* Sisters of Spirit

Diane and I are friends.  We are Sisters of Spirit.  Twelve years ago we met in a therapy group for depression.  Diane was suffering burn out and loosing her job.  I was suffering burn out and loosing my husband.  We bonded on what I refer to as a Spirit level.  There is a part in each of us that is there to assist in spiritual growth when the other is too exhausted to move forward.  We help each other on the path, the journey, the awakening of our souls.  It's a good thing to have a Sister of Spirit.  I believe it to be a rare gift.

Diane likes to paint.  She loves flowers.  Her style is so free, so playful and so unintended, I wanted to share some of her work with you.  It always make me smile.  Acrylics are her medium of choice.  Her flowers hang in a pleasing cluster in her very French bedroom.  The flower paintings, her collection of beautiful perfume bottles, together with the old world yellow of the walls, call forth images of far away places in the countryside, just outside of Paris. 









The flowers to the right are my favorite.  They always seem so fresh, so innocent, so surprised and happy to be here.

Ah, the pink cottage.  Inside it has a wonderful deep hearth with seats along the each side, the walls are two feet thick, with windowsills so deep you can fill them with huge bouquets of flowers.  The planks on the floor are original, wide and crudely set.  Absolutely spectacular.  In the heat of summer, it is a cool refuge.  In winter, the warmth of the hearth invites you to linger with friends over a second glass of wine.

The garden is old, wild and free.  The steps of the path are English oak, hand carved and crooked.  Watch your step please.  In the spring the climbing roses around the door bloom early.  At Christmas there are still one or two blossoms.  I know all this, of course, because I have been inside the pink cottage .... in my dreams!
                                                                                                                                                              
                                                      




Recently, Diane has been experimenting with multi media collage projects. Her love of books, reading and writing are predominate in the first of three pieces.

The triptych contains many special pieces of her life.  An exquisite almost miniature fountain pen which belonged to her mother. .  Maps and stamps from places she has lived.  Parts of an old love letter from  John, her husband who was tragically killed in a helicopter crash in Singapore.  Her old drivers license from Norway.  A time piece she once wore every day and a vintage broach.
                                                    

The symbology of these three pieces is moving.  Together they tell a story of many parts of her life.

My little birds.  Another favorite of mine.  These two have been together for a many years, perhaps many life times.  They sit on the same branch, close together, knowing what the other is thinking.  They are soul mates.  They love each other.  They are committed to be on the wing, and sing songs together for as long as they are on this incredible earth.  Their names are Elsie and James.

Dianes true passion is writing.  Currently she is writing a biography of her Mothers' life ... part fictional .. part honest to God truth.  Who knows where the line is - that's what makes it so exciting.  Poetry is another love.  Sometimes I suffer creative blocks, sometimes I fall into creative 'states' and have creative 'tantrums'.  Sometimes I can fall under the 'artists temperment' category to people who are not artists and who do not have a clue what it's like to be frozen and want to explode.  Sometimes I am frustrated, stuck and can't get through the eighteen foot thick wall to my own creative core.  During my last 'attack', Diane wrote a very beautiful poem for me which I would like to share with you.

Where do you go?

by:  Diane H

June 16, 2009

Where do you go

when this pent up restlessness folds over your skin and

you yelp and howl and you bitch and you groan.

Fidgeting motions crawl over you like seaweed

Your brows grow lines of discontent.

Where do you go?

When your words snap in sharpness not intending to hurt

flashing out in thunder with residues of electric shock

Where do you go?

When you are so overwhelmed and your head is full of cotton.  Where do you go?

Could it be ...?

The creative insect inside you is screaming to crawl out through the rocks of ordinariness.

Look Donna,

The caterpillar is bursting its seams

Slowly finding its way out of the chrysalis

Rejoice

It is the birth of a butterfly.

To share our journey with others is what life is really all about--that's why there is more than one of us on the planet. I have long defined "friend-ship" as a vessel in which two or more souls journey toward a common destination--the realization of our oneness in God, Goddess, All That Is. ~ Dr. Dennis Merritt Jones