Toasting those dancing plants and pets

If It Is Not Too Dark

Go for a walk, if it is not too dark.

Get some fresh air, try to smile.

Say something kind

To a safe-looking stranger, if one happens by.

Always exercise your heart's knowing.

You might as well attempt something real

Along this path:

Take your spouse or lover into your arms

The way you did when you first met.

Let tenderness pour from your eyes

The way the Sun gazes warmly on the earth.

Play a game with some children.

Extend yourself to a friend.

Sing a few ribald songs to your pets and plants --

Why not let them get drunk and wild!

Let's toast

Every rung we've climbed on Evolution's ladder.

Whisper, "I love you! I love you!"

To the whole mad world.

Let's stop reading about God--

We will never understand Him.

Jump to your feet, wave your fists,

Threaten and warn the whole Universe

That your heart can no longer live

Without real love!

~ Hafiz

(I Heard God Laughing: Poems Of Hope And Joy

Renderings of Hafiz by Daniel Ladinsky)

Sukkah life

 I have copied and posted the following article from Union for Reform Judaism for my reference/archive for future writing and artwork that I will do. I have much first-hand experience in living within a sukkah and with great faith and trust that I am always Divinely supported. We all are.

"During the days of Sukkot, tabernacles, our tradition calls us to leave the security and comfort of our homes and to live in transitional and fragile huts in memory of the journey of the Israelites through the Sinai desert on their way to the Promised Land. The sukkah is an intriguing symbol of faith; as we sit in the sukkah, with only leaves for a roof, exposed to the wind, the rain and the cold, we become aware of our fragility in the face of the forces of nature and our dependence on it."

* * *

The Sukkah: An Intriguing symbol of Faith
By Yehudit Werchow
 Discuss on Our Blog

“You shall live in booths seven days; all citizens of Israel shall live in booths, in order that future generations may know that I made the Israelite people live in booths when I brought them out of the land of Egypt, I the Lord your God”. (Leviticus 23:42-43)

During the days of Sukkot, tabernacles, our tradition calls us to leave the security and comfort of our homes and to live in transitional and fragile huts in memory of the journey of the Israelites through the Sinai desert on their way to the Promised Land.

The sukkah is an intriguing symbol of faith; as we sit in the sukkah, with only leaves for a roof, exposed to the wind, the rain and the cold, we become aware of our fragility in the face of the forces of nature and our dependence on it. Sukkot also symbolizes the moment in the agricultural year cycle when we celebrate and enjoy the fruits of our summer’s hard labor. Enjoying the fruits of our hard labor is a gratifying experience. Our society today is not primarily agricultural but we can still relate to these ideas metaphorically and drew some relevant insights for our times. This fascinating juxtaposition between feeling empowered and vulnerable creates a healthy tension that protects us from vanity and teaches us a lesson in modesty. It can also teach us how to be good hosts. While guests are an important part of the Jewish home all year round, they are even more so during Sukkot. We are commanded to celebrate with the members of our community and especially with those who are more vulnerable and deprived. Once the comfort of sitting in the sukkah is challenged by the weather, hosts become aware of their own vulnerability and the differences between hosts and guests blur. These insights are subtle reminders that the ties that could unite us are stronger and richer that the conditions that differentiate us from each other. We should cherish this message by creating together opportunities for genuine encounters. One of the rituals of Sukkot that originated from the Zohar is to host in our sukkah the ushpizin. The ushpizin (“guests”) are seven symbolic guests who come to visit us in the sukkah, one for each of the seven days of the festival: Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, Aaron, Joseph, and King David. These symbolic guests enrich our sukkah with the presence of the Jewish tradition. The presence of the symbolic and human guests in our sukkah is a vivid testament to the power of the human spirit to survive - even thrive - in the midst of uncertainty. When the Israelites traveled in the desert God protected them and “made the Israelite people live in booth”. With every gust that we welcome in our sukkah we reenact this episode thus fulfilling our Jewish calling.

“A Jewish man remembers the Sukkah in his grandfather's home.
And the Sukkah remembers for him
The wandering in the desert that remembers
The grace of youth and the Tablets of the Ten Commandments
And the gold of the Golden Calf and the thirst and the hunger
That remember Egypt.”

(“The Jews” by Yehuda Amicahi)

Sukkot is also a reminder of the journey of the Israelites through the Sinai desert on their way to the Promised Land. The sukkah is a transitional home, and as such it reminds us of our journey, its experiences, its challenges and its accomplishment, and above all its destination. How present is Israel in our experience during Sukkot?

