It's really just a weekend
One of fifty two
In any given year
Where women come together
On the banks of a river
In a place so rural
It truly really is
In the middle of nowhere.
It's really just an hour
When the bonfire burns bright
Drawing us in
Greetings exchanged
News shared
Conversation flows
Voices raised in rhythmic sound
Drums beat
Hearts lifted.
It's really just a moment
When you're handed o'er the drum
Your fear wants to say no
But you don't let it win.
You feel the power
That was always there inside you.
They saw, they felt, they knew
They drew it out of you
Into the air, into the night
Into your consciousness
Where it will sustain you the whole year,
That instant when
You
Made them dance!
Showing posts with label womansong. Show all posts
Showing posts with label womansong. Show all posts
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Journals - I
I am certain that some people keep journals the 'right' way with precisely dated entries and logs of their activities and descriptive whole proper sentences in flowing beautiful cursive or precise hand lettering, such that they are a chronological window to their activities and thoughts over time. I have journals, yes. Many of them. All over the place. Rare is the sentence in them, however. They are lists of priorities, lists of impressions, questions, ideas, half-baked thoughts in no particular order, rarely dated with so much as the year, in sloppy barely legible mostly lower case printing that rambles across the page and even onto the next one. Often the entries are sideways or at some jaunty angle if jotted in the car or in a tent or on a hike. Tiny messy sketches of art and design ideas are interspersed with to do lists and chore lists and shopping lists and phone numbers with no owner specified and addresses with no city or zip.
But half the fun in coming across of of these oddities in a pile of magazines or maps or books or knitting or at the bottom of a suitcase or the pocket of a messenger bag is interpreting the words and then trying to place them at a time, a place, an event.
This is an entry from camping in the park at the first WomanSong I attended in Grand Rapids, North Dakota in 2007:
"Coyotes
Cottonwood leaves
Sunsets
Shadows of branches
Star-filled skies
Mist
Rain
Cold - So?"
But half the fun in coming across of of these oddities in a pile of magazines or maps or books or knitting or at the bottom of a suitcase or the pocket of a messenger bag is interpreting the words and then trying to place them at a time, a place, an event.
This is an entry from camping in the park at the first WomanSong I attended in Grand Rapids, North Dakota in 2007:
"Coyotes
Cottonwood leaves
Sunsets
Shadows of branches
Star-filled skies
Mist
Rain
Cold - So?"
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Monday, April 6, 2009
Eight Kinds of Friends
In a world where we are driven by conflicting needs and wants, and where simple things are complicated, no one friend can be everything to you.
We have many friends and each one helps us in a specific unique set of ways. Some people know this is true and cultivate different kinds of friendships. But people who are not aware of this concept can have difficulties because they expect one person to be everything to them or they compare friends to each other and make value judgements that are not necessary. Or they may be critical of a friend for lacking a characteristic, when that friend may serve some need that is completely unrelated, so that lack is irrelevant.
If you have a 'best friend' that you fight with, or are sometimes secretly annoyed with, it might be because you expect her to be the "perfect" friend and serve all of these needs for you. But how can she know if this time, when you talk about this cute but expensive red leather zippered notepad folio you saw at the luggage store at lunchtime, you want her to be the responsible friend and remind you that you are trying to pay off the mortgage early, or that you want her to be the fun friend and encourage you to go for it because you will never see another piece you like as much again.
When we ask for help, we usually kinda know what type of help we want. If we are in a bad mood, we might want to languish in that and savor the bitter bitchiness of it for a while while drinking cheap wine or silly colored iced drinks. Or we might want to be snapped out of it and told how amazing the world and everything in it is and made to remember that "ain't life grand".
If we know how our friends will react, we can call the right one to meet our needs. But if we rely on a single friend to somehow read our mind and know what to tell us this time, we are setting ourselves and the friendship up for failure.
Figure out what each friend is good at and what needs she serves, and don't ask her to go beyond that. And don't tell me your husband is your best friend in all of these areas because some or them are polar opposites and he can't possibly be all things to all situations. He is either going to make you stick to the budget or he is going to think the red folio is a wild fun thing that will make you happy, but not both, so be realistic. Figure out what 'friend' needs he meets and cultivate other friends for the rest of the areas.
And look at how your friends relate to you. To whom are you each of the kinds of friends? Are you always a certain way with everyone? Are you always the analytical one? Do you wish you could let your hair down more and have more fun? Maybe your fun friend is the one who can help you be more that way, at least with her. Use the types to look at yourself in your relationships.
Realizing there are many kinds of friends will help you be a better friend to your friends. Knowing there are many kinds of friends will help you get your needs met because you will ask from them what they are best at giving. And it may help keep you from fighting with your friends because you won't be expecting them to be what they aren't. No one is everything to anyone, but we are all important to each other in some important way.
