* The Roof is Finito!

The terrace roof outside the studio was finished in one day.  The materials arrived yesterday and were stacked neatly in the driveway.

My dream has always been a hand made tile roof.  I wanted one before I knew what they were.  When I first saw one, my heart skipped a beat.  Then I began to travel.  I ooooooed and aaawwed all over the Mediterranean.  When we built our home in Canada, I priced tile roofs .... out of the question there.  Well guess what ..... I HAVE A HAND MADE TILE ROOF.  I'm in love.

My contractor cut the ends of the beams in the old Spanish style.  I adore it.

By noon it was half finished.

Chayo is proud of his work and his workers.

And I have a lovely new terrace roof which shall be enjoyed very much.  I truly feel blessed that I am able to create this house for myself.  

Let the beauty we love be what we do.

Patty!  It's all your fault.  When I read your post called "rewind", I could not resist going back to December 15th of last year and seeing what I had written.  It was a surprise.  If you are interested, take a peek HERE.

* Bought a new house!

I did go house hunting today.  And I did find exactly what I was looking for, so I bought it.  Yes .. .just like that!  So .... now the Moon Babies have a home.  It's going to take some work.  I will probably wait until the studio is finito to attempt to make them comfortable.  It will be a fun project.  Have no idea what I'm going to do to remodel.  It will take a little thinking.

Think I might have found something I like in the house already.  We will see.

Are you able to see it's the face of La Luna made out of glass.  I bought it to put in a bowl of glass balls, but I think it has found a new home.  Funny how that works isn't it.

"There is a magic in that little world, home; it is a mystic circle that surrounds comforts and virtues never known beyond it's hallowed limits."  ~  Robert Southey

* The Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe

At 5:30 am this morning, the fireworks began all over San Miguel.  It's a big day here.  One of the most important celebrations on the Mexican calendar.  Some of the fireworks are coming from the other side of my courtyard walls, and Habibi is not amused.  He is sitting on my lap shaking.  It is the last important festival before Christmas fiestas begin officially on December 16th.

I have witnessed pilgrimages.  The heart felt devotion and willingness to suffer never ceases to amaze me.  At the Basilica in Mexico City I have witnessed pilgrims 'walk' on their knees with hands clasped to pray in front of Our Lady's Shroud.  I cannot imagine the pain which is no doubt involved.

I wanted to share a little of the history with you.

Our Lady of Guadalupe

December 12^th is the celebration of Our Lady of Guadalupe, Nuestra Senora de Guadalupe. It is a religious festival and It is National Holy Holiday, held every year to honor The Virgin of Guadalupe, patron saint of Mexico. She is also identified with the Aztec earth goddess and mother of human kind, Tonantzin. The feast, in honor of Our Lady of Guadalupe, goes back 500 years to the sixteenth century.

Legend states that Juan Diego, a native Nahuatl, saw a beautiful, brown-skinned woman with a shining halo of rays. She was dressed in shades of rose, gold and blue.

She spoke to Juan Diego as the Virgin Mary. She told him to go the city and visit the Bishop and request a shrine be built in her honor. The shrine was to be built on the sacred temple site of Tonantzin (a pre-hispanic goddess) on Tepeyac Hill.

Our Lady of Guadalupe and Juan Diego

Guadalupe appeared three times to Juan Diego and asked for her temple. Juan Diego was turned down three times by the Bishop. He wanted proof that the beautiful lady was truly the Mother of God. Guadalupe told Juan Diego to climb the Tepeyac hill and gather roses, which did not grow in the winter. He gathered the flowers and brought them to her. She placed them in his apron and told him to deliver them to the Bishop. As he dropped to his knees in front of the bishop and opened his apron, imprinted on it was the image of the Virgin of Guadalupe, exactly as Juan Diego had described her. In 13 days, a chapel was built for Our Lady of Guadalupe.