The journey to Israel has been a spiral journey for many Jews; and with every visit we deepen our connection to Israel and its people. Like the Israelites during their journey, we experience moments of strong connection to and yearning for Israel and at times we have doubts and feel perplexed. But we know that we should always be on this journey to Israel. As Yehuda Amichai reminds us in his poem, Sukkot is also a moment of revisiting our history as individuals, allowing the history of our family to resonate with us. Through these memories and experiences, we strengthen the connections between the People of Israel, God and Israel.

Yehudit Werchow is the Central Shlicha of the Union for Reform Judaism and a student in the Israel Rabbinic Program of Hebrew Union College.

Wonderful and full of wonder

More views of Amitabha Stupa in Sedona as seen by my eyes-heart-mind. It's a fragrant location with the scent of juniper and pine, warm desert air, and the embrace of the red rocks. There are prickly pear and yellow mesquite beans, too!

Amitabha Stupa

Two new paintings of expansion and light:

I enjoyed painting these at the beautiful site of the Amitabha Stupa in Sedona.

Little yellow flowers

I enjoy taking the time to look at flowers. Looking deeply requires stopping and slowing down. When I slow down, I can enjoy anything from a still place in my heart and my heart opens up to the world all around me. Most of all, stopping and slowing down allows me to be in touch with the most essential 'form' of my/our being: Breath. Breath gives me/us life.

As I bicycled back from the Grand Canyon, I was wanting to stay very present, very aware, very safe as I rode. So, to help me stay focused and present, I sang these words: "stay with your heart". The words arose in me and I played with the sounds until it felt right. At first I said, "stay with THE heart", but it felt a little off. When I substituted "YOUR" for "the", it felt perfect.

* The photo is of little yellow flowers at the South Rim of the Grand Canyon

Tree of Life

I took a lot of photos at the Grand Canyon and this is one of my favorites. I like the shimmer and shine of this pine and it is near where I met Tasha, a sweet American Eskimo-Border Collie dog, and her lovely human, Annie. I was walking along the rim trail looking for just the right spot to spread Yuki's remaining ashes. I had him in a little baggy in my shorts pocket. Now he's part of the vast Canyon. Very thankful for the presence of Tasha and Annie for the kisses and petting I was able to give Tasha and the wide open understanding smile and conversation that Annie gifted me when I burst into tears upon seeing Tasha. Tasha is a blend of American Eskimo and Border Collie. She looks a lot like Yuki, who was an American Eskimo dog. They both looked easily and deeply into my eyes, and me theirs.

I am opening like this flower. We all are, petal by petal, in a blossoming symphony.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Breathing in, Breathing out,

Breathing in, Breathing out,

I am blooming as a flower,

I am fresh as the dew.

I am solid as a mountain,

I am firm as the earth,

I am free."

"Breathing in, Breathing out,

Breathing in, Breathing out,

I am water reflecting

What is real, what is true.

And I feel there is a space 

Deep inside of me,

I am free, I am free, I am free."

(A sweet gatha/song from the Plum Village Song Book - Thich Nhat Hanh Sangha)

Celebrating, I am, this wonderful place to write

I have a fortuitous history of having learned from brilliant teachers, both so-called spiritual ones and academic ones. And sometimes, the two have come together in a teacher and not just two things but a multiplicity of things, the things that make us multi-faceted beings. Things like creativity and patience, kindness and flexibility, all combined with great humour and unique presence. What prompted these words is a remembrance of my Hindu Literature teacher at University of Arizona (where I studied East Asian Studies and received a Bachelor of Arts in Japanese Thought and Religion). Dr. Chandola brought Hindu Literature to life with stories he told from the Mahabharata and the Ramayana, the Upanishads, Kalidasa's MeghaDhutam (or Cloud Dancer), and with illustrations from the Theory of Rasa-Bhava and Shakuntala. All this came to me in a flash just now. Mostly, I was thinking of a single sentence Dr. Chandola had spoken to illustrate the need for settledness for the arts in civilization to flourish, for the cultivation of the thing we call the arts. 

I have been living in many places since February of 2009. I have been able to create art consistently as I travel; I sell and trade my paintings for fresh organic produce at farmers' markets and for the US and Japanese currency that I have needed to use for buying other things (while travelling in the U.S. and in Japan). Along the way, I have taken to heart the saying written on the back of our paper money: "In God We Trust", and I do. In these last six months, especially, I have experienced that I am always in the right place at the right time (as I have always been), that my home is in my heart, and that I take each step confidently, knowing that I am wholly supported and loved. 