Following are the eight types of friends that I have defined, and I will write a bit more about each type in coming days:
The Comfort Friend who will console you after a bad day, bring you healthy food when your are sick, and listen to you complain but for just so long before she cheers you up.
The Validating Friend who tells you that you are brilliant and fabulous looking and funny and talented, and that you are making all the right decisions and choices.
The Shared Hobby Friend who will shop for supplies, go antiquing, start an exercise program, make a craft mess in her dining room, or learn to cook with you.
The Get Off Your Ass Friend aka the Motivational Friend, who will pester you to go to the gym, nag you to make the dental appointment, sign up for the 5K run with you, and praise your successes.
The Intellectually Challenging Friend who asks your opinion on current events, works on causes with you, says yes you should take that class, and discusses the book with you.
The Mentor Friend who has been there before and knows the ins and outs and is not threatened by your success so is willing to share it all, and takes pride in your achievements.
The Creatively Inspiring Friend who helps you pick out paint colors, takes you to amazing places, does projects with you, and says no job is too big for the two of you.
The Party Friend who will go for a drink, got to a movie, got to the mall, take a last minute trip with you, or go with you to the company party to make it less boring.
I first learned this in some corporate workshop on some entirely different topic. This was presented as a 10 minute 'related topic', like a sidebar in a self-help book. And many people have written about this concept and there are probably books out there. This is my own list and why are there eight? Frankly, because I was looking for topics for the pages of my 'tiny books' that have eight pages.
We have many friends and each one helps us in a specific unique set of ways. Some people know this is true and cultivate different kinds of friendships. But people who are not aware of this concept can have difficulties because they expect one person to be everything to them or they compare friends to each other and make value judgements that are not necessary. Or they may be critical of a friend for lacking a characteristic, when that friend may serve some need that is completely unrelated, so that lack is irrelevant.
If you have a 'best friend' that you fight with, or are sometimes secretly annoyed with, it might be because you expect her to be the "perfect" friend and serve all of these needs for you. But how can she know if this time, when you talk about this cute but expensive red leather zippered notepad folio you saw at the luggage store at lunchtime, you want her to be the responsible friend and remind you that you are trying to pay off the mortgage early, or that you want her to be the fun friend and encourage you to go for it because you will never see another piece you like as much again.
When we ask for help, we usually kinda know what type of help we want. If we are in a bad mood, we might want to languish in that and savor the bitter bitchiness of it for a while while drinking cheap wine or silly colored iced drinks. Or we might want to be snapped out of it and told how amazing the world and everything in it is and made to remember that "ain't life grand".
If we know how our friends will react, we can call the right one to meet our needs. But if we rely on a single friend to somehow read our mind and know what to tell us this time, we are setting ourselves and the friendship up for failure.Figure out what each friend is good at and what needs she serves, and don't ask her to go beyond that. And don't tell me your husband is your best friend in all of these areas because some or them are polar opposites and he can't possibly be all things to all situations. He is either going to make you stick to the budget or he is going to think the red folio is a wild fun thing that will make you happy, but not both, so be realistic. Figure out what 'friend' needs he meets and cultivate other friends for the rest of the areas.
And look at how your friends relate to you. To whom are you each of the kinds of friends? Are you always a certain way with everyone? Are you always the analytical one? Do you wish you could let your hair down more and have more fun? Maybe your fun friend is the one who can help you be more that way, at least with her. Use the types to look at yourself in your relationships.
Realizing there are many kinds of friends will help you be a better friend to your friends. Knowing there are many kinds of friends will help you get your needs met because you will ask from them what they are best at giving. And it may help keep you from fighting with your friends because you won't be expecting them to be what they aren't. No one is everything to anyone, but we are all important to each other in some important way.
Following are the eight types of friends that I have defined, and I will write a bit more about each type in coming days:
The Comfort Friend who will console you after a bad day, bring you healthy food when your are sick, and listen to you complain but for just so long before she cheers you up.
The Validating Friend who tells you that you are brilliant and fabulous looking and funny and talented, and that you are making all the right decisions and choices.
The Shared Hobby Friend who will shop for supplies, go antiquing, start an exercise program, make a craft mess in her dining room, or learn to cook with you.
The Get Off Your Ass Friend aka the Motivational Friend, who will pester you to go to the gym, nag you to make the dental appointment, sign up for the 5K run with you, and praise your successes.
The Intellectually Challenging Friend who asks your opinion on current events, works on causes with you, says yes you should take that class, and discusses the book with you.
