Living life this way is a blessing

Surrender, Grace, Focus, Wonder
Living life this way is a blessing

A few years ago walking home from the beach I hear a loud voice tell me to stop, turn and look across the harbour to homes on the edge of SeasideBlogthe sea, it’s the voice of my grandmother. Demanding, firm, wise and loving, for years I listen to her council and am  comforted by her presence.
“You will live there in the end house on the point of land facing that tiny Grace islet”
A series of dreams deepens the message from grandmother as she takes me to the house and shows me living within.
Ebb TideBlogA year later I meet a woman, friend of the deceased owner of this house who asks if I want to see inside.  Lovely experiences like this often come my way.  We had just sold our small farm property and were about to leave on a two month painting retreat in France.
With Grandmothers insistence I contacted the inheritor, perhaps he would rent it to us on our return from France.
He amazingly said yes! and gave us a two year lease. We left for France, our belongings safe in our new home waiting for our occupancy on return. I begin in earnest to ask grandmother why was it so important to live in this house.

The most inspiring dreams occur.

Song Of The Universe

Celebrating a dream manifest to reality

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Dreams are the stuff of my imaginal realm
Fulfilling instructions a dream gives is sometimes difficult.

My connection to spirit fuel my paintings, they are threads that weave into the enormous web of life. Dreams speak loud. Will I fulfill the life contract I am asked to express, be the hollow reed, embrace the illumination I am gifted. Each choice matters each choice shapes the character of who I am. Each choice resonates for all to feel.jewelry7

 I merge into five days of intense hands on learning and fulfillment, making a physical manifestation of a dream that had come to me months before.

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Under the wings of a master goldsmith I fashion a brooch that represent experiences I have, dreams over the past year ask to come to life.jewelry13

My medium is usually paint on paper. But more is asked of me. I stretch my comfort to fabricate these visions and meaning into a brooch.

Martin Ebbers, a German master goldsmith with over thirty years of award winning excellence accepted me into studio. From 10- 6pm for five days he coaches me on the alchemy of molten metal.

Torch fire fuelled by my blowing I learn to recognize the exact moment to move the flame, allow the heated silver to curl and ball. Attempts, errors, over and over my torch too far, too close, not enough flame, too much. Then an ecstatic moment the heated metal became live, rolls, forms an orb. Each step in the process of creating the likeness of my dream is a labour that extracted and demanded excellence as I honed a new skill. Using a saw, its blade the width of a hair I learn to carve  silver gently into a semicircle I had previously pierced a hole in. jewelry5The tiny piece I craft is one of five delicate components that would make up the pin clasp. With crude drawing, embellished stories of my dream Martin coaches me on the possibilities of what is doable in his lifelong art. Slowly trial and error “The Song Of The Universe” brooch becomes tangible expression of the universal connection we each as humans have with the divine.Spiral6

The spiral a shape of movement reaches to touch source. Our life path, a yearning soars, comes back to itself and then reaches further. I am told our finger tips with the print of spiral on each pad is the key to our connection.Outstretched hand each finger tip pulses in resonance on the path of our life, all our lives, ever in movement. This connection, a receiver is used for millennium to heal. Reiki and TT are methods used today. Our hands emit energy that when directed, align, bring back into balance harmony our body needs. This is healing.Now Spiral

My dreams show symbols I try to decipher. Thinking messages were being given to me I try to read. Soon I learn to relax, watch what is shown me. A knowing its voice gently communicates, “you are the song of the universe”. jewelry3

 

The harmonics of celestial bodies, fabric of our existence has a sound a hum of great beauty, but, it is almost impossible for us to hear with the clutter of our lives. I am shown shapes that are exquisite!  Told to India Spiralfabricate to touch like Braille, molten metal tactile into a wearable brooch.

 I am told we each have gifts to bless gratitude for our life. With my brooch I fulfill my appreciation for these visions. My world of relying on spirit strengthen as I communicate in the tangible. For years I write my dreams, share my paintings. I research others who also express their wonder. I realize it is this reaching out with our heart and hands, touching, sharing with care, that we celebrate our humanity beyond our tiny planet for all creation, the stars, the ether, the matter of all that gifts us.