Presently, I am enjoying a friend's home where I have a place to write and use a computer. As I travel, I have been able to use the public and university library system to connect to the internet and to share my art. My own laptop "crashed" in December just after I wrote about wishing for a break from the internet and from all the complexities of the electronics and social media that I was living with and using. Yet another example to be careful and caring with the thoughts I cultivate! Tomorrow, I plan to ride to the Grand Canyon from Flagstaff. I will go on my touring bicycle, Seedling, the Kona Ute. It is another step for me toward expansiveness, into the unknown, following my heart, and knowing I am home.

Simultaneously, I am feeling, conjuring, visualizing, and creating ~ with heart ~ images and sensations of the perfect home for me in which to cultivate the art, writing, creativity, and, beauty that flows out of me. From me to you, for all, for the unique expression that comes through me as me and that benefits the world.

In the meantime, thank you, for this place to write!

Reverberations of Love: What Turtle Told Me

Several years ago, when I was teaching pots for tots, we were making turtles, one of my favorite projects. I had been taking the colorfully glazed turtles out of the kiln when a forest green turtle leapt onto my back. She tapped me on my shoulder and said, "Nicole, I would like to tell you a story that my grandmother told me. Do you have time right now to listen?" "Yes," I said, "I have a few minutes before the tots come."

The following story is what she told me, to the best of my recollection: 

"Once upon a time in a very ancient valley surrounded by jagged high mountains, there lived an order of turtles. The turtles were known to all far and wide as the guard turtles. The guard turtles offered protection to the villages and monasteries, day and night. From birth, each guard turtle received training in recognizing, playing with, and controlling the life energy that moves within us and animates us all. The ultimate aim of such training was to become a clear channel and transmitter of love vibrations."

"These love vibrations are also known as Life Force, Loving-Kindness - metta, prana, and qi, etc. The guard turtles spent their days sending out metta in circles around the walls of the monastery and village. When a "stranger" approached, even if the stranger's intent was to harm (which the turtles could sense), the guards increased their flow of loving vibrations. Without taking up weapons in defense, the turtles focused on greeting the heart of the stranger with Love. These strong metta vibrations had the effect of causing the stranger with unwholesome intent to flee."

As turtle finished the story, I heard the door of the studio open and with it an influx of bubbly young energies. I thanked turtle and turning to go, asked if that was all she wanted to tell me. 

"There is one more thing," she continued. "Please listen closely." I nodded. 

"We can effect weather patterns and Earth energies with our practice of sending out Loving-Kindness." 

 "Remember, the Earth is a living being and the manipulation of Life Energies is vital." "What we do to another, whether s/he is a plant, an animal, space, the ground we walk on, a human, or a fish in the sea, etcetera, we do to ourselves; our every thought, deed, word, and action will cause reverberations." "Let's love everything; it is time."

"Yes," I said, glancing up at the clock, "It is time - and, I need to go! Bye, now, Turtle, and Thank You!"

I could hear laughing and little voices coming from the studio as I carried in a tray of shiny glazed turtles.

Wild thing, you make my heart sing

I am listening to Bach's Concerto for Oboe d'Amore. A cool breeze is balancing out the heat emitted from the desk lamp above the keyboard where I write this entry. I've been reading through my blog these past couple of nights and, I must say, I have been delighted and moved by my own writing. I laugh, cry, and feel my heart inflate like a feathery bird's chest plumps out in the winter cold. It was Yuki and Jesse that made my heart plump up like that (and little Bodhi) and these words I had written about them produce the same sensation. Yukester, Jesster... I wonder what I will call my new animals when they come to me? I know they will find me when all the conditions are sufficient; things always work out that way. 

Here's a Concerto for Pyrrhuloxia d'Amore. It, too, expands my heart.

** Pyrrhuloxia (desert cardinal), seen at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum in Tucson 

Thistles and volcanic earth under my feet

I went for a short walk this evening, walking up the road on a hill of volcanic earth. All day, the clouds filtered the Sun and droplets of rain fell upon the ground. I'd look out every now and then to check the moisture content in the darker wet color of earth and to observe the big sky full of grey and white clouds. The Peaks are still familiar to me; they are my friends, though we have both changed some in the intervening 30-odd years since I've lived here and walked through her tinkling Aspen groves. 