The Mentor Friend who has been there before and knows the ins and outs and is not threatened by your success so is willing to share it all, and takes pride in your achievements.
The Creatively Inspiring Friend who helps you pick out paint colors, takes you to amazing places, does projects with you, and says no job is too big for the two of you.
The Party Friend who will go for a drink, got to a movie, got to the mall, take a last minute trip with you, or go with you to the company party to make it less boring.
I first learned this in some corporate workshop on some entirely different topic. This was presented as a 10 minute 'related topic', like a sidebar in a self-help book. And many people have written about this concept and there are probably books out there. This is my own list and why are there eight? Frankly, because I was looking for topics for the pages of my 'tiny books' that have eight pages.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Self-Portrait in Van
It was September and I was in a park in the middle of somewhere camping out of my car. In a place that is really something special on that second weekend. LaMoure 
County Memorial Park, Grand Rapids, North Dakota.
This is the view of the side door of my 1996 Dodge Caravan. At time of driving, it had a transmission leak, a brake fluid leak, and didn't always start. It shimmied at certain speeds, but hey, I had to get to WomanSong, so I left a couple days early just in case. Didn't need it, the thing drove fine, so I had time to hang out, relax, chill, livin' the good life outta the side of my van!
I will decode for you some of the items in the photo:
The RV out the other side window: I found out my 'alarm clock' for the day I taught a workshop first session in the morning wasn't going to be in camp after all and had gone back to town, so I knocked on these peoples' window and asked, never having met them, "What time are you getting up in the morning?" After some explaining and some if-then-well-thening, we decided I would borrow their alarm clock, get up and shower, and that would be about the time they needed to get up, so I would return their alarm clock at that point, thereby being their 'alarm clock'. WomanSong is like that. We take care of each other!
Inside the van, there are damp beach towels across the seat from prior showers, and bags of clothing for various parts of this trip. Traveling clothes, cool funky special WomanSong clothes, extra stuff for if it gets cold, visiting my mom and sister later clothes. Yeah, it is full over there on that other side of the seat.
The back of the van is just as full, with all the stuff for the three classes I am teaching and stuff for if I visit my friend Ken and we need to make photo notecards for the gallery and other art supplies for if I get the hankering to do a sketch or make some earrings for someone.
This side here is the pantry, and you can see the cooler were the magical Mountain Dews keep cold and the brown paper bag of food I bought in town and a red box of crackers and a green reusable market bag of food I brought from home and that loaf of good crusty bread from Whole Foods.
The backpack basket is what goes with me down the road to the park where WomanSong is held. It carries the WomanSong schedule of events, a water bottle, my spare Dews, maybe a snack, my camera, my notebook for writing down ideas and phone numbers and email addresses of people I meet, and my wallet and oh, maybe some lip balm and bug spray and a handkerchief or two. It brings back the CDs I buy from the musicians and any art I buy from the artists.
The hat is part of my 'uniform'. It shades me from the sun and covers up my bad hair on the days I don't feel like fighting the shower line and well, you just gotta wear a hat to WomanSong!
Don't you think YOU should come to WomanSong in 2009?
County Memorial Park, Grand Rapids, North Dakota. This is the view of the side door of my 1996 Dodge Caravan. At time of driving, it had a transmission leak, a brake fluid leak, and didn't always start. It shimmied at certain speeds, but hey, I had to get to WomanSong, so I left a couple days early just in case. Didn't need it, the thing drove fine, so I had time to hang out, relax, chill, livin' the good life outta the side of my van!
I will decode for you some of the items in the photo:
The RV out the other side window: I found out my 'alarm clock' for the day I taught a workshop first session in the morning wasn't going to be in camp after all and had gone back to town, so I knocked on these peoples' window and asked, never having met them, "What time are you getting up in the morning?" After some explaining and some if-then-well-thening, we decided I would borrow their alarm clock, get up and shower, and that would be about the time they needed to get up, so I would return their alarm clock at that point, thereby being their 'alarm clock'. WomanSong is like that. We take care of each other!
Inside the van, there are damp beach towels across the seat from prior showers, and bags of clothing for various parts of this trip. Traveling clothes, cool funky special WomanSong clothes, extra stuff for if it gets cold, visiting my mom and sister later clothes. Yeah, it is full over there on that other side of the seat.
The back of the van is just as full, with all the stuff for the three classes I am teaching and stuff for if I visit my friend Ken and we need to make photo notecards for the gallery and other art supplies for if I get the hankering to do a sketch or make some earrings for someone.
This side here is the pantry, and you can see the cooler were the magical Mountain Dews keep cold and the brown paper bag of food I bought in town and a red box of crackers and a green reusable market bag of food I brought from home and that loaf of good crusty bread from Whole Foods.
