Saturday, September 24, 2005

Hermitage Publications Seeking Submissions

Invitations soon to be sent out, or email if you would like guidelines....golden opportunity to have your original ideas recognised.....Imogen Crest, Hermitage Publications, Hermitage Regions.

( Passport Carrying Travellers only..)

Monday, September 19, 2005


As I was reading the other night I ran into an essay I wanted to share with all of you. It seemed to click into place unasked answers I have had in the back of my mind and gave me a push along the path of visualization I needed. Hope you too enjoy:

Quote from :
by: Phil Cousineau
"To me continuity is at the heart of this whole discussion on soul."……….."It can be something as simple as the glean in the eye of your grandfather in the photo from 1915……If I contemplate that, I’m contemplating the mystery of soul. If I put my hands on the Chartres Cathedral and actually take in the mystery of that community…how a community could last and move people for 7 hundred years, I’m contemplating the community of continuity of things. And, that’s a contemplation of soul, the depth dimension of life."

"………The reading of a fairy tale, the journey to an ancient sacred site, the cultivation of true friendships are all ways to contemplate the things that last, that are continuous. When we reach that mystery, we’re nourished in a profound way.

"If we are not in touch with the mythic stories, with ancient sites, with old family scrapbooks and heirlooms and deeply probing relationships-we are lost. If all we do is keep up with change, I think we loose the momentum of our souls journey. But once you touch an old story, a true mentor, or the mysterious powers of nature, somehow your soul is nourished and, by the movement that still mystifies me, you find the courage to go on.

Saturday, September 17, 2005

Hi again everyone

I've been away for a while. Thanks again, Heather for welcoming me back after I lost all my membership details and couldn't log on to post. Now I'm more able to blog and am in danger of being addicted to it. LOL!

Here's some of what I've been making during my absence.

This last one's in Filipino. The faces are from paper money in denominations of 20, 50 and 100 pesos. The words, roughly translated, speaks about my home being made of paper (paper money) and the support of friends who lent their support in my decision to live on my own.

Friday, September 16, 2005

Em's Reply to Churning

Em A'fore

she stood radiant as the rose
yet honest as the star that glows
transfixed on thoughts of far
yet present, timeless as that Star

outstretched arms with flowers filled
heart throbbing to an ancient thrill
a beam of knowledge across her placid brow
bending only to what is here and now

he knelt at her knee with burdens great
she touched his heart with a happier fate
his tears washed her hands with a twist of glee
as she granted him entrance a'fore her knee

a fore night and fore ever lover she laughed anew
no more cowering in a life so torn and askew
his gentle heart of a poet's dear
and without further fore word they disappeared

Thursday, September 15, 2005


My trip to the Well of Forgiveness
set my mind churning, so I may as well (pun)
pester this blog as well as others.

papa faucon


"Where then is now?" I asked of She found upon the hill;
withered by other's sorrows --
stooped by needless pain --
but beautiful for all of that.

"To understand you must come a'fore me"

"What color the song?" I implored of She found in forest grove;
strong as the bending willow --
swift as the laughing stream --
but fanciful for all of that.

"To know this you must come a'fore me"

"What does this mean?" I asked myself, lost in the quick of then;
bold as pepper in green tea --
brave as the seeds of miracles --
but a simple man for all of that.

"please grant that I come a'fore thee"

I thought she meant I must reach back
to ancient mem'ries and currents lost,
or to address her from a certain stance,
perchance to see eyes or open hands.

"You came for nothing, else you come fore,"
she whispered before fain twilight gone;
and touched my lips with a dew drop
from a faerie flower yet unborn,
and I knew in an instant
why I was there.

"I give myself permission to fore-bear my dreams --
I fore-give myself for being me --
I will sing of fore-tune as is my right --
And I give to thee fore-ever,
just because I can!"

And as I then had faith,
I needed her not at all --
but She will always be with me,
just a'fore I am.

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

Interfering with Mother Nature

Last night, I stepped outside to admire the stars for a moment or two. Lights of suburbia tend to dim the full glory of the sparkling pinpoints. How I love to look to the heavens scanning the sky for comet dust or satellites!

On the small back porch, I noticed a praying mantis perched on the top of my everyday walking stick. Drawing close to him, ( I first thought him/her a stick bug) I noticed how his head uncannily resembled the artwork depictions drawn by people who claim to have been abducted by aliens.

He walked off of my prized piece of wood and headed upwards towards the backporch light. Even thought the bulb is a bug light, designed not to attract, there are numerous active spiders building webs there. The mantis walked into a web straightaway, but the spider was busy wrapping and rolling his evening meal, which was some sort of smaller winged insect. I grabbed my stick and removed the mantis to a nearby bush, away from the possibility of his own vital juices beign drained for a spider feast. I gently touched his long, papery feeling body. He allowed me to pet him. I'd never stroked a praying mantis before. A few minutes later, he flew back to the porch and headed for the light and the danger zone once again. It crossed my mind that perhaps I was not to interfere with whatever scenario would be played out in the intricate web of nature. Nevertheless, I retrieved him on the end of my stick once again, putting him away from the light. I walked into my home quickly, shutting the light off in the hopes of deterring him from accomplishing the event that occurs when creatures are captured in silken webs.
Will I find him this morning, (wrapped tighter than a mummy) in the place he was determined and seemingly predestined to go?

