You know, even as a pagan who steeps myself in magic and lore on a daily basis; I still get surprised at some of the strange weaving of fate that happens. Recently, I attended some gatherings of a local Druid Grove and little did I know how deep these webs were woven into my own personal tapestry.

To add to the surprise, let me tell you about the origins of my craft. I was about twenty three when I started hearing voices on the wind and seeing a strange antlered man in the woods. I thought I was going mad that year, haunted by these signs and omens. Luckily, I was surrounded by the Catskill Mountains and all around me were cloisters of pagan covens, full of help and information to help me. My first gods were The Morrigan (the three sisters of fate) whom I could hear when the winds would raise; and then there was Cernunnos, the figure that haunted me when I walked in the woods. Sometimes he would even invade my dreams…I would wake with the sound of his breath, the cracking of twigs under his hooves, the smell of undergrowth clinging to my nostrils.

Long have these gods been with me and now on my thirty ninth year, I find more to this story:

The name of the Druid grove I attended is called The Three Cranes Grove. Their name is derived from an archaeological artifact found underneath the Cathedral of Notre Dame. The artifact is called Le Pilier Des Nautes (Pillar of the Boatmen) and on one of the top carvings there is a Bull with three cranes resting on it and inscribed above it Tarvos Trigaranus (Taurus/ Three Cranes). It is suspected that they represent the nature spirits that guard the sacred woods and groves.

Yet what interests me the most is the name under that carving. For right under the Tarvos Trigaranus, is the only written reference we have to the god Cernunnos. The Horned God of the wood. There are certainly many carvings of this figure (from Belgium, to Germany, to even Hadrian’s Wall).

Here Cernunnos is depicted as a horned and bearded man, with torcs around his antlers. Since the torc was a symbol of Celtic royalty, we can only assume his origins are Celtic and that he has a “twice royal” countenance.

Now the reason I even researched all this was because I was planning on taking the Dedicant course that the Ár nDraíocht Féin offers (The organization that the Three Cranes are under). Part of their training requires that I choose a Hearth Culture (who your major gods will be) and I was somewhat torn between choosing. I have Irish roots, as well as French, and some German. So what I did this week was do a series of meditations before I slept to ask the god that would be my Druid teacher, to show me a sign.

I dreamed of Cernunnos…twice!

So I started to do some research and not only do I find that Cernunnos is the sculpture right below the Tarvos TriGaranus, but he was a deity worshiped by most of the North French peasantry. My great grandmother immigrated from France in the late nineteenth century. Her maiden name was Dubois, which is translated “of the woods” in French. They were from Northern France and could conceivably be descended from the Gauls. Either way, I feel like this is a perfect fit.

Right now, I’m working on some artwork to reflect this new path that I’ve chosen and I’m so excited to work out my spiritual journey in smoke, ink, and paper…

So I find myself back here in Ohio. Strangely, the transition was quite easy. We found a place to live and the last couple of weeks have been a flurry of unpacking and catching up with old friends. It’s been so good to see everyone. I’ve signed up for several art festivals coming up. I have an idea planned of making journey cards for people: small individual illustrations to help people on their path. To act as a reminder of all the amazing things we can accomplish if we put our minds to it.

I’ve also started on my book. It’s a small book of illustrations and meditations I’ve written. I’m so excited to finally get to this place where I have time to do it.

And that comes down to the reason why my husband and I left California. Honestly, it was the hardest decision we had to make, but ultimately we had to decide if living in such an amazing place was getting us any closer to our dreams. Sadly, the high cost of living and rent left us little time to work on what we really love and therein laid the problem.

So we decided that we would come back to Columbus where we could live off part-time jobs and actually live our dreams full time.

So what is my dream?

I want to write and illustrate stories…children, adult, it doesn’t matter. I just have this burning desire to draw and to write….and I’m going to do just that.

Now, will I make money off of this adventure? Maybe. Honestly, I’m not sure.

But I will be happy and I will be fulfilling a calling I’ve had since I was young. That’s all the excuse anyone needs really. There is no competition for a calling. No amount of money, exotic local, or lifestyle can really compete with that for me.

Now I embark out on this new road, I’m finding that each day, I eagerly wake up. I start the morning by praying, for I have made my art studio into a temple. I sing. I take my morning walk for inspiration and I get down to sketching every day.

Below is a sketch for a painting I’m submitting for a local opening. The god Pan is a fitting figure to work on now.

He is the lord of all woodlands, music, and adventure. His songs entice us to remember that at one time, all women used to be goddesses; that wisdom is following your nose and your heart; and that nothing stays the same no matter how hard we try to keep it that way.