The backpack basket is what goes with me down the road to the park where WomanSong is held. It carries the WomanSong schedule of events, a water bottle, my spare Dews, maybe a snack, my camera, my notebook for writing down ideas and phone numbers and email addresses of people I meet, and my wallet and oh, maybe some lip balm and bug spray and a handkerchief or two. It brings back the CDs I buy from the musicians and any art I buy from the artists.
The hat is part of my 'uniform'. It shades me from the sun and covers up my bad hair on the days I don't feel like fighting the shower line and well, you just gotta wear a hat to WomanSong!
Don't you think YOU should come to WomanSong in 2009?
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Living at WomanSong
I lived for several days here, again last September. At the camp ground at Park Rapids in LaMoure County. WomanSong is held in the adjacent park. At the campground, there are restrooms and showers. There is running water that has good flavor. There is an electrical outlet at some campsites.
This is my house. I love to sleep in it when it is raining, but I hate to get up and go out in the night to . . . well, you know . . . when it is raining.
This is my kitchen. I have a cooler of ice for Mountain Dews and another for things like fruit and cheese and opened jars of salsa. I can make coffee, hot chocolate, tea, oatmeal, heat up soup, and make any number of dehydrated camping meals. This morning, I had preserves on English muffins and coffee and fresh strawberries while I reviewed the event schedule.
This is the neighborhood. There is hardly anyone when I arrive a couple days before the event, and it is packed for the event, and hardly anyone at all the night after the event. Life is good!
This is my house. I love to sleep in it when it is raining, but I hate to get up and go out in the night to . . . well, you know . . . when it is raining.
This is my kitchen. I have a cooler of ice for Mountain Dews and another for things like fruit and cheese and opened jars of salsa. I can make coffee, hot chocolate, tea, oatmeal, heat up soup, and make any number of dehydrated camping meals. This morning, I had preserves on English muffins and coffee and fresh strawberries while I reviewed the event schedule.
This is the neighborhood. There is hardly anyone when I arrive a couple days before the event, and it is packed for the event, and hardly anyone at all the night after the event. Life is good! Sunday, February 22, 2009
My Scarf Painting Class
They all whine and say "I am not an artist" or "I am not very creative" or "I can't draw". I show them a few basic skills and teach them a few little tricks and each of them, every single one of them, makes something beautiful!
I teach a technique, show them how I do it, and yet, look at the variety and diversity of beautiful designs they made! Each was unique and uniquely beautiful! Everyone is an artist! Everyone can create! Each day of your life is a creation! Everyone can draw with a few tips and a little practice! You can do it too! 
You have beauty and art and music and joy in you! Let it out! Let it shine!
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Some of My Heroes
They take my class. They say nice things to me. They say nice things about me. But they knew about WomanSong before I did! They were there one maybe two years before I even heard of it! They are smart and funny and fun and kind. The one in the cool layers and amazing scarves performs on stage, playing guitar and singing! Wow! A real artist! And she takes my class! I am wearing lots of scarves this year in honor of her. It makes me feel more expressive, more womanly, more . . . like I am finding my song! Thank you, women of WomanSong and see you in September!Sunday, February 8, 2009
I Buy Art at WomanSong
WomanSong has music and drumming and talks and workshops and vendors who are musicians and artists.I try to buy a little something. I wish I could buy more. This past WomanSong, we were thick in the middle of building the house so all the money was going there. But I bought this piece from Suzie. Isn't is amazing? I was fresh into crows last year. So was Susie. Still am. Send me a crow story or a crow poem or some crow artwork, please! This one has a mama crow and many baby crows all out on a limb. In the nest, there is a beautiful egg, unhatched. I guess permanently that way. The name of the piece is "Mother Can't Fix Everything." There is joy in the world, and a little sadness too. Great things happen to us, but once in a while we lose something too.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Good Money After Rust
Oh, I am a little poorer tonight but ooooh, baby, does that old 1996 Dodge Grand Caravan drive nice now! Some of you might remember how I told you it shimmied and vibrated at 54 - 58 mph so I had to accelerate quickly past that and how it vibrated again around 80 so I had to stay under that or punch it up to 85? I don't think you were very amused at the last part of that. When was this that I mentioned that? The September trip to WomanSong or as far back as the January to visit my mother after her surgery? So it has gotten worse, vibrating around 30 and also, when going very very slowly, like at a crawl in traffic. It was more like a rocking from side to side at really slow speeds.
So since I got the brakes and calipers redone before I went to Wisconsin for the last extended stay there, I thought maybe this was the calipers out of adjustment - like before the repair, it was from the bad calipers and now it was that they were not adjusted right - I know, a long shot, but that woulda made the fix free.