A clump of thistles caught my eye as I walked back to the house where I am staying; each periwinkle thistle head was illuminated and glowing with the yellow-white radiance of sunset light. I don't know what moved me to tears as I sensed the thistles and light... I do know that I laughed just seconds later and that I allowed a memory of Yuki walking with me to fill my heart to near bursting -- Yuki, sniffing everything as we meander together in the last rays of light. There we were, crunching pebbles and red dust under paw and rubber flip-flop, past prickly pear and mesquite, past slender palo verde, vibrantly green, dodging miniature teradactyls in the now cooler night air. Jesse would have been waiting for us inside; our silky black kitty with her pointy black ears attuned to our approaching footsteps.

I welcomed myself home to a home I am visiting for a short while and glanced up to the Peaks all aglow with orange light. I decide I want to write something in my blog. Something. This. The thistles. The light. The light in my heart, and that I am never alone. My favorite response on my bicycle trip to people who ask, "Are you alone?" is "no, I am never alone." And this is true.

A Day of Silence

© Nicole Raisin Stern

Watercolor and fountain pen ink on handmade Sri Lankan paper.

Hafiz poem translated by Daniel Ladinsky (I Heard God Laughing)

Milagro tea

Awoke to the magic of wondering, "what miracles will happen today?" These words, mixed with excitement stirred ... and went into a juicer with watermelon rinds and romaine lettuce to became my morning elixir. I breathed in - more excitement - and out - joyous calm. Swallowing more enthusiasm, I went out walking with a canine companion when two coyote friends trot by and check us out. Canine companion's ears point up to the cloudy sky. A quail family skits into the underbrush, to the shaded grove of safety that prickly pear and palo verde branches make. Baby desert hare stops in its tracks, lizard scurries behind mica-embedded rock, mourning doves coo, "hoo-hoo-hoo-hooo" and I am plucking tunas, those deep red, purple-y fruits of the prickly pear, with metal tongs, which I plop one by one into a sack. I make a tea of this and call it "milagro tea", a local blend of all that is in my path and breathing me today, in this precious moment, this infusion of Beloved elements we call life. Come, share this tea, there's an abundant supply, and miracles abound.

DoG KnOws

Each morning and evening, and whenever I can, I take off my sandals and walk upon the earth. I feel refreshed with the softness of green touching the soles of my feet. There is a small area of grass near where I am staying in the desert where I can do this. Maggie, the dog who I am caring for and walking, enjoys chewing on the grasses, too; in fact, she insists on taking us there. Dog knows. God knows.

100 teapots Set 6

I started my 6th set of "100 Teapots". Here are the first two in the new set.

 Teapot no. 2 (502) ~ Tea with the Daibutsu in Kamakura. Colored pencil on paper.

Teapot no. 1 (501) ~ Yuki, Jesse, and Bodhi Tea Party. Colored pencil on paper.

Teapot no. 1 (501) ~ Yuki, Jesse, and Bodhi Tea Party

© Nicole Raisin Stern

Colored pencil on paper.

~ The adventure continues ~

Teapot no. 500 and a couple others...

Teapot no. 100 ~ Butterfly & Rosemary ~ no. 500 in my 5th set of "100 Teapots"

Elephant & Mouse Tea Party ~ Teapot no. 96 (496)

Teapot no. 95 (495) ~ Jesse & Yuki Tea Party

 Teapot no. 90 (490) ~ Yuki Watches Jesse & Bodhi Jumping On The Trampoline

See the entire collection of 500 teapots

teapots from Set 5

Happy Year of the Rabbit (and Cat)

© Nicole Raisin Stern

Teapot no. 79 (479) of my 5th set of "100 Teapots"

Cut paper and glue.

** I put the cat in because I read that it is the Year of the Cat in the Vietnamese calendar (and because Jesse hopped into the picture)**

Chúc mừng năm mới! Happy New Year! This February 3rd marks the beginning of the Vietnamese Lunar Year, Tết, the Year of the Cat =^.^=

and the Chinese New Year, the Year of the Rabbit

Teapot no. 67 (467)

© Nicole Raisin Stern

teapot no. 67 (467) ~ tea with Elephant and friends from my 5th set of "100 Teapots"

Cut paper and glue with my hand-carved seal.



detail of teapot no. 67 (467):


and a photo with the tea host/model: