Lemuria - Artists Without Borders

Wise Words - Joyeux Noel Film

2005-12-09T19:58:00.000-08:00

"If we could read the secret history of our enemies, we should find in

each man's life sorrow and suffering enough to disarm any hostility."

- Henry Wordsworth Longfellow.

This quote leads in the story of the new film "Joyeux Noel" that tells

the story of the fraternizations on Christmas Day, during the Great War in 1914.

The film is brilliant,

sad, funny and wise. Peace is possible.

Here are some wise quotes from this wise man,

just click on this link:

http://www.coolquotes.com/quotes/henry_wordsworth_longfellow.html

(I love the one about being seventy and the alps!)

UNDER THE SYCAMORE TREE

2005-12-09T06:08:00.000-08:00

I have partaken of a bath
Potions and oils to delight
even the wrinkliest of skins
Why is that one feels half
their age when these magic waters
leave our bodies like they were
in our youth...and not a word said ?

I am sitting in my white terry towelling bath robe
on a chair, not of bone
but reeds and bamboo from the river
I think of friends I spent a holiday with
The stimulation of political conversation
Solving the problems of the world
Bemoning the changes in society

But then a wine or two on the front porch
Looking down on the river in moonlight
One became more at ease
Thanking the land we live on
And realising how fortunate we are
Our hard labour is bringing benefits to us
Why is is not so for all ?

I am looking foward to visiting the Market
meeting up with travellers and friends
Sharing stories of wonderful adventures
Isn't it grand to travel without leaving the village
Its all there in our imaginations
of what to buy ,for whom will we bring gifts to,
paintings,dolls,perfumes,books,healing medicines
and listening to Faucon........King of Poets
as he reads wonderful stories of homelands unfamiliar to me

I wake ,I have slept for an hour or two under
the Sycamore Tree on my hand made chair
It is time to dress in my gypsy skirt and leather sandals,a white soft cotton frilly blouse will compliment the look.
My purple back-pack and assorted gathered memories tucked safely away when the drawstring is pulled tight
Au revoir for now ,till we meet once more fellow wanderers.

Lois (Muse of the Sea) 10-12-05

" CHERITY "

2005-12-09T05:10:00.000-08:00

Now Faucon spins a yarn
Like no one I know
Telling stories of ordinary folk
Stories that make them important
In a world obsessed by fame
His people are endeared to one and all
Not forgotten in a minute or two
as are film stars ,politicians, war heros, miracle makers.

The folk who make this world
Are those who in adversity
Come out to care for all those
who maybe one day called them
by another name ,not pleasant
Perhaps disasters,poverty,when all hope is lost
These are the folks whom for me
are aptly named
" The Salt of this Earth"

I know of these folks
in my land
I know them from experience
I listened to the tales told
by Fathers and Mothers
of times long ago
When these folks lived next door
or around the corner
They were "One for all and all for one"
in those times in the past

I ask Faucon
"Will they come again those times"
Oh wise one
please tell me YES.

Lois (Muse of the Sea) 9-12-05

Cherity

2005-12-09T00:52:00.000-08:00

A & T @ Camp

In a little bitty town outside of Hattiesburg, Mississippi, there's a potbelly pig by the name of Miss Lucy. She lives on a farm with two gals, three cats, five dogs, a kid goat, some armadillos, a horse, and God knows what else.

During the bad manners of Hurricane Katrina, as people scattered from helter to skelter, the two gals, who could have sought far safer shelter, gathered all the animals around Miss Lucy. And while this little piggy stayed home, the furry little family, all snuggled up, formed one big hairball on the floor of the kitchen.

As Katrina sucked the scream from the lips of coyotes, and the wind pried the clouds right off of the sky - as one tree after another went up and came down, and pieces of the roof delivered telegrams all over town - the big old oak that used to shade the main house went toenails up, went clean through the room with the computer, the printer, and the telephone that ran the farm.

'Cept it wasn't just a farm, mind you. It was a retreat center-sorta-summer camp for women (mostly gay) who drove all the way down from the tippy-top of Maine- just to sit back and reflect, just to re-read an old book and maybe make a little art. And the two gals who ran the camp hoped to do the same thing right after the critters were fed, the meals were served and the cabins were cleaned.