Kinda like the guy who is looking for his keys in the front yard and a neighbor stops to help and another and another and pretty soon one of them asks when he lost them out there and he says actually he thinks he dropped them in the basement but he can't see down there cuz it's too dark so he thought he'd look out where it was light . . .
So I took it in and explained all that and they guy said no, a caliper causes a jerking back and forth, not side to side because they grab and let go and grab and let go - he said this could be out of alignment or a bad tire belt or tires out of balance, like if a weight feel off. This is why I like these guys cuz they explain things to me and get the way I use sounds and hand motions to explain what is wrong and they actually drew me pictures to explain the brake issues last time, unlike the dealership guys who had a shut-up-and-just-trust-us-and-don't-ask-us-to-explain-anything sort of attitude.
So he calls me later after they have looked it over, and he is kinda . . . hysterical . . . I have not one but TWO tires with broken belts - one is probably the one causing the motion because it is so much worse than the other that seems to have broken just recently and well, he doesn't want to sound like he is trying to scare me, and he knows I don't want to put a lot of money into this thing, but really, do I know how dangerous it is to drive with a tire with a broken belt? Well, I knew going in they were kinda bald, as my oil change guy told me he wouldn't cross the city limits with tires that bald, let alone drive to Wisconsin. So I okay that and he hesitates . . . and I need an alignment, probably from driving with that bad tire all this time and the struts are worn too and I can leave those alone but it won't ride as well . . . so I okay that too, and later he calls to say the sway bar connectors are broken in 2 places and I really should do that too while they are in there if I drive on hills and curves (those of you who know the 'driftless area' of Wisconsin just snorted at that) - well, I know that has been broken since 2005, so I okayed that too.
He actually apologized for how much it all turned out to be when I picked it up - I like that, a repair guy who at least feels a little remorse for charging you 50-plus bucks an hour . . . but oooh, baby, does she drive like a . . . really old junker with brand new tires and perfect alignment and suspension . . .
So since I got the brakes and calipers redone before I went to Wisconsin for the last extended stay there, I thought maybe this was the calipers out of adjustment - like before the repair, it was from the bad calipers and now it was that they were not adjusted right - I know, a long shot, but that woulda made the fix free.Kinda like the guy who is looking for his keys in the front yard and a neighbor stops to help and another and another and pretty soon one of them asks when he lost them out there and he says actually he thinks he dropped them in the basement but he can't see down there cuz it's too dark so he thought he'd look out where it was light . . .
So I took it in and explained all that and they guy said no, a caliper causes a jerking back and forth, not side to side because they grab and let go and grab and let go - he said this could be out of alignment or a bad tire belt or tires out of balance, like if a weight feel off. This is why I like these guys cuz they explain things to me and get the way I use sounds and hand motions to explain what is wrong and they actually drew me pictures to explain the brake issues last time, unlike the dealership guys who had a shut-up-and-just-trust-us-and-don't-ask-us-to-explain-anything sort of attitude.
So he calls me later after they have looked it over, and he is kinda . . . hysterical . . . I have not one but TWO tires with broken belts - one is probably the one causing the motion because it is so much worse than the other that seems to have broken just recently and well, he doesn't want to sound like he is trying to scare me, and he knows I don't want to put a lot of money into this thing, but really, do I know how dangerous it is to drive with a tire with a broken belt? Well, I knew going in they were kinda bald, as my oil change guy told me he wouldn't cross the city limits with tires that bald, let alone drive to Wisconsin. So I okay that and he hesitates . . . and I need an alignment, probably from driving with that bad tire all this time and the struts are worn too and I can leave those alone but it won't ride as well . . . so I okay that too, and later he calls to say the sway bar connectors are broken in 2 places and I really should do that too while they are in there if I drive on hills and curves (those of you who know the 'driftless area' of Wisconsin just snorted at that) - well, I know that has been broken since 2005, so I okayed that too.
He actually apologized for how much it all turned out to be when I picked it up - I like that, a repair guy who at least feels a little remorse for charging you 50-plus bucks an hour . . . but oooh, baby, does she drive like a . . . really old junker with brand new tires and perfect alignment and suspension . . .
Monday, October 6, 2008
Nametags
I am a nametag cheat. I think I am pretty honest and trustworthy on other accounts but I do admit to this. I hate nametags. Information is power. My name is a piece of information about me. Both my first name and my last name are pretty unique and I don't want to have to explain anything about either to just anyone. I don't want to share how they are pronounced or where they came from or what they mean or whether I like them or most ridiculous, how long it took me to learn to spell them. I just want to be anonymous. So I go to a workshop and 'accidentally' forget to put on my nametag. 