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I know we are each the song of the universe. Our music gathers and sings in ever clearer harmony as we focus on the truth of ourselves. We only have to look at our tiny finger print spiral to realize our profound connection.
MARTINUS
award winning designer and Master Goldsmith
“Song Of The New Earth” www.tomkenyon.com

France Originals – Gallery Showing April 2, 3, 4

Click to see show paintings IMG_6350

Painting in France to an art show on Salt Spring Island

“Spring in France is a wayside blossoming. The southwest a burst of viridian green meadows feed ample cows and sheep that dot this fairytale landscape. Squares of land sing as dandelions carpet landscape. Plum, cherry, pear in quick succession welcome bees as farmers prepare market gardens, help birth lambs and and put the newest foals out to pasture.IMG_5142 Every curb is array with a graduation of colour. Daffodils, tulips, irises, while colour climbs and softens stone walls drape cracks of crumbled age, now afresh with delicate wisteria. Hanging clouds of mauve foam lazily trail over trellises as we devour our lunch quiche washed down with the lightest of wines from the region. Continue reading

A Road Trip South

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Mt Shasta California

Winter 2015 the American South West calls. I search for warmth and quiet time to ponder new paintings and stories.
We allot three weeks away to drive some of the spectacular California coast between Carmel  and Santa Barbara, settle for ten days in Palm Desert for sun, swim, yoga and reading, then to slowly make our way back home to Salt Spring Island. It becomes a leisurely drive of deep conversation, spawned by thought provoking pod casts. An awesome drive for the natural beauty that evokes silence and wonder.
The Oregon countryside is green rolling lush with tucked in farms, grazing sheep and cattle. The vistas to Mount Shasta, its majesty clearly defined sends shivers of remembrances for previous dreams triggered by this energy vortex. This time is no exception as reverie swallows me, I travel into the snow capped mountain to visit the Crystal Cave with towers of milky calcite lite from an inner source. A resonance sends chills down my spine. Drip drip, liquid lime echoes past me down a black corridor. At the cave entrance Lake Shasta is many meters below. Steep sloped muddy bank meet a flattened lake a shadow of its former self. My lucid dream fades as our drive Continue reading

A Walking Meditation

IMG_0162A CURIOUS WALK, again in 2015

I walked a circumambulatory journey around my island home. A walking meditation with attention for the love I feel for Salt Spring Island and the precious Earth we inhabit.  I write about this walk in my April blog 2012. Five years hence my remembrance is curious. I had the thought that this undertaking be a grand walk the length and breadth of Salt Spring on main roads, forest pathways, coastal  beaches and through main villages. I surrender to however long it takes.  I walk an average of 2 hours each day ultimately covering over 150 kilometers. I begin each walk where I left off marking my place with prayer flags and blessing the walk with gratitude for each experience . I see this walk a pilgrimage, one of many in my life.  Curiously Continue reading

Painting where the veils are thin between imaginal and real.

Newsletter December 2014

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I am a storyteller.  From travels and dream I draw on characters that guide me to lands real and imagined.

NightCatchBlogMy north light studio cantilevers over Ganges Harbour.  New HarbourClipTwoBlogThe  bay is a constant thrill of bobbing boats, sea planes coming and going, fishermen hauling crab nets as gulls swirl, dive and play in the fragrance of briny morsels.  Today the water is a platinum jiggling jelly.
Last night the sea an awareness……New HarbourClipONEblog
The wind howls and slaps waves against the rocky shore below.  A star filled heavens blink, nod and carry me to DreamTime of other velvet nights pricked with thousands of stars.  I lean over boat rail to view a mirrored reflection of the cosmos a swirl of effervesce illuminates the aqua radiance.  Bear comes to me.MoonLightFishingBlog
I have received many bear gifts, stone carvings, a bear claw, a deer skin drum with a beautiful painted bear gifted by a shamanic healer who led me on several sweat lodges.  Rereading  journals  I discover my drawings of bear and writings of Continue reading

Toujour Amour

France a love affair of countless journeys over decades I  surrender to its warm embrace and paint from my heart. A year lived  in Provence.  A walk on a 1,000 year old pilgrimage path in Languedoc.  Sojourn by aqua Mediterranean to experience colour through the eyes of Chagall, and Renoir.  “Toujour Amour” is a love of everyday France. The swoon of castle tops on The Dordogne,  or a sip of wine under a gnarled olive tree.
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These newest paintings are experiences, whispered secrets in fifteenth century stone hamlets it’s slate roof tops glint in evening luminescence. Stone homes burnished, ages worn brightened in each season.  Iris, wisteria, rose, a moving tapestry of life lived to fullest.

Time lost in Fairytale hamlets and deep in prehistoric caves awakens as I stir pigment and water.  My imaginings energize on canvas.  I surrender, to the breath of ancient, myth, magic.  I vision a story, a design of simplistic line, movement of multilayered beasts rendered by 14,000 year old artists on the  walls of Lascaux.

I ask what is it that calls to be painted then feel the cord of creativity, a soul lust urges me to express and sing my experience.  Energy bubbles and yearns to be repeated through the filters of my perception, this France is a toujour amour.