Well, it doesn't take a Southern Baptist to report that the sweetest place on planet Earth to be outright homosexual sure ain't Mississippi-but there they were: two women. And it wasn't any fun findin' the dogs poisoned, hearin' the bullets whizzin', and growin' numb to the sound of the threats against your life. But when you love your land you love your land, and that's the place you call home.

So when Katrina spat her way over the river and through the woods, making the dirt road impassable and the office just plain unusable, all Camp programming went the way of the old oak. And the two gals, they rolled up their sleeves, hiked up their skirts, and went to work: haulin' trees and clearin' trails, patchin' roofs and pluggin' leaks. From McCallum to Biloxi there were houses with no rafters and babies with no bottles, but you know all that.

What you don't know is that the little gay summer camp with the still-stocked pantry (which might have fed those two gals 'til Katrina's cousins came a-callin') became a food bank even faster than FEMA could whistle Dixie. So while the old lady up the road was out of everything from grits to food stamps, and while the kind churches opened their big kitchens - but the disciples of one doctrine turned away the believers of another - the two women got the word out that there was food up at their place for anybody who would come and get it.

Not everybody knew what to make of a farm with lavender gates but one by one, folks inched up the dirt road. They loaded their trucks and layered their trunks; they crammed their knapsacks and bulged their pockets. And a funny thing happened. The more oatmeal and toilet paper that flew off of those shelves, the higher the food piled up in that pantry.

No matter how many piggies came to market, it seemed that no little piggy had none. And you can call it the miracle of the Loaves and the Fishes but when those two gals passed around what they had-what they had just multiplied.

Don't know how, but money started pourin' in - mostly from gays and lesbians who'd heard about them from a friend. They had everything from rice and beans to toothpaste and tampons, from frosting and cake mix to wooden chopsticks and kosher noodles, from bird seed and pig vittles to insulin and little needles.

They gave it to anyone-no matter what color their god or flavor their Jesus-
who would come up the road and fetch it. But some little piggies, on account of that "lifestyle" and the chance they might "catch it," went wee wee wee all the way home. And if you think that stopped those two gals-from pilin' high that truck and makin' one big drop where folks wouldn't hesitate to stop and pick it up-you can think again.

They had, at last count, moved over one thousand tons (that's two million pounds) on and off of those shelves, up and down that dirt road.

And now that things are windin' down-and most folks have makeshift roofs of tarpaulin blue-Miss Lucy, the three cats, the five dogs and the kid goat (the armadillos, the horse, and God knows what else) have better things to do than huddle up in a hoof-heap on the floor of the kitchen.

And the same folks who might have once set out antifreeze for the animals, or pocked the stable wall with bullet holes, are just as likely to have the two gals in for supper. And the two who used to offer solace to their sisters all the way from Maine (the two who can tell ya that givin' and receivin' are the same dang thing) are thinkin' on ways to blend their gift for community with a little hospitality-and
serve it up to their friends and neighbors there in southern Mississippi

She is happiest be she queen or peasant who finds peace in her own home. ---- Goethe

Serendipitous Calendar

2005-11-29T10:54:00.000-08:00

Using some of my brother's favorite images, I put together a calendar for 2006. The haunting photo for November was taken during his last visit to St. Louis at the Missouri Botanical Gardens. I thought the angel reflection was fitting for the month of All Souls Day. The image for December (which is a bit hard to see in this small format) is a selection of photos taken of San Antonio Christmas lights. They were photos Stan must have taken last Christmas and compiled into this arrangement to make a Christmas card for this year.

I'm selling these calendars and the prints on this website as a way to support his two sons -- Danny and Kyle. All the profit earned from his site will go to his boys.

If you are interested in buying a calendar or single prints for framing, please go to SerendipityImages.com.

Tree Photo

2005-11-26T17:01:00.000-08:00

As a tribute to my brother, I entered Kodak's photo contest. In order to win, you have to be one of the top 4 people to receive votes for your picture. I didn't realize that voting ends tomorrow (Sunday) at midnight eastern time, so I don't likely have a chance at winning. But, if you'd like to see my photo, go to http://kodak.eprize.net/olympics/ and enter my e-mail address as ashleyshea[at]charter[dot]net. You can vote once today (Saturday) before midnight eastern time and once tomorrow (Sunday) if you'd like. If you know of anyone who wouldn't mind voting, please pass this along.