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

To the Fore

As was foretold,
I am returned to this gate and lantern --
fresh from sipping waters of clarity
at the Well of Forgiveness,
to prepare for those who will soon come
seeking their own birth of dawn.

Last weekend, my car died --
and with it my PT job,
bringing me to a crossroads.
Do I continue my dream of seeking peace --
time to write and muse,
but thereby be prey to adversity?

Or do I again take up sword and shield
and prepare to challenge the
windmills of pretentious greed
and shattered ethics of the 'real' world?

as I could not sleep ...
I penned this -- for myself perhaps.


to 'Gusari' or not -- that is the question



"What am I for? one might ask,
and be plunged into a turgid sea
filled with pensive flotsam of despair,
drifting helplessly toward oblivion.

'forget', 'forlorn', 'forgive', 'forbid', 'forgo'
are but a few reminders of our trained response
to wallow in the past -- to embrace regret,
ennoble grief and worship guilt and shame.

Consider instead the essential light and grace
of those words championed to the 'fore';
'foresee', 'foretell', 'forecast', 'forever'
that draw me out and on in certainty.

Here lies, in oft ignored exactitude,
the profound difference between
'responsibility' and 'accountability',
for those, of course, who do not revel
in finding someone else to blame.

To take up some measure in 'response'
is not to be maligned or ignored;
but is but another way of looking back
and to 'steer by the wake', you see.

How much more in tune with creation
is the call 'to be counted' in advance;
to take full measure by preparation
and thereby be one with quest and birth.

'Stand up', my friends. "Come to the fore!"
You cannot 'stand under' anything,
unless you escape the chains of believing,
shackled to the past mistakes of others.

Take those sad words a-for-mentioned,
And implant an 'e' which is a form of 'I',
and engender such pride of ownership
in claiming what no other can ever be.

'forget' dwindles before goals as 'foreget';
while dread 'forbid' dies stillborn
in the bold phoenix of 'forebid',
which claims by right your destiny.

Do not 'forgo' that which you might 'forge'
on the anvil of your soul and passion's fire.
Let others 'forbear' their chosen misery --
bravely 'forebear' Children of Light.

And most of all, cast aside 'forgive' --
reach into the well of your own spirit
and 'foregive' freely of self without condition,
granting selfless love -- because you can!

The song you hear is a bold trumpet call
of wild geese now on the wing and all;
to lead in dance and down treacherous path,

as one who would 'forego' that others may follow.

Saturday, September 10, 2005

" Tremble Lemuria "

Faucon you have been able to express feelings
of how many of us see our place in a world of need
when voices sometimes remain silent ..Lois (Muse of the Sea).

Kit one nearing completion

Now I just have to finish a few backgrounds on the 6 cards, put paper insert for letters into each card, buy some stamps for the envelopes and the first kit is off. I picked up my grandchildren after school and Maelyn, 3rd grade, was so interested she went to the computer and began working on coloring cards for a kit. After an hour she said, "My teacher says that when you do something good for someone else it not only makes them feel good it also makes you feel good too and you know what? It DOES. (From the mouths of babes, pearls of wisdom)

Inside of Kit one. I put the scraps and stickers in a baggy that would be used on these six cards. Luckily I have a machine to transfer paper to stickers.  Posted by Picasa

Paper folder for first six cards. I decided to use some of the trim on a folder rather than an example card. If USArtQuest is going to package 800 cards this may help.  Posted by Picasa

Friday, September 09, 2005

Sorting Scraps Posted by Picasa


My cozy quarters in Lemuria is great for small projects but my cell is clear of distractions so it is here I shall work on my small contribution to the survivers of Katrina. The pledge on joining this order was: " to those votaries who have committed themselves to Making Art A Daily Practice", and for as long as it is a help I am going to try to complete projects of art for the children. Creativity has gotten me through so many troublesome times , and, THOUGH WATER, FOOD, AND SHELTER MAY BE THE NUMBER ONE PRIORITY AT THIS TIME THE MIND OF THE CHILDREN MUST BE HEALED. I believe art is a powerful help to healing. At least, for a short period of time, it diverts the mind from their pain. So, for now I shall concentrate on the children.

I believe that a way will cross your path, to help, so as USArtQuest is the first group I have heard of that can distribute I shall start there. As I get further on this journey I am sure I will hear of other projects but for now I have left over materials scattered all over the floor of my cell and I am in the process of cutting trims, stamping, adding miscelaeous embellishments, and bagging groups of 6 with stamped envelopes , and perhaps, one example card. I sure hope USArtQuest also includes glue sticks.

Thursday, September 08, 2005

For my sisters

I couldn't sleep much, so ...

Tremble Lemuria

I do not tremble before a tsunami dragon,
Despite awesome breath and rearing head and chaotic rage.
Nay, for Mother Earth did but shrug her weary shoulders,
And quite predictably flicked off a noisome gnat or two –
As is her right, and call perhaps to a song unheard.