The seasons always change…we might as well dance and sing them in.

As a witch and a folklorist, I’m constantly around stories of fantasy and adventure. Just the other night as I sat up with a cup of tea, recovering from a bout of illness, I read about the history of Asherah, the goddess of a Canaanite cult. They believed that Gods actually had to have a mother and she was worshipped as the benevolent mother to many of the male deities of the Sinai Peninsula: Jehovah, Baal, and Allah: they were all her sons and consorts. Even after generations of Monotheistic priests tried to burn her altars and tear down her tree groves, her banners were still found throughout all major ports and cities all over the Fertile Crescent. She was the mother of all gods, the benevolent teacher and lover of food and dance. Devotees would plant cedar groves in her honor, set around temples full of lush fruits and food for devotees to com eat, dance, and make love under the fire-lit nights. She was and is the goddess of fire and wishes and her song is the sea, rolling, echoing the very blood in our veins.

I wondered about how the priestesses of her groves dealt with the violence of unbelievers, the zealots that came, burned, and raped the temples…all in the name of what is holy.

I wondered how the goddess Asherah would feel that her son, Jehovah, the god that has become not only the main god of the Jews, but the known world now: how his believers have came, burned, and raped the temples of this world.

I cannot even imagine her sorrow.

It is said that devotees to Asherah would slowly dance through the streets and sing through conch shells, asking anyone to come dance and love with them. Her lessons were that of acceptance, simple pleasures, and the nurturing of all things that grow.

I found myself wishing that I couldn’t see the parallels in our world. I wished that I could look into the past and just see entertaining stories that are meant to delight and amuse.

Yet, here I stood, on a precipice inside because I could not deny that her story affected me, my life, and the world that I desperately try to make sense of everyday.

Yes, my story may be simple: I’m a self-taught artist who wants to find a way to live a life that’s wholesome and loving. I don’t want to chase fame or wealth. I just need enough to pay my bills and make my craft. I don’t need a desk job or a 401k. I don’t want a resume or career. I want to make things with my hands that will perhaps make someone’s day a little better. I want to write stories, even if they are pretty old and I have to patch the cracks with things I find laying around.

Why?

Well, everything else seems so futile for me.

It’s interesting; I came to California last year chasing this dream that I would become a great artist. That I would get into a stellar program and teach art and paint for the rest of my life. Yet, what I saw was so much hustle, so much hype, and none of it felt real. None of it felt magical, more like this illusion of magic.

In a way, I feel guilty that I was relieved when I lost my lucrative desk job a couple of weeks ago. (The straw that would mean both my partner and I would have to move back to Ohio.) There is a part of me that will miss this beautiful place terribly, but also I breathe a sigh of relief. I was not able to make art here…well, not the art that I would be proud of. I had spent so much energy in working to afford to live here, hustling my brand, and selling myself, that I had no energy to experiment, draw, muse, let alone breathe.

After I lost my job, I came down with this terrible case of strep, like the last of the stress leaving my body, I slept for days.

And then I woke up and started to draw.

The sketches and paintings started to flow again and every morning I woke up just to paint. Next month we will move back to Columbus, Ohio to save money. I will pick up odd jobs that can help give me time to get my artwork done. We also have a community of amazing people back there, so it’s not like we are losing anything.

In a way, I feel by failing this whole California experiment, I’ve been given so much. How could I have known this wasn’t for me if I didn’t come here and experience it?

I think about the days after the zealots burned the Asherah forests, after the temples were destroyed, and the survivors walking into the desert for safety. I imagine that in the dark of the twilight, one priestess might look up into starlit sky and start singing a lonely and thankful hymn. Soon the others would join in, there among the sand cliffs, midnight skies, and hills covered in bones. I imagine that their hearts were given new visions, new dreams. Perhaps one would dance and perceive a divine vision of their beloved Asherah.

Most of all, what we do know from antiquity, is that they moved on. They planted new groves; they harvested new crops, and there was indeed dancing again in the valley.

No dream is ever lost…it merely finds another journey.

I have three things I do when I need to figure things out; when things get a little too hectic in my life, or I cannot wrap my head around something: I make art, I write, and I do tarot. For the last fifteen or so years, those three pillars of my life have helped me get through even the darkest of days. Funny enough, but I always wished that I was one of those people who got their problems out at the gym…but that kind of life was not in the cards for me….

So recently, I’ve hit some struggles here in paradise. To some, I’m sure this is not a problem, but to me it is a very rough thing to deal with: sometimes, in a big city, there is TOO MUCH to deal with. Now for most of you, I’m sure that having too many things to do, too many distractions, too many options is a good thing. However, for someone who’s a HSP, it can be downright stultifying.

