People's of The World

Ahh..people’s of the world...you are so beautiful.

Kidnap me in Samoa, make me a princess and give me a tattoo.

Knit me a hat in Machu Picchu, take me to the sacred heights.

Lead me to your Buddha in Japan.

All you, who are indigenous, gorgeous, mysterious–

take me there–let me feel, see, taste, touch–show me your secrets.

Teach me your balance.

Shine on us your love of life–

and the orbs that so happily glow from mother earth.

–Jennifer Miller
(prayers and love to people of Samoa and Indonesia after the tsunami and earthquakes this week)

BEcoming a nOn-SeRious aRtisT

"In my experience, it is not the act of making art that is painful. It is the desire to make something and not acting on it that causes pain. "--Julia Cameron

I went to Barnes & Noble on my lunch hour in search of "Floor Sample" by Julia Cameron. At first, the nice woman at the reference desk could not locate it. I said a quiet prayer as she checked the tables up front. The Universe (God) is good--she found it on the bargain shelf--that works for me. I put down Paulo Coehlo's "The Witch of Portebello" and agonized over Julia's "The Vein of Gold". "Floor Sample" to my surprise is a pretty thick book and should take a while to get through (I'm a slow reader) and will do just fine for now. I can't wait to start reading it---tonight. I found this great article by Julia Cameron that really speaks to my heart.

http://colveyco.com/gallery-annex/reading/cameron.html

I am on a journey to find myself--to find out what it truly means to be a human, to be me, without outside impressions, judgements, or distractions. I have asked myself many tough questions in the last few days, and am in search of answers. The answers are always provided when we are seeking. I whole heartily believe this. I am looking forward to creating as a non-serious artist--but I am definitely an artist, none the less. I am so curious to see if I can set aside my "suffering" and tap into a place of beauty, hope, peace and discovery and see what kind of art and writing comes out. My sister katydiddys introduced me to "The Artist's Way" years ago. I bought the book, but never read it, I guess I just wasn't ready---but she helped me to begin my journey through encouragement and exposing me to resources to become the writer and artist I am today.

D And The Clowns

I watch her sort through the box of clowns.
She carefully lifts each one out of the pink tissue paper.
They are the remnants of the other half of her legacy.
A family that abandoned her.
They are her father.
She tells me about each one. I feel honored.
"These are the babies" she says,
"These ones look like acrobats, dont' you think?"
"This one is cute, he's my favorite, but this one looks kind of creepy"
and "this one is very breakable."
just like your heart, I think to myself.
little does she know, that in years to come,
she will have to sort through the box of clowns many times.
but not alone.

--Jennifer Miller

"Send In The Clowns"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BnwJ5KIcKX4

God Save The Queen

(Anne Boleyn In The Tower by Edouard Cibot)

God save the queen

and her magistrates

as well.

Keep her from the hand basket

that's on it's way to hell.

Call out every guard,

joker and knight.

May he keep her safe

and set her straight

on her royal plight.

Lock the castle doors--

seal the town walls

raise the drawbridge,

sound the call.

Summon the prince to rush to her side.

"All is well"

the town crier cried.

~~Jennifer Miller

The Limping Goddess: She-Who-Survives by Pesha Joyce Gertler

(I did not write this, but I'm "feelin' it". It's by Pesha Joyce Gertler. I found it in the 2010 We'Moon Datebook I am reveiwing at work. I just had to share it with my fellow Goddesses.)

She limps into the room
bent with the cargo of rape, battering
single-parent mothering and bureaucratic neglect
if she is fat or gay or nonwhite or Jewish
the pains multiply;
she has carried them all.

Her lotus feet have trudged this planet
for aeons; torn tennis shoes tell
how far she's traveled. She hunches
against the winter wind, her second-hand
coat like a blanket she wraps around
her golden body. Occasionally, she flies
over buildings, lands on tree tops,
is mistaken for a fat bird.

And occasionally, she falls,
intensifying her limp. But make no mistake;
that golden skin was mined in the black earth,
her feet, though limping and calloused,
are the lotus feet of She-Who-Survives.
A broken yet shining forgotten deity
returning, and there are millions
like her, multi-colored, limping
Goddesses returning to lay down our cargo
and reclaim our own.
--Pesha Joyce Gertler 1983