Two wonderful folks from Houston, Texas came into the gallery last night with wine in paper cups. They told me they wanted to spend Christmas alone and so came to the village of Mendocino to get away. I saluted their choice. I wished them a Happy Solstice and they asked, What is that? We don't have Solstice in Houston. I laughed and they said that everyone in town and on the radio was talking Solstice and they have never heard of it. I said that Northern Californians think everyone does what we do, he said, I am sure we have that in Texas too...she wanted a print of my painting, between the worlds, and so he joyfully purchased it for her and both commented several times, we have never seen anything like this before (the gallery that is).
My days at the gallery are filled with the interesting "stuff of life" conversations all day long. The sacred space makes people cry, laugh and share their stories as if we are life long friends. With the cheer of the people in my town, welled up in my heart - in walks Sue (Bayou Starbutch) with a Christmas tree she has cut fresh of the family land, Terra Sophia. The tree, whom I have named Sadie, is gorgeous and ready for her jewels. We give thanks for her life, AND because the forest needs to be thinned, we feel grateful for her life, and sad too.
So we brought her home, and after a big bowl of homemade spaghetti, we put her up into a stump Sue has carved as the base. Sue and I stayed up late into the night putting on her earrings, necklace and glowing little lite shines. I decided I don't want a color coordinated tree - I want every color. I put Indian bells from the gallery and a pink angel nestled in the branches. The ritual of the tree has it's roots in many traditions, and for me, it is a part of honoring the Tree of Life that
sustains all of us. I love to sit by the fire on my red velvet couches with my cat, drink tea, bask in the red and green twinkles of Sadie and write or read. Like right now that is what I am doing!
I read this morning from a book called Women's Ventures by Shosanna Alexander, about the woman who started the Pendleton Cowgirl Company, Polly Helm. Her story about how she got started is so inspiring that I cried as I read it to Sue. Continually, affirmations about why we do the Cosmic Cowgirls, and why that name, becomes clearer and clearer. She says: "These pioneer cowgirls must have been among the earliest female athletes in this country." Try to link below if you want to read the section, it is on page 61 - otherwise search the book title and you can find it that way. I am new to this kind of media so I don't know how to connect all the dots. And you can see a picture of Kitty Canut, otherwise known as Katy Wilkes, who inspired Polly to get started. And it just so happens...that my mom has had this same image of Kitty framed and mixed in with family photos of my and my sisters and brothers as if she was one of the family. And in some magical way, she was.
http://books.google.com/books?id=DE0eqbN3A0gC&pg=PA67&lpg=PA67&dq=katy+wilkes&source=web&ots=ib4dsCsNPA&sig=QidCwRnQog-0RXhXqcNia_f2-R8#PPP1,M1
Each of IS the hero of our own story. There is no other way to look at it - there is no getting out of it. We are the star of our own show - so the only thing is, will we choose to shine - or will we dim our light? Will we show up, or will we show down and let our fears keep us from acting powerfully on our own behalf? Fear has been getting a bad rap - for one thing - there are many things we are right to be afraid of - there are lotsa scary things out there. Fear alerts us. And the other kind of fear that has been on the spiritually unpopular list is also useful. When I feel afriad of something, it alerts me to the power and possibility of that 'whatever it is'. Fear then guides me to the heart of the matter to take a look around. With my little pink flashlight, I search out my fear - and learn and choose. Act or not? It is a power tool. Mostly, I choose to walk towars my fear, or side by side when it comes to my own legend. I know those cowgirls who rode broncos were afraid too - but they saddled up and got on, let their rhinestone cowgirl outfits shimmer and light up the dust of the rodeo with feminine charm. Today, I salute them - and thank my ancestors who were not afraid to ride in a male dominated arena.
Publishing independently feels to me, like how those cowgirls must of felt. Exciting. Scared. Willing. Brave. Defiant. Beautiful. You just know sometimes, that you gotta make it happen. And keep on riding in that rodeo of the soul. We fall off, we break down, we break hearts, but we keep on loving and riding into the sunset over and over. What else is there to do? Today I ask that question of you, and of myself - what is there to do, this day, that further and fortifies and magnifies, the legend of who we are?
And all the women said:
YAHOO!
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