Mary's (Guadalupe) appearance to Juan Diego was a powerful reminder that Mary and the God who sent her accept all peoples. Given the history of the cruel treatment of the Indians by the Spaniards, the vision was a admonishment to the Spaniards. It was an occasion of great importance to the indigenous people of Mexico. Today millions show their respect to her by making pilgrimages, on December 12^th to the Basilica of Guadalupe, in La Villa de Guadalupe, in Northern Mexico City. The old Cathedral is built next to the new one.

The Old Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe, Mexico City

There are smaller celebrations in churches throughout Mexico. In the City of Mexico, La Villa de Guadalupe is a festival that draws enormous crowds. Dances from a wide variety of indigenous cultures are performed. Ephemera and religious art are plentiful.

An interesting aside:

Why is she standing on what looks like a crescent moon?

There are actually several objects in the picture related to the crescent moon. You will notice that Mary is seen as an Aztec princess, and that she is with child (the vestments indicate her rank; the tassels on her wrists are the traditional Aztec indicator of her pregnancy). The casual modern observer would think that the bright golden rays that surround her are a kind of halo, indicating her holiness. In this case, they have an entirely different significance. They are actually the glow of the sun-god behind her (like the real sun’s corona in a full eclipse). Mary is eclipsing this Aztec deity; its day is over. The burnt-out moon-god is beneath her feet, showing that Mary has vanquished it, too. At the bottom is what seems to be an angel — but it is not. The wings belong to another Aztec god, Quetzelcoatl (ket-zel-KO-at-l), the winged serpent from whose plumage the colors of the modern Mexican flag are taken. Eclipsing it is a Spaniard in European clothes, who is supporting Mary. It was through a prophecy involving the Quetzelcoatl that Moctezuma, the emperor of the Aztecs, came to believe that his empire would be overthrown by another God coming from across the sea.

There are dozens of other details in the picture, each with its significance for the Indians of the time. The collar, the stars on her turquoise-colored cloak (which are astronomically correct and indicate a critical moment in time), the flowers on her profusely embroidered golden dress (including an especially ornate one directly over her womb) all carry a deep meaning. And in the 1950s it was discovered through scientific study that there are actually reflections in her eyes (optically correct), apparently showing the scene in the bishop’s mansion at the moment when St. Juan Diego Cuauhtlatoatzin (kwow-tla-TOE-at-zin, “Speaking Eagle”) opened his tilma (cloak) to reveal the roses he had brought from the hill of Tepeyac. These are tentatively identified as a number of known personages, plus several who are unknown.

Finally, there is the inescapable resemblance of this picture to the description of the Woman clothed with the sun in Revelation 12. Something to ponder.

* Babies Homeless

I found these two babies on e-bay.  They called to me, even though they were tattered and torn.  What could I do ... I brought them to Mexico.  I have no idea of the history of this kind of doll.  I have never seen one before.  They were in rough shape, emotionally neglected and in need of tending.  Here's the 'before' photograph.  Unfortunately, I didn't take a photo of both in their original condition ... before my imagination got carried away.  If anyone has seen these kinds of dolls before, I'd be very interested in hearing about them.

For whatever reason, they sort of reminded me of moon beams ... perhaps their shape.  They began calling for 'this and that'.  We want gold faces.  I want a crown!  We both want roses.  On and On ... what could I do.  This was the result.

They refuse to be separated.  What's more, they are demanding their own housing.  "We don't want to hang around on some wall getting dusty.  We have a right to decent shelter!"  Cheeky are they not.  So now I'm out looking to buy a house!  I think a very large Nicho would be perfect.  Don't know if they make them that large.  I'll keep you posted.  For now, I'm house hunting for the Moonbeam Babies.

"The creation of something new is not accomplished by the intellect but by the play instinct acting from inner necessity. The creative mind plays with the objects it loves."
Carl Jung

* Posts and Fireplace

The fireplace in the Studio was going to remain plain.  Change of heart set in.  I had them tile it.  I had the tiles, so it was no big deal for them to pop them on the wall.  Happy I did it.  I do love it and think it will look great when the mantle is installed.