Thanks!

Serendipity Images

2005-11-15T10:39:00.000-08:00

Some of you asked me to let you know when the images on my brother's site, Serendipity Images, would be available for sale. I just received the image files that I need so that you can place orders. The money earned from sales of Stan's photos will be shared between his two sons.

Thank you for your interest in Serendipity Images and your support during this troubling time of my life.

Remembrance Day

2005-11-12T03:19:00.000-08:00

Lights - For AshleaShea's Post Below

2005-11-01T03:14:00.000-08:00

In Memoriam

2005-10-16T21:06:00.000-07:00

I have been missing from this beautiful land for far too long. I had embarked on a journey a few weeks ago to obtain art to show and sell in the North Star Studios. My travels were short by unexpected events. The Enchantress was aware of the recent events that weigh heavy on my heart and suggested that I post here.

My brother Stan was 49 years old when he died this week. He was a gentle soul, never wanting to cause anyone harm. In an attempt to protect everyone, no one knew how ill he really was. We knew he had a brain tumor a few months ago followed by chemotherapy and radiation. He told us the doctors had been able to get all the cancer and nothing showed up in follow-up MRIs, when, instead, he was told he only had a few months to live. He had a very aggressive form of brain cancer that no amount of treatment could keep up with. He had a second operation a couple of weeks ago in an attempt to remove some pressure from his brain so that he wouldn't be in as much pain, but that operation was not successful. He was starting to lose his sight in addition to constant headaches beyond belief (In his last moments, the pressure on his brain registered 120. We were told that normal pressure is about 8). Not being able to see beyond the bleakness of his future and believing he needed to spare us all, he ended his life last Sunday night. We believe he may have overdosed on Tylenol and other drugs he had available and jumped from his apartment balcony. Though, with the amount of pressure on his brain, he may have easily taken too many drugs without even knowing and who knows what kind of state of mind that put him in.

My brother was an artist. He started with graphic arts when he was in high school and photography when he was in college. He found a love of computer programming, too, and found it paid the bills a whole lot easier. So, when he wasn't programming computers, he was planning trips to take photos of nature. He built a website at SerendipityImages.com to sell his photos, but never really got much attention. His dream was to retire early and spend his time on photography and painting watercolors.

We have no recent pictures of Stan, so I am having some of his photographs printed to display during visitation and a memorial service this week. I made a prayer card using one of his photos, too. (Let me tell you, it was quite a challenge to get the funeral director to understand that I could make the front of the prayer card and send it to the printer via e-mail. I guess not all people can be internet/computer geeks. ;-) I couldn't get access to the high res images he sells on his website because we have no idea what his passwords are. But I did get CDs of photos he took that time he visited us back in August. I don't have an eye for what makes a great photo as he did, so I just chose a few I liked. The photos below are the ones I chose. I can't wait to see them printed in poster size! Between these and several images I'm printing out myself, I'm hoping that everyone who comes to the visitation and/or memorial service can leave with one of Stan's photos.

Here's to Stan -- the artist and gentle soul that he was and will continue to be! I wish for you an eternity of galaxy hopping, swinging on stars, and learning all about those things in the universe that you found intriguing. May you always be joyful and never ever have to carry such a burden alone again.

The Islamabad Quake - Flower Offering

2005-10-08T21:27:00.000-07:00

Today's Sad News

2005-10-02T00:06:00.000-07:00

Hoping for peace in the world. Saddened to hear of the incident in Bali. Peace to the family and friends of those involved in the incident today.

Remember Katrina!

2005-09-29T22:43:00.000-07:00

Karen found Operation Den. I thought it should go here, since this blog was started because of hurricane Katrina. The pictures and text are both extraordinary.
Thanks, Karen.