I choose not to tremble before a swirling wind,
Though I may weep for those unprepared for what they know.
It may well be that the Tengri is called to be herald
To the dynamics of lost faith and humanity,
Made apparent in man's incompetence and greed.

Yet, I tremble before the simplest acts of kindness,
Stroked again by intuitive trust in basic love --
The oh so ready hand that can reach out and open,
Were they not constrained in stuffed shirts and silk purses,
And fear that charity will be punished or rebuked.

Why does it take a disaster, even one self imposed,
For many to grasp that all are one in finality,
And that the simple sharing of bread and water and salt
Has nothing to do with religion or practiced rite,
But a suppressed hunger for kindness to ourselves.

Tremble not my children as sisters proclaim open hearts
And ancient mem’ries tickle your soul’s yearning balance.
Never, for they are the conduits of Currents and Wings
That weave man’s intent into a tapestry of creation
That surely answers, “Yes!” to a trumpeting of stardust.

Yet tremble! -- tremble, weep and scatter beyond reasoned fear
In the path of whispered simple words of offered kindness,
For truth knows only sunshine and compassion asks no fee.
No one can accept the invite that living offers thee,
But hand in hand we can dance and be what we might be.

Every fiber of my being trembles in sympathy,
Responding to a plucked string and ever present song,
Called 'even as you do to the least of me' or other --
And in the sunlight following the sinking of Lemuria
I know that I too 'am the least' and in need of love.

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

Golden spider weaving words

Golden spider weaving words
Originally uploaded by FranSb.
An image for Gail whose wonderful spinning brought my spider.

Speaking Out

Travelers, adventurers, new friends
will be arriving soon to rest and prepare.
I may not be here to greet them,
though the lantern will be lit --
as I am called to spend time
with those found homeless by chance,
but now abused by perfidy
and incompetence.

How then do I encourage your own
quest and journey -- engender joy
and confidence. I draw upon ancient words
written centuries ago -- and poorly translated by me --

a knight after the Crusades --
laying down his arms and becoming a monk

and I nail them here beside the door.




A very ancient soul did speak,
"The truth requires but few words."
And even less if writ say I;
For by actions should you be known,
And by bold laughing children,
And tomorrow's heart inspired.

Yet I question that such mark
Be made by sword slash on the field;
Or size of some palace grand,
Or spread of land worked by others,
Who by simple touch of earth
May cast shadow on man's vain claims.

I do fear to ask aloud
By what act should I be measured.
So I speak these words at length
In hope that some will serve a cause
Blessed by humanity's draw
On life's claim on passion and love.

Not for me a spear or bow,
Or needed plow or woodsman axe.
I need to sing haunting song
That stirs soul and quickens loins.
For each smile is a child born
To now gift away the world's pain.

In such truth as ye may find
There will blend of spirits begin.
For while my eyes may grow dim
Yours will shine in visions profound
Not limited by my simple song,
But embraced by Spirit of All.

The Donkeys leave the Hermitage

The Donkeys leave the Hermitage
Originally uploaded by FranSb.
The donkeys and secretary have said farewell. The Donkeys'Union wish to inform you that anyone needing an experienced donkey with wings is available at the usual price for service. Contact the Secretary.

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

A spiritual boost

How lucky I am! Our little mountain community is culturally void of influences from the outside world but Sunday an Internationally renown Tibetan Nun stayed at our new Ashley Inn for the night on her way to Sun Valley to be with The Dalli Lama. (Sorry about spelling) . 15 people sat and listened as she held us spellbound for 2 hours. I too sat in a lotus position, on the floor, and completely forgot the slow numbing in my legs. As soon as I got home I could not face verbally or physically my visible world and went to my art table, which sits both in my dining room window and the Abbey by the way, and placed my inner impressions on silk. I shall title this piece "Tibetan Impressions". Now what will I do with it? I guess that will have to come from my right brain later.

Impressions from Lecture by Ven. Robina Courtin a Tibetan Nun Posted by Picasa

Monday, September 05, 2005

For Jane


Were I to sit here long enough, positioned so unnatural
that I am pulled more by muscle ache than any prayerful thought -

If I am distracted by itch and glasses falling in my eyes
that I do not need because my eyes are closed in contemplation -

If the outside, obtrusive noise rings louder than this inner voice
that drew me here to gong and book and spilling vibrant water -

Were I to calm the churning thoughts of yesterday's give and take
in which I only sought laughter in response to brotherhood -

What if I could dispel the questions and the doubts and simple fears
that resonate like a pong-game in the flower courtyard of my mind -

Could All of You then wait awhile longer here with me?



I tried. I wanted to go with the adventurers but my energy fails mel Now I stand and look over the valley towards the Hermatage from the hill just outside the Abbey. Desire looses overfacing realities. I accept my personal limitations. I still have to get my red head onto a boat and away from Iona. Sigh......But now I need my cell, some serious meditation on what is my priority in the "NOW" and a return to creativity that I pledged when I first entered the Abbey. I have too many unfinished endeavors.

LOST MY WAY Posted by Picasa