Now I knew I probably had some misconceptions about California, before I came here; like the fact that I thought everyone here was concerned about sustainable living and that there would be green spaces everywhere…not only was I wrong, I’m learning that the mystique of California living, that image we see of doe-eyed mountain and see folk having a week to spend wandering the coast is not only unrealistic, it’s practically a fantasy.

I’ve never seen so many people work so hard.

Which, coming from the Midwest, the cultural bastion of hard-working ethics and “stick-to-it-ness” is saying something.

Not only is the cost of living high here; the rent is so expensive,, but the food, the entertainment, the “lifestyle” is also very costly as well. Most people, I’ve found, pull two jobs if they are single or if they have kids. Most employers take advantage of this fact, as well: they get starry eyed graduates with stellar degrees and a mountain of debt who are willing to do anything for a paycheck. Sadly, I think the companies take advantage of that fact.

One of the most amazing things here, that I’ve seen is that there is a whole new generation that is rising up against this tidal pull who are creating jobs for themselves. Many leave here to start jobs in places where the cost of living isn’t so high. Many check out and head to the mountains to live off the earth. Either way, I feel like there is an illusion hanging over the San Francisco Bay and like any great mystery, I’m trying to figure it out….albeit in verse, paint, or fortune.

This last week I attended this amazing group of Tarot readers….a sort of tarot speed dating marathon – where we got to test our mettle as readers and break out of our usual routines. For me, the 8 of wands came up often. It was my obstacle and my salvation. My goal – the ten of disks: wealth, career, an established life. All the things I wanted to create when I came out here. So the crux of it is that I am distracted by too much to do, too many things to delve into.

After a long day at work yesterday, I pulled out the cards again and I learned that the only way I will make sense of all of this is that I hone and cultivate my skills of discerning. Also, that I stick right now with my three pillars: Writing, art, tarot…and I thought of this interview with this artist I had read about who moved from LA to Alaska and he said that he found he needs a boring life in order to make good art.

I don’t know, yet if boring is in the cards for me, but I think simplifying things might help me a lot. Below, I’ve attached a piece I recently finished. It’s a new medium for me, called encaustic painting. I call it “covering everything with wax!!” The process is slow and calming. You have to wait while the wax warms, while the layers dry, while the painting transforms in front of you. It’s worth the wait, though, because every piece I’ve made has this amazing spiritual quality to it, that I cannot put my finger on it.

The piece below is from my studies of sycamore bark. Little ink sketches of their forms.

The dawn is coming now and it’s time for me to start a new day. Valentine’s Day, in fact.

My wish is that all of us take enough time that we need to work out the calm in our lives. To have some moments of stillness and peace.

For surely that is needed in our world that is full of so much distraction.

Many blessings to you all.

Sometimes I feel like I am failing. No matter what I do, no matter how much I achieve, I feel as if I’m trying to fit my unusual shaped body into “Normal”. While I know all beginnings can be fraught with disappointment, I have come to the profound realization that no matter where I go, no matter what situation I find myself, I am not always honest.

Let’s face it. We all want to be loved and accepted. We all want to be admired.

While I know that sometimes it is an acceptable consequence of social behavior, I wonder how much I am sacrificing in order to be “liked”.

Case in point: I have found another Paolo Coelho book about a brave prostitute and a cowardly artist. How funny he should put those two archetypes together! One sells her body, but the other…he sells the expression of his soul. One cannot remember how to love, and the other cannot remember how to express his body.

I sometimes wonder if most of us fall into that category: lost and unsure of where to go. Perhaps all of us are like that, just trying to tell ourselves that our lives are right where they should be, that we are “doing the right thing”.

But what if there is no right thing? What if all we have is right now; the right now that you find yourself bored to death at work; the right now where you are dissatisfied with your friends; the right now where you might be temporarily happy; the right now that your waiting for something to happen…some change to come.

The Tara is a bodhisattva manifestation of the feminine aspect of Buddha. She comes in many colors and the Red Tara stands for the manifestation of passion. I had no idea when I made this painting how much it would affect me…but what I’ve come to realize is that I often feel that I have so much amazingness inside my bones, but it seems, no where to put it… Yes, I might create, yes, I might write, but there is always a part of me held back.

Honestly, I long to create a work or to find a medium where I can be truly nakedly, unashamedly myself. Like Anthony Robbins says, “I challenge you to make your life a masterpiece”; I wonder if achieving a truly honest life means that you just live it one moment at a time, not arguing with what isn’t or what should be.

