Ah...Tis the season to get caught up on archived everything. Tis the seasons to find out why your passwords don't work and play the secret word game. Are they kidding! You set up these passwords and questions 2 to 3 years ago.You're not crazy. You have them written down, but you are not recognized anymore. Like many, the frustration about who you are, mounts up and eventually you say...next time. At least I figured out this one. I'M BACK I AM TOLD.

Meltdown saved by the heart

remember no caps yet, working with one hand only. awoke to tears today. as i looked at my art hand helplessly flailing about in pain, i envisioned what an artist would do without the hand to produce art. tears kept coming as my brain painted a false reality. would i face making lemonade from this bitter lemon?as the "poor me" grew, my heart shifted in talking about the other side - options, opportunities, new awakenings. " art with the other hand may be a new look. hire people to create your ideas, its done all the time. get dragon software to computer write what you say for books. rep others, that was part of the original plan anyway. your brain is fine and offering branding ideas to others needing the creative spark to grow their business is still a possibility". as the heart spoke, and took over, i saw new ideas. tears lifted and a deeper peace and awareness shifted in. my gift in my passion 4 action system is helping others needing to get through transition. whether its a love lost, new career to face, or illness that changed life in a minute. helping people with how the heart can be the guide is what i do. now that i have experienced it, i can be a better guide in how to go from from adversity to deeper growth.

how will you guide others this year? what can you or your brand offer others facing transition? for me the answer was using my heart-centered, caterpillar method, one foot-at-a-time to find my joy.

Art keeps holiday memories

I awoke in major arm pain with the cast squeezing my last smile. I broke down and finally grieved for my hand, as I apologized, for yet another time, for being stupid on a ladder. I had to stop that unforgiving tape, and move on. I went for a happy visualization of this same day. A cold snowy night, we were bus tired and off a bus in the heart of Stratford-on-Avon, Shakesphere's land was dream enough. As we entered the new town Hilton, under great scrutny for its modern brick look, we saw a big Christmas lobby tree. No food available and exhausted, we all hit the sheets. Our body clocks were way off. We awoke at 9PM. Contacted 2 new travelers and went exploring the fog filled town, searching for dinner.Through the door we heard fun and excitement in a pub. We knocked at the inn door, "no room available at this private party", we heard a voice from the back...Oh let the bloody kids from the colonies in", a door to an art dream era opened. Beer pints in hand, the neighbors welcomed us to their private world. Roast turkey and all English trimmings, bubbles (potatoes)and squeak ( brusslesprouts, cabbage) were served. The boys drank pints and played darts with locals. I  looked at and smelled the large hearth yule log burning, creating a glow on faces I had only seen in famous paintings.Men burst through, dancing with high black socks, ribbons on hats, clogging. A new energy filled an already idealic vision.Morris Men entertained, red faced, chapped nosed children's faces, playing by the firelight, entered my visual painting. This is the same lighting Raphael used, or Renoir painted, until now, I didn't understand that palette. I had stepped back into an artists time and Kenny and I were bathed in a painter's light. That English Christmas card lives with me forever. I was living my art school dream. The 70's are gone, my husband passed but this artist's vision is still is alive. 
Blessings this holiday everyone. When we bathe in light, nothing can be wrong.

    