The trim will be painted cobalt.

On another note, when the Studio is complete, I will be putting a half roof on the terrace so there will be shade.  It faces West, so shelter is needed from the hot afternoon sun in the summer.  Months ago I found some hand carved posts which I fell in love with, however had no use for.  Now I do .... so I scurried back to see if they were still there.  YEAH!  There they sat, just waiting for me.  I only need two, however got such I good price I took all four.  The two I don't use, I will stash until I can afford to put a roof on the back terrace.

 

I realize you in Canada and some parts of the States will laugh uproariously at this statement.  I am cold!  At the moment (7:45 AM) it is 41 degrees F.  My fireplace isn't working properly and I'm heating the house with my oven door open.  (Yes, I know, that's funny too.)  The high today will be 73 degrees.  A nice temperature, however, it won't begin to warm up until late morning.  When the sun sets about 6:00 pm, it instantly cools off.  High desert stuff.  It gets dark very early now.  I'm looking forward to solstice and the coming again of the light.  I love the longer evenings.  So there you have it ... my take on December weather in San Miguel.  My Canadian blood must be getting thin.

"There is no use trying,” said Alice. “One can’t believe impossible things.” “I daresay you haven’t had much practice,” said the Queen. “When I was your age, I always did it for half an hour a day. Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.” — Lewis Carroll

* Street Photos

Rummaging through my 'stuff' today to find objects de arte, I came across a small envelope of photographs.  Honestly, I don't know what I was thinking when I packed to move.  I find the strangest things.  The particular photos here today are all Street Photos, mostly from Edmonton, Alberta, Canada.  One of them is from Spokane, Washington during our summer pilgrimage to the US to visit relatives an shop.  I find them all interesting.  Street Photos always catch you off guard.

Papa walking with purpose.

Summer day.

Spring or Fall day?  Mama is wearing a heavier coat.

Blood freezing winter day.  Snow flying.  Mama would have knit her hat and scarf.

Mama and a dear friend Emmy Dean.  Summer again.

I distinctly remember this photograph.  We were on holiday in the states.  I  was ten years old.  That means it was 1956.  I was complaining to Mama.  "Mama, I really dislike these shoes.  Is there something we could do about that?"  Mama, of course saw the street camera and is trying to tell me to smile.  I love this photo of Papa.  He looks so relaxed.

 Mama and Me.  I was in college then.  Still can't figure out why I would have been hauling all those books down the street in the middle of Edmonton!  Who knows.  I had sewn the outfit I was wearing.  Reversible cape.  Turquoise wool on one side, black and white tweed on the other. 

"We all have our time machines. Some take us back, they're called memories. Some take us forward, they're called dreams."  ~Jeremy Irons