I sit here tonight, full of questions about what on earth I should do with myself, and the painting of the Red Tara just sits here looking at me. Perhaps it is my moment to just be still and thankful that I do have passions; that I do want to express myself.

Yes, I envy those inspirational souls that seem to glide elegantly through life, without a care in the world, but honestly, I wouldn’t be clumsy, passionate, doubtful, conflicted me…and isn’t that what this life is all about???

Having the guts to live it as myself?.

I was so pleased to finally have worked out a new technique last night, I’ve been trying and failing at several different ways to combine oils and graphite, my two big loves, on canvas. The big problem was that I was thinking canvas… I tried several different versions of different types of oil mediums and each time the graphite just didn’t want to stay on the oil. I was also having problems getting tone variation.

Then, about a week ago, I just happened to be doodling on some old paper that had oil on it and I found that the graphite worked great….so I got some Arches watercolor paper (the really absorbent stuff) and I painted a background with no medium. (there may have been some Liquin in there since it was the scrap oils from another painting, but there was a minimal amount of medium)

I did only two thin layers and I could tell the oils sunk right into the paper, and about two days later, it was ready for me to start drawing.

I sketched a rabbit since I’ve been thinking about Fiver from Watership Down lately. He went on a leap of faith, too, and in the moments that I feel like I might be foolosh for trying to move out here and be a professional artist, I think of Fiver and then somehow my problems don’t seem as bad.

How fitting that he should be my mascot for making a leap into the unknown!

FIVER

Last weekend was my first showing here in Oakland. It was a holiday Mix and Match show, just small pieces from all of the artists at Hive. I showed three new pieces, all images from my new microscope. For these three, I ended up going with a more realistic rendering of the forms, and while it was fun to spend my nights starting into microscope, I felt the images were a little flat.

That said, it was an invaluable experience learning how to come up with pieces at the last minute (I finished all three in one week!). Some of the mistakes I made were not giving myself enough time between layers, as well as not enough time to sketch different ideas for the paintings themselves. In a way, I felt like I was back in my college days throwing together a last minute essay and in the end, knowing it was passable, but not really my best work.

This is what I Learned from my mistakes:

#1 You cannot paint quality very fast unless you have a consistent practice.

My art teacher back in Ohio once said that an artist is very much like an athlete. That our skills atrophy if not used and you cannot expect to pull out stellar work quickly if you are not having a consistent practice. Since I basically took the last three months off of sketching and painting while I was planning our move out here, my skills had somewhat atrophied and I found it very challenging to even paint in a straight line. That said, this experience really reiterated to me that I should have a consistent and steady practice of sketching and painting. I’m thinking that even if I do one hour a day, I should be able to retain my skills well.

Starting tomorrow, I’m going to wake up and get my one hour of sketching in a day. When I was working, I was able to split it between one half hour before work and one half hour during lunch or in the evening. I also need to be painting on a consistent basis, so I’m going to schedule at least three sessions a week in my studio, which leads me to another lesson I learned.

#2 Never forget the power of networking and asking for what you need.

I’ve found that, personally, I get very stressed if I’m either spending too much money or not getting any in. Recently, I realized that we spent a little too much on our move out here and since I haven’t found a job yet, was considering getting rid of my studio last week. I was quite devastated in realizing that I might not be able to afford the one thing I moved out here to do. In a stroke of amazing luck, I talked to my landlord about subletting and I put an ad out a couple days ago to share my studio space. As of yet, I haven’t heard from anyone, but I’m sure I could find someone to rent the space with me. $175 a month is much more affordable than $350 a month. In fact, at $175 I would have rent for the next six months set up.

Since I will be sharing my space I figured I would spend half of my week working at home and the other half in the studio. After an afternoon of dumpster diving (information I would never have come across had I not been at the right place), I ended up finding not only a better drafting table than I had, but a nice chair. Now I’m equipped with tables at home and at my studio…I have no excuse not to be doing art at any given time!!

#3 Don’t give up.

I’m realizing that being an artist is a lot like being an entrepreneur. It takes a lot of work on the sidelines: marketing your shows, getting into galleries, creating products to sell, plus making your work. It’s not an easy occupation. In fact, I would say I’ve probably made less than $100 in the last 5 years working as an artist. Why do it? Why on earth would I paint and spend all my time and money pursuing a career that pays basically nothing?