Messages are everywhere DAY2

As I  awoke, needing pain meds, I noticed bells and a metal angel hanging on to my bedside lamp stand.As I have been fading in and out, so have my dear friend's visits where they have left symbols of their messages behind. Lili my guru friend made a wrapped copper wire angel wing piece of art, supported energetically with a crystal crusted slab of agate geode.She broke off a section from my cedar tree for me to smell when I returned from the hospital.A small, all brass angel, from an ornament box, now is perched on the metal leaves of the lamp. She blows a trumpet - Gabriele's horn  I  assume.A large hand ringing bell, a forged replica of an obvious ancient time was given to me by my 103 year old mom to hear my calling her. There's a crown is on top of a queens head. A small gold sleigh bell on red satin rope has also shown up on the lamp shade. On the bedside table is an artists mini vase I had to have at a show. A frog sits on it holding visual court, where 3 oils and sticks hold  a healing sensory experience each whiff. Symbolism is everywhere. Messages of encouragement are all around us. It is that "Oneness" I speak of a lot.I believe surrounding ourselves with subliminal messages is common place for us. These symbols, dating back centuries, given by others to me, will make their way into my next piece of art...30 DAYS OF HEALING. Although my hand can't work yet, my mind is already designing the piece.  
Oils of anointment rituals before Christ, Angel Gabriel's horn of freedom, a crown to remind me God is there and  I  am worthy with each ring, wings of protection in this world of friends and the next, a sleigh bell used to inform travelers of others coming, not to collide and finally a frog reminding me life is all about transformation and change is always there. Put it all together and it spells GET WELL from many ages.

Art as a pain killer

In 3 hours I go under the knife as they say in the medical world. As I lay here, a powerful graphic, the Sym.bol.ogie of this event, has entered my prayer talk. While talking to my guidance, I heard, "doing your art is the closest thing to your higher spiritual self. Totally heart related, the heart of oneness has entered visually. By planning the vision of your new venture, and staging it around your bed, you have set sacred space to move beyond mental pain. You have released energy, like endorphins, that is more powerful than the physical experience." As I heard and sensed this, I realized I  had awakened with my arm cast spread across my chest, something I wasn't able to do when body aware. It was sitting over my heart, and I couldn't feel pain in that "between world" state. Was art, the creative spark, the true door to the soul experience? They seemed to be connected. The thrill of wanting to get better to now achieve this symbolic out-picturing was now more dominant than the pain. The plan of giving 2 small pieces of art to the 2 doctors came next. I knew I had to get well. There was a new drive.  I also noticed, I can' feel a hand there anymore while in this state. NOW...AWAKENED, THE PAIN IS FULL SPEED, but the symbol is now etched and waiting to become art. Blessings to these beings.

Creating in Bed

I have often said that creation happens first in bed. With my latest situation, I never thought I would use my bed as my studio. Last week I broke my wrist and tomorrow I will have an operation on my dominant, money hand. I had no idea how much I depended on my left hand. How does the song go..."you don't know what you have till it's gone". Not doing art for a Gemini is death. I needed to do something to put my Passion Qualities out front. to, some how,  look forward to this next journey into my creative muse. A new exciting direction was needed, Maybe new media to explore would excite me. I'm a strong Visionary", and I know me and boredom with same-same. Something new had to be waiting on the horizon...SOON TO PEAK MY INTEREST. The new project, study and research now took precedent, My new inner voice calling was the extensive study of "Sym.bol.ogie", also my new line of Object 'd Art".. My new obsession was going to consume me as I learned from culture to culture how art and message were, have been and will be married by me. I set the stage for research books, juicy art tombs, and basic materials that, hopefully, an unsuspecting right hand can achieve. I built my "creativ" fortress, AROUND MY BED, with all I would need for a week of "Poor Me"retort. Everything needed to be at fingertip reach for that sudden burst or inspiration. Ask, and it shows up. My friends jumped into the hunt, starting at the library. How great is this? All those books, I coveted, will now be read, As I looked around, I recalled rainy days as a child, dragging out everything from crayons to cut-out dolls  for my little Maple table and chairs. I didn't want to be board. Those were happy days of exploration...without pain.That will be my emotional focus, Who knows what a lost hand can achieve while waiting.

 

A door closing

Kat's RESTYLE EMPORIUM is closing here in Florence. I'm not sure it is me or my back that has decided to close. I'm not getting any younger and this hauling is taking a toll. It doesn't take as much muscle to teach all I know. So this weekend is  the BIG store sale. At this point my store inventory is in my home. Tripping over things definitely changes your opinion on prices to reduce inventory.
So some people will get good bargains this weekend.