* You Are a Prophet

excerpted from PRONOIA Is the Antidote for Paranoia Your imagination is the single most important asset you possess. Your imagination is your power to create mental pictures of things that don't exist yet and that you want to bring into being. Your imagination is what you use to shape your future. And so in your own way, you are a prophet. You generate countless predictions every day. Your imagination is the source, tirelessly churning out mental pictures of what you'll be doing in the future. The featured prophecy of the moment may be as simple as a psychic impression of yourself devouring a fudge brownie at lunch or as monumental as a daydream of some year building your dream home on a mountainside in Hawaii. Your imagination is a treasure when it spins out scenarios that are aligned with your deepest desires. Indeed, it is an indispensable tool in creating the life you want; it's what you use to form images of the conditions you'd like to inhabit and the objects you hope to wield. Nothing manifests on the material plane unless it first exists as a mental picture. But for most of us, the imagination is as much a curse as a blessing. We're often just as likely to use it to conjure up premonitions that are at odds with our conscious values -- that's the result of having absorbed toxic programming from the media and from our parents at an early age and from other influential people in our past. Fearful fantasies regularly pop up into our awareness, many disguising themselves as rational thoughts and genuine intuitions. Thos fearful fantasies may hijack our psychic energy, directing it to exhaust itself in dead-end meditations. Every time we entertain a vision of being rejected or hurt or frustrated, every time we rouse and dwell on a memory of a painful experience, we're basically blasting ourselves with a hex. Meanwhile, ill-suited longings are also lurking in our unconscious mind, impelling us to want things that aren't good for us and that we don't really need. Anytime we surrender to the allure of these false and trivial and counterproductive desires, our imagination is practicing a form of black magic. This is the unsavory aspect of the imagination that the Zen Buddhists deride as the "monkey mind." The monkey mind is the part of our mental apparatus that's filled with pictures that endlessly zip around with the energy of an agitated monkey. If we can stop locating our sense of self in the endless surge of the monkey mind's slapdash fantasies, only then might we be able to be here now and want what we actually have. But whether our imagination is in service to our noble desires or in the thrall of compulsive fears and inappropriate yearnings, there is one constant: The prophecies of our imagination can be pretty accurate. Many of our visions of the future do come to pass. The situations we expect to occur and the experiences we rehearse and dwell on are at least sometimes reflected back to us as events that confirm our expectations. Does that mean that our mental projections create the future? Let's consider that possibility. What if it's at least partially true that what we expect will happen does tend to materialize? Well, here's the logical conclusion: It's downright stupid and self-destructive to keep infecting our imaginations with pictures of loss and failure, doom and gloom, fear and loathing. The far more sensible approach is to expect blessings and joy and peace and fulfillment and understanding and meaningfulness. And that's the reason why I'm so reverent in composing my messages for you. If I'm to be one of the influences you invite into the intimate sanctuary where you nurse your self-fulfilling prophecies, I really want to be gentle with you. It's why I avoid invoking worry and doubt, and instead nudge you in the direction of passion, integrity, happiness, and generosity. And that's exactly the approach I'd like you to take. I want you to pay ultimate respect to yourself. Understand your power as a potent prophet of your own life. Flush away the images running around your imagination that are not in harmony with your life goals. Create images that encourage you to be your best. Cultivate feelings and ideas and imaginations that are in alignment with your highest ideals and deepest desires. + To buy PRONOIA Is the Antidote for Paranoia, the book from which the above piece is excerpted, go to Amazon or Barnes & Noble.

* Christmas is coming ...

Christmas at the market.  Need I say more?

"Until one feels the spirit of Christmas, there is no Christmas.  All else is outward display - so much tinsel and decorations.  For it isn't the holly, it isn't the snow.  It isn't the tree not the firelight's glow.  It's the warmth that comes to the heart."

* Marquita and Luminitsa

Strolling down the ancha a couple of days ago, a chill ran up my spine.  You know, the kind.  You don't really know what's going on - but get ready - something is!  I kept walking.  Fully aware of my surroundings, present in the moment.  I was hearing voices.   At first I tried to ignore it.  Obviously, I was hearing things.  But no ... there it was again ... my name.  Ever so softly, but totally audible.  "Donnita."  I slowed to a crawl.  My hearing became acute as I did nothing but listen. "Don n i t a ..."

Now, no one has called me Donnita since the days when we traveled to Mexico city on a regular basis.  We had a driver named Antonio whom I shall never forget. To him, I was always Donnita.  He took such good care of us.  We were invited to his daughter's wedding one year, and felt totally part of the family.  Hearing my 'Mexican name' brought back such lovely memories.

I stopped.  I 'tuned in'.  The voices ... yes, two different voices, were coming from the direction of the shop I was standing directly in front of.  I ventured in.  My eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim light from the bright sun of the street.  It was a nice shop.  My first glance around indicated there was everything Mexico had to offer.  I was amazed as I began to travel toward the sound of the voices.  This building had obviously been an old colonial home.  I passed through room after room, deeper and deeper away from the street, through the courtyard and into yet another part of the building.  The voices became louder and clearer.  They were gentle but firm voices.  Determination was imprinted in the sound waves.  I followed.  Past the pottery, ceramics, hand painted folk art, hand punched tin mirrors, cantera carvings, a room full of lanterns and chandeliers until I was finally 'there'.  There in front of a hand woven basket.  The sound of my name was definitely drifting gently out of the depths of the basket.

