bully Saturn is flexing his muscles this morning. I for one am tired of his jabs and blows. Snow covers the leaf-laden ground and the view from my window is sterile, frozen, cold. The tiger has one more day to roar its ownership of this pick and shovel year until the rabbit seizes his throne. I am a tiger, a dreaded girl child born under this sign in the early morning hours: restless, searching, always looking to pounce. The winds of yesterday forgotten, a branch nods lazily in the harsh air. The man I live with, his mother, her heart and lungs have forsaken her. This woman beat the deprivations of world depression, six wars, and yet, as always, we humans lose the battle with ourselves, no matter how valiant, how wise, how noble. It is always a matter of time. The living, the hale, arrogant and secure in their bodies, continue on. There is no other course. A dun-colored bird flies into my neighbors apple tree. Rusted orange leaves the sole survivors of another season.

Poem Therapy at 8:48 P.M. - December 22, 2010: Marianne Boruch

Snowfall in G Minor
Marianne Boruch

Overnight, it’s pow! The held note
keeps falling. And only seems
slow. Because it’s just
frozen rain, what’s the big deal? the checker
in Stop and Shop told me.
Save warmth
like stamps. The fade of their color
in the 1920s. Airmail. The pilot with his
skin-tight goggle helmet on his
miniature head could be
snow-blind.
All heads are small. Mine’s
lost as a thimble
in this weather. Where
a finger should be and be
sewing, every thought
I ever thunk.
Just this word
thunk. Never used.
It lands, noisy
metal in a bucket. That’s
the last of it. No echo
for miles of this
snowfall—as in
grace, fallen from,
as in a great height, released
from its promise.


Although the weather here hasn't made up it's mind if it's going to really snow or just rain, just close to fifty miles south of where I live, it snowed relentlessly.

The full eclipse of the moon was visible last night for the first time in 500 years the news reported yesterday. The moon disappeared close to midnight. I forgot to walk outside to see the moon fade to black. The eclipse ushered in the winter solstice, the true star of the season, the reason every culture the world over celebrates the coming of the new year.

All I can say is that I am thrilled to say goodbye to 2010 and welcome in 2011. The year of the rabbit feels hopeful.

Holiday Card #3 - Goddess & Baraka

May your holiday be abundant with family and good friends!

Best wishes,
Danna

Goddess - Danna. Mixed-media collage/digital painting.

Baraka
Danna

the world is a doorway
even stone will yield to the imagination

spirits in the air
hovering above us like clouds

the world spins around us
animals that we are

rock and sky
water and dirt

fire creating its own wind
beauty enough to break your heart

we are earth and sky flying free
glistening like a jewel in the sunset

Holiday Card #2 - Halo Goddess & Alchemy

Halo Goddess - Danna. Mixed-media collage/digital painting.

Alchemy
Danna

the refiner's fire
turns base metal precious gold
more precious than body of carbon,water, salt

let our blood be turned to wine
let us sanctify ourselves
let us become golden

Holiday Card #1 - Red Angel & Where We Live

May your holiday be abundant with family and good friends!

Best wishes,
Danna

Red Angel - Danna. Mixed-media collage/digital painting.

Where We Live
Danna

A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it. -George Moore

House
The house sits far back from the infidel road, named for the two gentile families that settled along it over one hundred years ago. A wide expanse of lawn is punctuated with Oak, Pine, Linden, and host to birds of every variety: owl, dove, crow, hummingbird. The occasional peacock, ibis and crane are particular favorites. Behind the calculus of the structure and lives sheltering within the rooms, a wheat field covered in a light scurf of snow is flanked by a country lane populated with Globe Willow, Pine, Maple, and Honey Locust, each planted for the farmer and his wife’s seven children. The middle daughter’s tree is a tangle of branches armed with sharp, flat thorns.

Tree
The tree was once rooted in the memorial park next to railroad tracks and was planted in memoriam the year the Jazz Age began to swing. In springs’ long past, waxwings would swarm the Mountain Ash and feast on its berries until drunk and fall to the ground, their tiny hearts swollen and giddy. The tree is gone now, cut down and his memory replanted with a sapling, but the soul is a restless traveler and will not be contained by flesh.

Body
The body is a destination imagined in the soft hue of morning light as a glimmering on the horizon. The body is a being composed of organic and trace elements, proteins, lipids, salts and sugars, a dual snake helixing around its secret code. Within its borders it holds the mysteries of the soul.

Home
Home is house, tree, body. Home asks to be opened, its heart grateful to be held in gentle hands.

Art As Inspiration - Sarah Wyman Paintings

Bounding Main- Sarah Wyman. 5 x 7 print sarahwyman.etsy.com.

Sprial Betty.5.5 x7 wood mount print.

Although she hasn't updated it for some time, check out more images on Sarah Wyman's blog.