Latest News On Stamping Project

2005-09-26T15:31:00.000-07:00

Dear Stamping friends,

Thank you to all the wonderful emails from you who are supporting the We Care Card Art Kitsproject. I am encouraged and eager to see your cards, and I'm sure those who receive the card-filled boxes will be so grateful. Our copy-room at USArtQuest is nearly impassable with the 3396 cards and goodie boxes
already received. I can't imagine what 14,400 will look like! (However, I'm open to finding out!) Next we plan on filling the break room.

The amazing store, Mississippi Paper Arts pledged 1/2 of the cards, or 14,400 of the 38,000+ , and even pulled a 24 hour marathon to meet their challenge. Jennifer, a stamp club member and AMAZINGLY terrific lady, did 2000 cards BY HERSELF! Needless to say, she was really hurting the next day. My last call from Carrie said that they did 7,500 in one night, and sent the balance of the cards home with stamp club members. She was telling me, they are planning to go to hospital cafeterias, teacher's lunchrooms and other areas where adults gather, and have someone help teach nurses, teachers and others to stamp and assist in meeting the goal. (What a gal!) As a side-benefit to fulfilling the
project, it is also a great way to teach basic stamping to those who have never stamped. (That will certainly help the stamp industry!) During lunch, anyone can stamp 5 or 10 cards, themselves enjoying a bit of art therapy which I'm sure they could use.

Our plan is to ship 1/2 of the cartons directly to Mississippi Paper Arts. They'll already be filled with the art materials, and await the cards they've made. Then the club members plan on distributing them directly to the community centers, churches, etc. themselves, again helping those folks to make their cards and teach them a bit of card making techniques. A Louisiana VFW women's auxilliary in Union, Lincoln, Ouachita and Morehouse Parrishes will be hand-delivering several hundred boxes, as well. We're still in tuned to ther smaller groups who want to help - and I will be glad to make any phone calls, if there are recommendations. Please just email me privately. In particular, we need
distribution in Alabama. We'll send boxes to other remote areas directly, if there is a group or auxilliary that will do the distribution.

Until next week.
Most kindly,
Susan
Susan Pickering Rothamel
president
USArtQuest, Inc.
7800 Ann Arbor Road
Grass Lake, Michigan 49240 USA
www.usartquest.com

At the Convenience of Others

2005-09-25T17:42:00.000-07:00

I've grown very tired of all the propaganda telling me how I'm every bit as human and valuable as a healthy counterpart in this society. How do they figure that is so? Granted there are always going to be examples of those who rose above their disability and still became wealthy and I know they find romance against all the odds. That's the thing about propaganda, it has it's greatest strength when it makes one person's unusual success seem as that which is easily achieved by anyone.

Over the last couple of weeks watching the coverage of Hurricane Katrina certain realities have just for the moment come to light. Not everyone has the means to flee a natural disaster, not the poor, not the disabled, not the elderly. Worse no-one noticed this until after the fact. Even once this truth was evident there were still those who seemed to blame the poor and disabled for not being prepared, some people just don't get it.

I cannot afford to live in the fairy tale that I am anyone's equal. I am not. I cannot keep up if a disaster hits, my survival clearly, depends on the kindness of those around me to help me along at the cost that they themselves are slowed down. Frankly on days I feel really badly, when I am more sick than disabled I often do not feel like putting out any effort to outrun a storm or an earthquake.

If I were superbly wealthy I could hire someone to give a damn, well, hopefully they would give a damn and not run and leave me to sit while the world caves in on me. Many of us are at the mercy of others. we are forced to maintain our lives at the pace others set for us. When we are quiet and out of view we are easily forgotten. I don't know what is more depressing, the state of poverty and poor health, or knowing that society has mostly forgotten you, and there is nothing you can do about it.

The last couple of weeks, while mostly sick in bed, I wondered how I could garner some control of my very existence. That's as far as it will get. I can think about it, for a while, and then it just becomes overwhelming and in order not to sink into depression abandon the demons it stirs up. I pick up the pencils and draw my worst fears, once out I can draw breath easily again, for now.

Sparrow Girl - There are no small floods...

2005-09-12T20:55:00.000-07:00

Most morning I would awake to the sound of the pylon drivers at the end of our street. Those were familiar sounds the kind you can easily sleep through. This particular morning was devoid of the usual loud banging which would start at 7 am. I heard voices in the apartment and not my parents voices either. This was highly unusual, people never came calling before 11 am, and those occasions were very few indeed.