I peered in.  Simple rag dolls of all shapes and sizes tumbled over the sides.  What on earth .... I was intrigued and mystified.  I didn't question the magic.  Things like this seem to happen to me on a regular basis.  I moved a few dolls.  Primitively crafted with a tremendous amount of character.  Then I came to the voices.  There they were!  I picked them both up, looking them square in the eyes.

"Well, Senora Donnita, it's about time.  We've been waiting!", one of them piped up.

"Yesterday, we were nearly taken.", the other cried.  "Where have you been?  "Do you realize we would have been separated, and gone to the entirely wrong person?"

"I'm here now, you are safe."  I turned, walking back toward the dim light at the front of the building.  "You can explain when we get home."

"My name is Marquita.  It's a very Mexican name you know.  It means pearl.  Are you listening to me, Donnita?"

"Yes, of course I am.  Perhaps you two should button your lips until I get your paperwork in order to get you out of here."

"But, you should know my name too!  They just would not be quiet.  I was getting nervous.  "It's Luminitsa.   I'm pure gypsy."

"OK, OK, that's enough for now you two.  Settle down."

I set them on the counter and dug my purse out of my Lady of Guadalupe shopping bag.  Senor at the counter was looking at me oddly.   Like he had perhaps overheard, but didn't want to admit it.  I smiled.  He wrapped each one in brightly coloured tissue paper.  I placed them gently in my bolsa and walked into the bright Mexican sun.  I'm sure their story will unfold. 

Marquita and Luminitsa

"Friends are angels sent down to earth to make good days and help us find our way."
 

* Happiness is ... RYAN PARKER

At some deep level, when I witnessed these photographs, I simply had to blog about Ryan.  His essence spoke loud and clear, straight from the page.  It hit me in the heart.  It's a shining example of following your bliss, because as you can see, that's exactly what he's doing.  It's emanating from every pore.  His exuberance and sheer love for what he's doing drips down onto the stage and pools and puddles in the audience.  People walk in it, it 'get's on them' ... he shares part of his soul.  As a result the happiness is passed on.  Such a gift.

Ryan is my great nephew.  I witness his journey with much love from afar, as I do with many members of my family.  When he was a teenager, he came for a weekend visit with his Mom, and sister.  It was a memorable weekend, one I shall always carry with me.  Special.  We had our tea leaves read.  Ryan's forecast included the statement "And your name shall be written."  It has proven to be very true.

Making his home base in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, Ryan is able to express his talent in many ways.  He's an actor, a musician, a photographer, a producer and a writer.  He has just returned from the West End in London, and Broadway, traveling with "Nevermore", the musical about Edgar Allan Poe.  He's one of the founders, writers and principle actors in the comedy sketch TV series, "Caution:  May Contain Nuts", a couple of musical groups, one of which, The Be Arthurs,  is a threesome with ukulele's (very popular by the way).  He's young, he's full of life, he's making his living at a very early age doing what he loves.  These life choices come with risks.  There are no guarantees when you choose your bliss, in this case the entertainment business, things are going to work out.  Ryan took those risks.  At some level he knew it would work.  I admire him greatly.  Taking that giant leap into the unknown without any kind of safety net has yielded Ryan a great gift in life ... Happiness.  He's sharing it with the world.  How great is that!  Be friends with Ryan on FACEBOOK.  I adore his web site HERE.

Ryan Parker - Happiness IS.

Can't you just feel it?  I can.

“When you follow your bliss... doors will open where you would not have thought there would be doors; and where there wouldn't be a door for anyone else.”  ~ Joseph Campbell