cabin living

the rustic chronicles

Thirty-five degrees upon waking. Welcome summer morning in the mountains. I continue to sketch and work on a larger piece of work, somewhat formulated in my head somewhat not. Creativity is a fluid companion who rearranges herself in dreams and takes the form of animals or light in the day. Today, with my bike, I shall find more pieces of the puzzle to where the story needs to go. Until then, meditate on this moments of quiet from a rustic life.

the clarity of non-essentials

A few days back I travelled deep into the forest to hang out with some locals who spend a lot of time in Nepal and practice Buddhism ethics. Some help run orphanages in Nepal. Others run village libraries. Some deliver stretchers to villagers and climbers on Mount Everest. The chef at the party had cooked for base camp at Everest. She rocked out the Nepalian spices and vats of delish vegetarian and vegan options.  

Upon leaving I took this image, handheld of the party's house at peace. The inside glow, the outside glow, it all flowed.

Each day I take on one more mantra of living the Buddhist way. This time, it's about the clarity that rises when you shed all non-essentials. I spent Sunday only doing what was essential. And a whole realm of creativity and lightness opened up, which had been clogged from non-essentials. Awareness: that's where it's at in all aspects of life and love and peace. 

 

after the taking

I couldn't concentrate on work, even with a looming deadline. There was an edge in the air for some reason. The studio window kept yearning for me to look out of it. The surprise snowstorm struck hard and captured my attention. All the spring color was now turning white with blankets. I grabbed my camera and took a walk in the mountains, just as a small timeout.

Here is what I found (see, right there). Call it peace and beauty. Even the drop of snowflakes was loud in my quiet space.

When I returned to my studio, the news popped up: Boston Marathon had been bombed.

The give and take of life...the quiet and then the real quiet. It was so surreal to know that intense peace I felt while taking this image happened at the same time as people were being maimed and killed. There are many angles to quiet and reflection. Here is the passing of energies and vibrations from peace to chaos, to sadness and grief, to rest and hope. 

self-hypnosis in soft corduroy dress

Yesterday I stalked a black butterfly into the forest. It was the first one I'd seen on the property since spring arrived. Show me the way, Mr. Fluttery Goodness. You cannot be in a bad mood if you're watching a butterfly, ever noticed that? More butterfly watching for the world, I would say if I were a therapist. Go find a butterfly while sipping a simple cup of coffee. Simple, remember. Have a chill weekend, folks, and let a bug live that you might have smashed otherwise. 

 

 

 

open burn

The ground was still saturated from the melted snow. No wind.

It's burn time, he said in the morning, which jolted me out of writing mode at the kitchen table. I'll be there, let me change, I said.

On went the torn jeans and other old clothes and beanie. He brought the lighter. I gathered the pitch forks and metal rakes. We groomed the site first, a near crop circle of natural elements: rocks and tree stumps from around the property. We started the pile small. Got the fire going good, then piled it up in the name of a controlled burn....and I meditated and watched the open burn for four hours.

We missed lunch. Ate scraps of leftovers for a lunch/dinner at 4, followed that with a hike before the sunset. The cold night set in, fire came on inside, and he turned on the Everest Mt Climbing show to which I fell asleep at lord knows what time. All the cold air makes me sleepy at the day's end in front of another fire....so goes cabin living.

 

the study guide to idaho fiz

Staying in the Teton Valley taught me one thing: how to back into parking spaces. Little towns in the West love this maneauver. Stop in mid-traffic and reverse the truck into the spot. Good thing there wasn't much traffic....

Took this lil puppy of the Valley...the speed took a nice blur to the world. The fields became the color of split pea soup and bubbly drink with some artifical color added.