Or I put it on my jacket then take that jacket off and 'forget' to move it to my shirt. If it is a two day event, I 'forget' the nametag at home or at the hotel room. If there is a workshop binder, I stick it inside the front cover and 'lose' it there. Or I 'accidentally' leave it in the car at lunch or break time.
Or I put it on my jacket then take that jacket off and 'forget' to move it to my shirt. If it is a two day event, I 'forget' the nametag at home or at the hotel room. If there is a workshop binder, I stick it inside the front cover and 'lose' it there. Or I 'accidentally' leave it in the car at lunch or break time. But there are two places where I proudly wear my nametag. I treasure my nametags from these events and carry them around on my car dashboard all year for the fond memories they trigger. One is Garfield Farm, where I give prairie tours, in August at an event called Heirloom Garden Day, and at another event in October called Harvest Days. The other is WomanSong, a 3 day festival of workshops and music and talks and art vendors that is held in North Dakota in September. These events and the people who organize and hold them and the people who attend them are special and wonderful and I want to connect at these events and so, there and then, I wear my nametags proudly!
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Self-Portrait
This is me reflected in front headlamp chrome and the door lever of an aged Dodge pickup truck on an abandoned farmstead in rural North Dakota. The flash and swirl of orange red is my silk WomanSong scarf from 2007. This year, I bought a hide drum.
Monday, September 15, 2008
It's Flat Out Here
I have been driving many miles in many days through the flat land of the central part of the country, sometimes by chance, to get to people I want to visit and to places I want to to be, and sometimes by choice to experience it anew as a tourist and to attempt to capture some of its essence, as a photographer.
As a child, I took it for granted, the unending flatness of it, and had an odd notion of the word 'hill'. As a teen, I resented the boringness and distance and sameness of it all and could not wait to get out, as in 'get the hell out of here'. As a young adult I hated that it was a barrier of many long boring miles of car travel to seeing family and old friends. I really only began to give it a chance as being beautiful when a professional art photographer friend sent me photographs that treated it as a place of unique beauty and made me look closer for the details and appreciate the sense of place that is wrapped up in the horizon, the perspective, the vast plain and the vast sky. I have long loved the scenic beauty of the southwest desert, the rock formations and canyons. The epic beauty of the Rocky Mountains is common knowledge. The forests of the northeast and places like Kentucky where I have traveled are taken for granted as beautiful. I have more recently loved the rambling hills of Wisconsin. But now I have come to see the flat plains as another unique form of landscape that is every bit as beautiful, and I am taking it as a self-assigned project to capture some of that in photographs. It is a magical thing to stop the car and step out into the bean field and feel the wind through your clothes and hair and hear the chirping of thousands of grasshoppers and the rustling of the leaves of the bean plants. It is interesting to leave the car to wander the ditch of the narrow roads and find shorter versions of the prairie plants that are familiar to me, remnants of what once covered this vast land. The little bluestem along the roadsides glows russet in the late afternoon light. The clouds pile up on each other and recede to the horizon in layers of light and dark. The sun lights corn tassels a glowing orange-red and lights the nearly ripe bean fields a glowing yellow and the stubble of already harvested small grain fields glows soft gold. Light plays on the land and the sky to make ever changing colors and tints and shades and I am trying to learn to capture it. It might be my greatest challenge as a photographer to capture and convey the beauty of this place, for it is a hard beauty to love in its vast endlessness and its harsh extremes. But as I learn to love it, I also want to share it in pictures and words. Go there sometime, not just passing through, but with it as a destination, and drive its smaller roads and get out and just be there. You might be as surprised as I am at the power and beauty of the place.
