cabin life

Personal Collection: creative sputters

Some have a need for Whiskey. Or cigarettes. I have a need to smear charcoal with my fingers. My fingers (and side of palm) turn jet black. Sometimes, portraits come out of random parts of my creative spirit. Like this one I named "Edgar." 

Personal Collection. Night by the fire with hot tea (and puppy trying to steal my tea bag). "Edgar." Charcoal drawing. 2015

Personal Collection. Night by the fire with hot tea (and puppy trying to steal my tea bag). "Edgar." Charcoal drawing. 2015

Sketch of Life, 3

Here is a collaboration between my daughter and me, while we sat in the cabin and worked on miscellaneous art projects. This was after I inked parts of my hair aqua blue unknowingly from a broken pen. My face was splattered with ink. She laughed.

"It's even up my nose!" I said when I looked in the mirror. We were in the creative "zone."

collaboration in effect. daughter has studied my book on rothko in front of the fireplace on a cold day. she has to figure out what he was trying to say; she has to figure out for herself how color and the force of a brush stroke equate a "voice."

first things first

Window at sunrise's blue hour. Tricia Louvar was here. And took this image. 

Window at sunrise's blue hour. Tricia Louvar was here. And took this image. 

The snowy days do not keep me down. Rather, they are wells of inspiration and childish delight. I took this shot around 7 am, after spending two hours writing, and commencing with a green tea latte and revising one short fiction story along with Coffitivity. My doggy was doing the business while I waited at the door. 

After a splendid Valentine's Day date and the will to just stay put today, I am making homemade gluten-free pretzels (plenty of ways of use up the assortment of mustards in the cabin) and read this sweet little book on creativity: Making Art a Practice by Cat Bennett. I found it at the library in a roaming daze, a favorite state of mine in a library.  I work out a little. I hike with the gent. I do a few more push-ups here and there while waiting for this or that. Here's to small joys...and hoping I don't burn the pretzels promises. It's a carb night! I can feel it...screw balance on a Saturday night, I say.

tis tree hunting: (rustic chronicles continue)

Five dollars for a forestry permit and an off-roading truck equate an afternoon of good finds. Attached are a few exhibits. May you feel merry and wise, or just one, I guess.

Figure A. Bones and more wildlife bones. An intact skull found while trolling the forest for the perfect Christmas tree. We followed all guidelines.

Figure B. Ta-da: the prized and freshly cut ponderosa pine.

Figure C. Heading home. Lunch! Handmade bling, including the decorated sugar cookie ornaments adorn the tree, which are also the ones the dog eats off the tree when he thinks the coast is clear. Oops. It’s pretty darn cute.Happy holidays to you and yours.....

the morning mantra

I'm caught in a good inner calm of focused energy, which flourishes with hungry reading spells, so all social media and networking slide away.  A morning mantra is granted as well. Here's to your inner harmony maker.

Self-portrait: morning life ritual to writing and drinking hot tea to the sound of pin-drop silence. (Slackline box on floor. Should put that away.)

one headlight


There is no sound of one headlight. You might not notice it in the city. Until you get way outside the county lines. Then, your headlights shine on an old abandoned ski resort, even the little rental cabins left astray, and then you know something is up. Something is up with winter places in the summer, with rusted out ski lifts and creaky doors where you know rats have danced since the days people left. At the threshold of such a place and in the dying light of day, do you enter?

I have found such a place on the way back to the cabin. And it is an imagination goldmine. I hope you have places like this, too....

absorption of limitless space

The weekend library visit prompts much deliberation each day I devote to reading prose, poetry, philosophy. Here is an excerpt from one book that engages me.   

“One will again suffer, grow old, and die. Thus for Buddhists the final goal should be a supramundane path, one that leads out of cyclical existence altogether and which results in either state of Buddhahood or at least the more limited nirvana of an arhat or solitary realizer.”

Introduction to Tibetan Buddhism, John Powers

Here are some images from my mundane world…which is close to earthbound nirvana for me. A random sample from living a simple life:


the art of learning

Yesterday a Swiss man who sounded like Gerard Butler came to the cabin. A former forestry worker, now a log cabin maker, he told us about our place and about an infected log in need of preservation. I asked about the man who built it. He said he was a calm man, a Buddhist, and still around.
     Mr. Guy who resembles an ATF vested agent on the back of a Humvee smiled next to me and said softly, "That explains a lot." He knows how drawn I have became to our homestead, as it leapt out of nowhere from the map. All along I have told him it is part of our dharma. He rolls his eyes at me most of the time. 
     This morning, with hot tea in hand, heading to the studio hut, I saw the light, the tree, the long grasses I've been cutting and tending. And this is why we live here. Simple images, as this. Surprises with each step. Shall I mention the bird calls? Too pathetic, sentimental? Perhaps, but glorious winged creatures they are.
     Before digging back into work, I read parts of Tricycle Magazine. Here is an excerpt from a semester ending speech from Seido Ray Ronci, monk/professor at University of Missouri. What can you glean? For me: a continuation of everything. 
"Socrates said that the unexamined life isn’t worth living. It was true then and it’s true now. Ideally, an education is to help you live a fully examined life. You learn the important questions to ask. You learn how to seek for the answers to those important questions. And when you find the answers, you learn how to make sense of them. But you never can stop asking questions. There is one question of many parts that is the most important question of all: who am I; who was I before I was born; what happens when I die? This is the ultimate question that all human beings are confronted with, and that wise human beings have always aspired to answer. Until you understand that—what most people never do—there are many, many questions to ask. Education teaches you not just how to ask questions but also what questions to ask. The more you learn, of anything, the more questions you will have. In short, a good education teaches you how to learn for the rest of your life."
     Here is the article in its entirety. Have a good weekend. And examine your truth....namaste.