There was something very strange about the voices. I tried very hard to listen to what was being said but I could not make it out. I was very unsure that I should come out of my room. Why were there people in my apartment? Why had the pylon drivers not started their banging, and -- this was important -- why had my mother not come to wake me with my morning kiss and take me to have breakfast?

I tried pulling myself up to the window frame in my room, but it was too high up and I kept falling down. It looked like another rainy day. Between tries at listening through the door and pulling myself up to the window I crawled back into bed, my feet got very cold very fast. I would risk mother getting angry if I cam out before she came to get me, those were the rules. So I waited a little longer, until I could not longer stand it.

There were even more voices once the door was opened, exited voices, new voices. Those were people I did not know. was becoming a little more frightened now. I shuffled my way to the living room. I noticed the coat rack was completely full and there were shoes parked by the apartment's outer door, shoes that did not belong to either me or my parents. I hesitated to come around the corner, but I did.

There were a lot of people in my apartment, looking out of the large picture window in the living room. There were many teacups on the table. I had not idea we even had that many tea cups. My mom was not in the living room. If there was tea, maybe she was in the kitchen. I was torn, do I look out the window and find what everyone was so terribly interested in or do I go to find mom? Just then I heard her laugh in the kitchen. so she was there, and she was fine. I could assume then, that these people were permitted entry. that left me free to go to the window.

Whatever it was so absorbed everyone that no -one took any notice of me being the. It was gloomy, barely any daylight, the endless horizon streaked across the back of the landscape, dreary, grey. So what was the excitement? I drew nearer the window, we were on the third floor, single family dwelling, just completed a little while ago were across the street and behind them, nothing, just polder, field, some sheep, and cows. When I got to the window I suddenly found the reason for this early morning gathering. This must actually have been going on for a while as I slept. The whole of the polder was flooded our building was all that stuck out above the water line. Dead bloated cows were floating quietly back and forth on the water.

These people were from below. We were fortunate to live above the flood line. Nothing of ours was caught under water. My bed was dry and warm and safe. some of these kids now drinking milky tea in my living room were not at all so fortunate. This is why they were here. I spent most of the rest of the day helping out as much as a four year old can, with bringing tea, toast and cookies to those who had no place to go but the homes of neighbours above the flood line. There was no telephone, we did not have one, and most probably the lines that other neighbours had were not working. so there was exited shouting back and forth down the gallery lane. Strangers flitted in and out all day with snippets of what was going on. Terribly exciting. It took the scary bits out of the day, the scary bits that were floating bloated and dead on the water. By supper time the water had started to recede. The Dutch are very good at dealing with floods on polders. A very industrious few days followed, the cleaning up.

I don't remember much about the cleanup, after all it was not our apartment getting flooded, that goodness. The occasional neighbour would still drop in, exhausted and telling my mother how it was for them, working their way through soaked belongings. Eventually the pylon drivers started up again first thing in the morning. I still live in apartments, never at ground level, and always on top of a hill. There is nothing very secure when living below sea level, even with scuba gear under the bed. Being Dutch there is tremendous respect for the sea, it represents the force of nature which challenges man or drives them off. I can swim, and row a boat, and I am smart and priviledged enough to live well away from it's reach.

aletta

2005-09-10T06:49:00.000-07:00

USArtQuest
My cozy quarters in Lemuria is great for small projects but my cell is clear of distractions so it is here I shall work on my small contribution to the survivers of Katrina. The pledge on joining this order was: " to those votaries who have committed themselves to Making Art A Daily Practice", and for as long as it is a help I am going to try to complete projects of art for the children. Creativity has gotten me through so many troublesome times , and, THOUGH WATER, FOOD, AND SHELTER MAY BE THE NUMBER ONE PRIORITY AT THIS TIME THE MIND OF THE CHILDREN MUST BE HEALED. I believe art is a powerful help to healing. At least, for a short period of time, it diverts the mind from their pain. So, for now I shall concentrate on the children.