Honestly, I can’t tell you. What I can tell you is that art is all I think about. When I see something beautiful, when I feel something powerful, I want to paint it. I would like to think that one day, someone might see my work and be inspired by my message, that they might think about how this world is so full of wondrous marvels all around us. Perhaps art for me is a spiritual pursuit. So if that’s the case, why would I ever stop?

For all you dreamers out there: You know who you are: the ones with the seemingly crazy dreams. Don’t give up. All we have is this moment to share and to be our truly unique selves. Why give that up for what some would call “a sure deal”.

By all means, find a way to pay the bills…but never forget who you are, what you love, and those wonderful dreams that make you the unique and beautiful person that you are.

I fell off the goal train this last month. I had gotten somewhat discouraged by some rough luck that I encountered here. I had thought that I would have found a job by now and as I quickly saw my savings dwindle, I was getting somewhat discouraged about paying for studio space. It wasn’t until I stopped and centered myself that I got some handle on things.

I ended up visiting a local Dharma center here in Oakland called The East Bay Meditation Center. As I sat there, trying like mad to quiet the voices in my head, I realized how much I was addicted to this notion that if something was easy…if everything falls into place, then it’s what I should be doing.

But that isn’t true, is it?

Looking back, I realized there were many times in my life that I was faced with setbacks from achieving some goal. Life isn’t easy. It’s isn’t necessarily hard either, but I think that when we try something; when strike out and do something that we’ve never done before, we will come up against problems that we have no idea how to solve.

So what do I do?

Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t think that there is one answer, we all have our own ways of approaching problems, but what I did find out is that I cannot solve anything unless I come to some sort of peace with who I am. Sadly, most of us are all taught that our worth is based upon others thinking we are worthy, but that’s not true is it? If you take away every person who criticized you, who didn’t believe in you, who told you that you should do such and such, would you feel worthless?

No. In fact, I think the very fact that people try to push others to do what they think is right, is the very seed of worthlessness.

I firmly believe that all of us know who we are and what we want to do, it’s just that those urges often compete with the fact that we want to feel worthy to others.

What I’ve found is that stepping back, meditation, and practicing the Buddhist principles of mindfulness has helped me tremendously in getting some sense of space from this conflict. Funny enough, the lesson last week at the meditation center was to learn how to cultivate a sense of gratitude, even in chaotic situations.

A perfect example was when I first moved here, last month, I came down with a nasty case of the flu. It was annoying enough that, out of curiosity, I went online and looked up the cellular structure of influenza and was shocked at how beautiful the cellular forms were.

I ended up making a quick painting based upon the forms and in some way felt this strange sense of gratitude for getting ill. I would have never made this painting had I not been incredibly frustrated by my body and been thinking about the virus.

The thing is that all of us stumble across obstacles to our goals and dreams every day. Sometimes those obstacles are minor irritations like a bad case of the flu, maybe it’s that someone you depended on is no longer there to support you, or the money you thought was there, no longer is. Sometimes the obstacle is humiliating, even debilitating; but that doesn’t mean you’re doing the wrong thing. In fact, one day in the future, you might be able to be incredibly grateful for the hardship that you now face.

The boxes have been packed and unpacked. Nights were spent sleeping on the floor; explaining to cats things they don’t understand (why does this air smell so strange?), my feet sore from wandering streets, learning new names and sounds. In the space of two weeks, I have transported my whole world across this continent. At times, I feel as if I had just jumped and the whole world revolved under me while I was sleeping…now I wake a stranger in a strange land.

I live in Oakland: a place where winter never touches; where the ocean sings songs in the key of gulls and construction cranes.

For the first time in my life, I’m jumping into the tides of uncertainty. Tomorrow I will move into my art studio with Hive, a local art community here. I have signed away most of my savings to be here and for the one chance to be changed by a place, to gain insight into the person I am, and perhaps glimpse a vision of the woman I will be.

Before I left, I happened to come across a book by Paulo Coelho called The Alchemist and that little tome kept me company as I wandered these strange streets, looking for a place to paint, and even now as I look for a job.

“And, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.”

My mission is simple: I’m going to try and be an artist. I’m going to learn how to bring my whole self into my artwork, melding spirit with form. I’m going to study a little with some of the great illustrators here.

Sometimes I feel quite terrified at what I’ve done, at all this money I’ve spent. Yet other times I know that in order to achieve great things I must break outside my comfort zone. Columbus, Ohio was my comfort zone. That city nurtured me. I knew her streets well and I have many who love me there…I have moments, when I just want to run back home…but then I know I can always visit, and there are lovely beds and warm arms to greet me if I ever choose to visit.

For now, I’m here.

For now, the whole world beckons me and I cannot wait to venture out and see what marvels there may be in store for me.