As a child, I took it for granted, the unending flatness of it, and had an odd notion of the word 'hill'. As a teen, I resented the boringness and distance and sameness of it all and could not wait to get out, as in 'get the hell out of here'. As a young adult I hated that it was a barrier of many long boring miles of car travel to seeing family and old friends. I really only began to give it a chance as being beautiful when a professional art photographer friend sent me photographs that treated it as a place of unique beauty and made me look closer for the details and appreciate the sense of place that is wrapped up in the horizon, the perspective, the vast plain and the vast sky. I have long loved the scenic beauty of the southwest desert, the rock formations and canyons. The epic beauty of the Rocky Mountains is common knowledge. The forests of the northeast and places like Kentucky where I have traveled are taken for granted as beautiful. I have more recently loved the rambling hills of Wisconsin. But now I have come to see the flat plains as another unique form of landscape that is every bit as beautiful, and I am taking it as a self-assigned project to capture some of that in photographs. It is a magical thing to stop the car and step out into the bean field and feel the wind through your clothes and hair and hear the chirping of thousands of grasshoppers and the rustling of the leaves of the bean plants. It is interesting to leave the car to wander the ditch of the narrow roads and find shorter versions of the prairie plants that are familiar to me, remnants of what once covered this vast land. The little bluestem along the roadsides glows russet in the late afternoon light. The clouds pile up on each other and recede to the horizon in layers of light and dark. The sun lights corn tassels a glowing orange-red and lights the nearly ripe bean fields a glowing yellow and the stubble of already harvested small grain fields glows soft gold. Light plays on the land and the sky to make ever changing colors and tints and shades and I am trying to learn to capture it. It might be my greatest challenge as a photographer to capture and convey the beauty of this place, for it is a hard beauty to love in its vast endlessness and its harsh extremes. But as I learn to love it, I also want to share it in pictures and words. Go there sometime, not just passing through, but with it as a destination, and drive its smaller roads and get out and just be there. You might be as surprised as I am at the power and beauty of the place.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Proud Moments
I got a blister drumming. At WomanSong. On Saturday night, when it rained, the program was moved from the bonfire area to the main tent, but a resilient and hardy group of women took to percussion around a fire anyway. I tried to be polite and pay attention to the goings-on in the tent, but the drumbeats called to me. I snuck off to linger at the edge of the drum circle and was shortly handed some sort of clattering devise to jangle along with the drummers and was nudged into the circle. I was enjoying that when someone put a drum into my hands in trade for the other, so I put a little effort into beating the thing, and pretty soon the other drummers and percussionists were picking up my rhythm and adding ornamentation to it and we were circling, dancing around the fire. After I got back to my tent, I found a very sore spot where my index finger joins my hand and under the light of my headlamp, found it to be a blister. Right where the stick pivots as I beat the drum. Yes, I got a blister drumming!
Meet Jennifer
What you are seing here is Jennifer, my GPS device, telling me that now that I have turned onto I-94, my next turn is in 145 miles. Yep, it is a long trip when you are driving segments like that! But worth it to get to WomanSong 2008!Saturday, May 10, 2008
Fire Breathers
They were seedy guys in bad costumes at the circus that you couldn’t see very well because you were up in the bleachers, but still, it was the coolest thing you ever saw! 
Last September, on Saturday night at WomanSong, we left the movies in theatre hall where we had been hiding from the rain and wind and cold and trying to avoid the drips coming through the holes in the roof and had about given up on the promised campfire, when the planners announced we should move to the big tent where we would have our music and poetry around . . . luminaria? . . . instead of the usual open bonfire. Well, kind of a disappointing token sort of fire thing, but we shuffled out and across the wet lawn anyway, clutching our shawls and blankets and windbreakers close. The rain seemed to have let up for the moment at least. And there, outside the tent, they were waiting for us, practicing a little, with their potions and hoops and batons . . . and their . . . FIRE! They ate the flames and breathed out plumes of fire like graceful feline dragons and made lines of fire on their arms and shoulders and twirled burning batons and danced with flaming hoops. Right there within a few short yards of us. You could see their faces, hear their breathing, see their sweat, hear the leather of her vest creak, hear the little rush of the fuel and the small roar of the burning flame, hear the whoosh whoosh whoosh of each turn of the twirling flaming hoop, hear the little breath of relief at the end of a dancer’s challenging moves, see the reflection of the flames on the beads of water on the wet grass and on the eyeglasses of the watchers. You could smell the fuel and the gases from its burning mingling with the wet smells of the rain. When she moved past close enough you could smell her perfume. You could see the dancers’ bare feet and their jewelry and hear the clank of the batons as they touched in the air. It was real and right there. Live. Fire. Firebreathing. Firedancing. WomanSong.
Last September, on Saturday night at WomanSong, we left the movies in theatre hall where we had been hiding from the rain and wind and cold and trying to avoid the drips coming through the holes in the roof and had about given up on the promised campfire, when the planners announced we should move to the big tent where we would have our music and poetry around . . . luminaria? . . . instead of the usual open bonfire. Well, kind of a disappointing token sort of fire thing, but we shuffled out and across the wet lawn anyway, clutching our shawls and blankets and windbreakers close. The rain seemed to have let up for the moment at least. And there, outside the tent, they were waiting for us, practicing a little, with their potions and hoops and batons . . . and their . . . FIRE! They ate the flames and breathed out plumes of fire like graceful feline dragons and made lines of fire on their arms and shoulders and twirled burning batons and danced with flaming hoops. Right there within a few short yards of us. You could see their faces, hear their breathing, see their sweat, hear the leather of her vest creak, hear the little rush of the fuel and the small roar of the burning flame, hear the whoosh whoosh whoosh of each turn of the twirling flaming hoop, hear the little breath of relief at the end of a dancer’s challenging moves, see the reflection of the flames on the beads of water on the wet grass and on the eyeglasses of the watchers. You could smell the fuel and the gases from its burning mingling with the wet smells of the rain. When she moved past close enough you could smell her perfume. You could see the dancers’ bare feet and their jewelry and hear the clank of the batons as they touched in the air. It was real and right there. Live. Fire. Firebreathing. Firedancing. WomanSong.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
WomanSong
What is WomanSong? WomanSong is what people are made of. WomanSong is a gathering in North Dakota in the early fall, this year, 2008, on September 6 and 7. Somehow, last year the planners found out about my little gallery and asked me to teach some workshops and give a talk. It seemed like a bad business decision to agree to drive 700 miles one way to give some workshops and a talk for a weekend, but I ignored that voice and signed on. 
Was it worth it? Many times over. What is WomanSong? Women. Young women in funky cloths that express their independence and zest for life. Older women in practical comfortable cloths. Every age of woman from every sort of profession and every sort of personality and ideology and philosophy. Songs. Many talented musicians. Audience singing along sometimes. Drumming. Talks on the main stage. Sometimes serious and sometimes funny and often a mix of both. Workshops. Many going on simultaneously all over the park. Hands on. Stuff to make and take home. So much to learn. 
You have to be 3 or 4 copies of yourself to really take in all of what is offered. Plays. Movies. Art venders. Women camping. Women laughing. Women telling their stories. Women asking for help and women giving help. Bummed smokes. Hugs from old friends and friends you just met. Owls flying over the road at night. Coyotes howling far away. 
Last year WomanSong was rain. Wet shoes, wet socks, wet hair, wet chairs, wet grass, mud. And guess when the rain broke and the sun came out? 3 minutes before my talk in the big tent was to begin. I lost my audience to the sun and had to agree to give my talk outdoors at the picnic tables on the lawn in order to bribe them back. WomanSong was new friends and new ideas and new personal challenges and new inspirations. WomanSong was fire breathing dancers. WomanSong was poetry. WomanSong was stories. WomanSong was hot coffee. WomanSong was finding out you are smarter and better off than you thought. That other people have been in your shoes and made it just fine. You leave WomanSong a better person. You leave WomanSong a stronger woman. You leave WomanSong knowing people are good and kind and that you are too. You leave WomanSong feeling . . . important! WomanSong is amazing. You should go to WomanSong. You should gather up your tent and sleeping bag and your quest for fun and personal growth and head to North Dakota in September. It might seem silly to drive however many hundred miles you are from LaMoure, North Dakota, but it will be worth it. I’ve been to WomanSong and I am going again. See you there!
Was it worth it? Many times over. What is WomanSong? Women. Young women in funky cloths that express their independence and zest for life. Older women in practical comfortable cloths. Every age of woman from every sort of profession and every sort of personality and ideology and philosophy. Songs. Many talented musicians. Audience singing along sometimes. Drumming. Talks on the main stage. Sometimes serious and sometimes funny and often a mix of both. Workshops. Many going on simultaneously all over the park. Hands on. Stuff to make and take home. So much to learn. 
You have to be 3 or 4 copies of yourself to really take in all of what is offered. Plays. Movies. Art venders. Women camping. Women laughing. Women telling their stories. Women asking for help and women giving help. Bummed smokes. Hugs from old friends and friends you just met. Owls flying over the road at night. Coyotes howling far away. 
Last year WomanSong was rain. Wet shoes, wet socks, wet hair, wet chairs, wet grass, mud. And guess when the rain broke and the sun came out? 3 minutes before my talk in the big tent was to begin. I lost my audience to the sun and had to agree to give my talk outdoors at the picnic tables on the lawn in order to bribe them back. WomanSong was new friends and new ideas and new personal challenges and new inspirations. WomanSong was fire breathing dancers. WomanSong was poetry. WomanSong was stories. WomanSong was hot coffee. WomanSong was finding out you are smarter and better off than you thought. That other people have been in your shoes and made it just fine. You leave WomanSong a better person. You leave WomanSong a stronger woman. You leave WomanSong knowing people are good and kind and that you are too. You leave WomanSong feeling . . . important! WomanSong is amazing. You should go to WomanSong. You should gather up your tent and sleeping bag and your quest for fun and personal growth and head to North Dakota in September. It might seem silly to drive however many hundred miles you are from LaMoure, North Dakota, but it will be worth it. I’ve been to WomanSong and I am going again. See you there!
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