I believe that a way will cross your path, to help, so as USArtQuest is the first group I have heard of that can distribute I shall start there. As I get further on this journey I am sure I will hear of other projects but for now I have left over materials scattered all over the floor of my cell and I am in the process of cutting trims, stamping, adding miscelaeous embellishments, and bagging groups of 6 with stamped envelopes , and perhaps, one example card.

With our thoughts, we make the world

2005-09-09T05:16:00.000-07:00

These are the words of Buddha, and I have been thinking about them a lot lately, as I watch the world turning into our worst nightmare.
It seems we have seen it all before - over and again, we have watched New York and other cities being destroyed – whether by aliens, volcanoes, earthquakes or global warming. Destruction is a common theme that runs through so much of our `entertainment’ but when it actually happens there is no Bruce Willis to save us all.
I have read a great deal about `manifesting’ on the net – the modern idea is that you can visualise things into being – prosperity, your dream house, whatever. Art is visualisation – and filmmaking is visualisation on a scale beyond our imaginings – whatever you imagine, a filmmaker, with computer generated imagery, can make it so.
Our small visualisations seem puny against this kind of mass visualisation, but I think it is important that we do combat it in every way we can. Not by being sunnily optimistic in the face of overwhelming evidence that all is not well with the planet, but by countering the negativity, and using our art to visualise a better world, better solutions and better responses to tough times.
As artists, we owe it to a suffering world to spread healing messages through our art and writing. The artists of Lemuria understand this very well, but it seems to me we that maybe we need to stem this tide of negativity and hopelessness that is sweeping over everything. I am still formulating these thoughts, and am not sure where they are leading me, but it is maybe something that other artists can pick up and discuss here at Artists Without Borders.
``With our thoughts, we make the world.”

Listen to your heart...

2005-09-08T18:41:00.000-07:00

...and it will show you how to heal.

image by Susan Wolfe

For my sisters

2005-09-08T04:17:00.000-07:00

never a knight --
we only touch that which people already wish to do,
but have foregotten how
.................................................

Tremble Lemuria

I do not tremble before a tsunami dragon,
Despite awesome breath and rearing head and chaotic rage.
Nay, for Mother Earth did but shrug her weary shoulders,
And quite predictably flicked off a noisome gnat or two –
As is her right, and call perhaps to a song unheard.

I choose not to tremble before a swirling wind,
Though I may weep for those unprepared for what they know.
It may well be that the Tengri is called to be herald
To the dynamics of lost faith and humanity,
Made apparent in man's incompetence and greed.

Yet, I tremble before the simplest acts of kindness,
Stroked again by intuitive trust in basic love --
The oh so ready hand that can reach out and open,
Were they not constrained in stuffed shirts and silk purses,
And fear that charity will be punished or rebuked.

Why does it take a disaster, even one self imposed,
For many to grasp that all are one in finality,
And that the simple sharing of bread and water and salt
Has nothing to do with religion or practiced rite,
But a suppressed hunger for kindness to ourselves.

Tremble not my children as sisters proclaim open hearts
And ancient mem’ries tickle your soul’s yearning balance.
Never, for they are the conduits of Currents and Wings
That weave man’s intent into a tapestry of creation
That surely answers, “Yes!” to a trumpeting of stardust.

Yet tremble! -- tremble, weep and scatter beyond reasoned fear
In the path of whispered simple words of offered kindness,
For truth knows only sunshine and compassion asks no fee.
No one can accept the invite that living offers thee,
But hand in hand we can dance and be what we might be.

Every fiber of my being trembles in sympathy,
Responding to a plucked string and ever present song,
Called 'even as you do to the least of me' or other --
And in the sunlight following the sinking of Lemuria
I know that I too 'am the least' and in need of love.

Faucon's Computer Drive

2005-09-07T23:37:00.000-07:00

There are many free programs for your computers on offer through the internet, if you need links per Microsoft or other, let me know. Security, art programs, games for kids, and many other things can be downloaded to disks - ask people for spares, maybe? Then the download is easier. All for free! Bless you!

Some Action

2005-09-07T20:12:00.000-07:00

Partially because of the idea of this blog,
and the thought of how many relay on internet communication,
I got in touch with several like minded people in the SCA
located throught Lousiana, Alabama, Georgia, Tennessee,
and Mississippi. We are locating every possible laptop and PDA
with internet access from members and people they know,
and getting them to the camps and shelters.
Two people volunteered generators and a number have
converters for their cars they will drive.

So far we have 83 available for this weekend -- and growing.
With a planned 10 minute access limit (first time around) -- well,
you do the math. Even with a lot of travel between sites and battery problems, we are hoping for more than 8,000 people calling relatives in the next couple of days.

Simple, really -- all we had to do was ask. Keep the peace -- no one wants news coverage or interference, especially from our helpful govenment.

I will keep you posted. After all, I told them the idea came from Australia.

Maybe we will find a couple of poets. Right now, no one is asking.

faucon

Making New Homes

2005-09-07T16:19:00.000-07:00

I am part of a group of people in St. Louis who will be giving refugees a more comfortable place to stay for a while as the water receeds and their houses are rebuilt.

Yesterday I met with a local art group here and we made small journals (just 10 sheets of white paper, a cardstock cover, thread binding, minor embellishments on the cover, an envelope attached to the inside back cover, a little note from us on the inside front cover and a paperclip attached to this first page. We thought this would give them
a place to write important information, thoughts, whatever. I can't believe how quick the work went. I think there were 12 of us working. I had to leave at lunch time, but I hear the group finished up 150 journals in all.

One of our members has contacts with the people cleaning up an old prison to make it homey. She's asking them to make an art room available and we have offered to help fill it with supplies. I don't think she's received a response from them about whether or not it is possible.

I will definitely let you all know how you can be of help as I'm made aware of what is needed.

To those who have lost their homes

2005-09-07T05:29:00.000-07:00

As I slide naked into the soothing waters of the bath house, I sigh with relief. It’s ironic that I am so comforted by the water—so many of my southern kinswomen and men are suffering because of the presence of it. I have always felt that water was my home, and indeed, as it makes up the largest part of my physical body, that I was merely one small vessel in a world made of water. My veins are rivers and tributaries of the stuff, and I would be in the same grave danger as New Orleans if my defenses were breached, my precious lifeblood allowed to flow to whatever low point it could find outside the stable boundary of my skin.

From the Water Consciousness website:
All energy requires a conductor. Water is the main conductor of life force (radiant energy) and consciousness at universal level, both in the physical and in the 'Etheric' realms.
For there is an Etheric realm, as there is a physical realm; there are different types of etheric energy, as there are different types of physical energy; and there is etheric water as there is physical water. Let us define these:

· Etheric water is God's thought-form. It is an etheric wave-form of God's radiant energy in the multi-dimensional level of existence.

We call it "The Ocean of Love" in which the multi-universe, universes, galaxies, stars and planets are not actually "floating" but rather, are a part of the whole.

· Physical water holds the Energy Matrix of Consciousness in the Physical Body. This is true for the Planet Earth and all sentient beings on it. The Life force of the Body (Water) is maintained through Breath. Every breath carries a new pulse of Light in the flow of energy through the body. Therefore, Water, Light and Breath maintain life in the Physical realm.

I ponder these deep thoughts about water. I am a constant seeker, uncertain of the truth of the universe, but if God does exist, and if she is anywhere, surely she is in the elemental forms of water, air, fire, earth.

When I see a person who is quite ill in my medical practice, I often hydrate them, and in a few short hours I behold the healing powers of water. Those three molecules--hydrogen, hydrogen, and oxygen, flow into the rivers of the body, plumping the tissues, expanding cell walls like a cellulose sponge in a basin of dishwater. It is remarkable how much better people feel and look when their basic “hydrochemistry” is brought back into balance. But I must be careful not to overburden them—dilute their electrolytes and congest their hearts. The balance must be maintained, with skill and deliberation.

Now we see the world’s hydrochemistry out of balance. We see the destructive power of water, the power that dilutes hope and congests human spirit, and it seems there is no caring presence nearby monitoring the balance, adjusting the flow just so to maintain the health of the organism. What is the plan, where is the god of the elements?

The website I referenced speaks of “the consciousness of water,” and the response of water molecules to speech, thought, emotion, and prayer. I want to believe that this water in its rush to freedom meant no harm. In seeking the beloved, it forgot its power. Each molecule vibrates with hope as it travels toward merger with the open sea, back to elemental wildness. We cannot help but be injured as our captive rushes toward freedom, away from its position as ornament, workhorse, power source.

A dolphin nudges me, gently, then rubs softly against my side and makes a deep clicking noise. I rest my face against her smooth rubbery skin and sigh. My salty tears fall into the collective.

Survivors - Positive Action

2005-09-07T02:33:00.000-07:00

"I think we all—this country—owe these people an apology. We still don't know how many of our fellow Americans lost their lives in the Katrina catastrophe. As New Orleans mayor Ray Nagin says, 'It is a number we all fear.' But we do know that a million did survive. They are not refugees. And I hope that everybody in this country and the world stops calling them refugees, because they are not. They are survivors and we, the people, will not let them stand alone. They are Americans." — Oprah

http://www.oprah.com/tows/pastshows/200509/tows_past_20050906.jhtml

Stampers Can Help

2005-09-04T21:02:00.000-07:00

September 3, 2005

Dear Stamping Friends,
USArtQuest has found a small, yet significant way to help those who
will for some time, be living in makeshift housing of our devastated
south. We know that once the evacuees have reached a point where
essential life-needs are met,they will also need something to keep
their spirits up.

The employees of USArtQuest will begin assembling Card Art Kits on
October 1. These kits are to benefit those suffering from their
overwhelming sense of loss, by providing a bit of art therapy. Hands
can stay creatively busy, while helping hearts heal. Although the
process of evacuating and relocating may take several weeks or
months, our project will also take that long to assemble.

This is how you can participate:
Please gather your friends, your cardstock and pretty Christmas
stamps, new, old, juvenile, pretty, elegant, cute and in-between –
all just begging to be used. Stamp and emboss at least 6
Christmas/Holiday cards WITH ENVELOPES and send them to USArtQuest.

DO NOT color them or do anything to embellish them in any way, other
than to stamp and emboss. Pre-layering images is acceptable. We want
nicely stamped, but plain cards. PLEASE PUT POSTAGE ON THE ENVELOPES
and 6 cards into one zip-lock bag. If you use dark cardstock, please
enclose a piece of white paper, so that personal notes can be written
with regular ballpoint pens.

USArtQuest will supply the brushes, watercolors, stickers, additional
paper/card, markers and the oodles of donated creative materials, as
well as do the assembly, packing and shipping of the kits to the
affected areas. Those who receive the kits will have, for at least a
few hours, the opportunity to sit, paint, embellish and finish the
cards for their friends and family for the holidays. We all know that
something as small as sending or receiving a card can be very
important. But, more importantly, these handmade cards may be the
only gift they can give this year.

Our goal is to send 200 kits, each kit having enough materials for 12
people. (That means a staggering, 72 stamped cards per kit.) If we
receive more cards, then we will assemble as many kits as the cards
support. We would like to ship the first pallet of kits, by mid-
October. If my arrangements to personally distribute the kits does
not happen, (my sister lives in Houston), then we have asked that
Points of Light Foundation and the Salvation Army to begin
distributing the kits in late October.

If you would like to include ribbons, stickers or other creative
materials not commonly carried by USArtQuest, we will also include
them in the kit boxes. If you are able to participate, please begin
sending your cards, with postage attached and/or materials to:

USArtQuest, Inc.
7800 Ann Arbor Road
Grass Lake, MI 49240
ATTN: We Care

With heartfelt thanks and prayers for our neighbors,
Susan
president
Susan Pickering Rothamel
USArtQuest,

Artists Without Borders

2005-09-04T18:35:00.000-07:00

Lemuria is a world without borders, status or property. It is no small irony that myth tells us that Lemuria was devastated by events like the Tsunami in South East Asia and the hurricane that devastated New Orleans and surrounding areas. Passport carrying Lemurians are free to wander within any part of this realm. Any artist or writer who is a refugee, has lost their home, had their lives totally dislocated, is entitled to free passports to travel and gain the pyschological support of other travellers.