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art
November 2009 
MsJesus
Doug
30X40” Watercolor on Canvas
There are fences
Defining a space
A pump is in the creek
noise
And fountains of water-spray
across
Neat rows
A river watering the garden flowed from Eden
I was alone on this walk
The man said,
This is now bone of my bones
and flesh of my flesh;
she shall be called woman,
for she was taken out of man.
The man and his wife were both naked, and they felt no shame.
The road between the fields
Between the fences was lined
With wild plants of all kinds
And a tree grew there
With heavy moss
Grey-green hanging
In the sunlight
Reason and Intuition
Roles and Being
Sun and Moon
Eagle sails across the surface of a waxing moon
The cross of Peter was nailed in upside down
In the morning
A ritual fire burns in the evening
A wooden figure of a goddess with a serpent
A clay man cracks in the coals
Ashes to ashes we all fall down
The itsy bitsy spider
Goes up the spout again
Down goes the rain
And it’s green
hills
And the wind cries Mary
Into the sails
Of Sunday boats on Monterey Bay
“Are you getting up now?
it’s 7:20.”
Access: Public
Pure, unadulterated Douglass… loved the poetry, “a clay man cracks in the coals”… I sure am in the mood for a campfire!
Me too, we never did get to the bonfire on the beach part huh?
I'll dream it and you're invited K?
When in Oregon… do as the Oregonians do… get a room! It's too windy and cold no matter what time of year it is for a good bonfire party!
So I'm setting up the tent that I didn't get to use and bringing tons of fuzzy blankets to snuggle up in and the bonfire is reaching high up into the evening sky as the waves sneak quietly onto the beach… I believe a good cup of hot chocolate is in order and a plate of butter cookies to go with…
ohhh, beach party! cool… yeah, hot chocolate, butter cookies… how bout some 'smores, since we have that handy bonfire to roast the marshmallows… now, do we start telling stories?
What it is Doug…everytime I turn to your profile, I see:
paintings
most enchanting colours
spaces deep within
a vibrancy of life
exploding
etching
goosebumps
on my skin
Poetry
words woven
golden threads from
Heaven
tapestries on earth
goosebumps
on my skin
whisper neuron
words of Love.
Here's one for you: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rf-Mtd2A1DI
Lol! Yes I remember seeing Aley and others leaning into the wind walking across the tops on the sand dunes just outside the windows of Peggy’s place. That was when we all sat in the sunroom, you in your nest, me at the foot, Lisa and Sprite sitting at the table.
I don’t know…afternoon sun in a sunroom, versus bonfire on the evening beach?
Maybe both with the tent thingy and fuzzy blankets? Let’s go now!!
Hi Nicole! Yeah let’s do it. Maybe the next Gaia gathering will be on Kauai. I’ll have a little stand with a grass roof where I’ll be providing the salt rubs before the baby oil.
Hi Alluvja! Wow, TY for your lovely poem this morning. It made me feel like I was still dreaming after the 7AM alarm and that first cup.
Candy floss pink, aqua and sand, sigh, oh for summer. Summer just forgot to arrive here, I take it you still have summer over there with all this talk of beach parties and tents?
Enjoyed the poem, especially the clay man in the fire bit However I never did understand eve being taken from mans rib. The human template is female, then the extra chromasome gives man the extra bits but we all start out female.
Here the big shower in the sky just won't stop, the only reason we know we are heading into autumn is because the rain is colder and heavier and it's windier, lol, please can you send us some sun or paint us a stormy picture sheets of rain and deep dark thunder blue and that cold white glare of the sun between thin chinks in the cloud, touched with brilliant verdant green where the lack of sun has failed to bleach or turn anything to gold.
I'd have to go with Zephyr on this one, the human template being female . But aside from that i do wonder why most people refer to the second creation story instead of the first one where male and female He created them, no rib business there sir. Ah well probably to do with patriachal stuff and all that. Anyway still got goosebumps from your paintings and poetry…it must be looovvveeee…!
Hi Gael! Hi Alluvja!
I agree with both of you and that is the meaning for the fire ritual because life energy is neither male or female, it's both in some kind of cosmic dance.
When I began writing this I was reading the first chapters of Genesis and I had a vision of what life was like at the moment the words were formed. This is a creation story but the creation is that of a patriarchal based culture and of a God vision that supported that structure, not the prehistory prior to it, a prehistory that was mostly a matriarch post the hunter gatherer phase.
So yeah, I don't know about that rib business either?
It would make Eros a little too narcissistic and I would like to imagine that “she” is something completely other, something that compels me with the color of her countries; if I might borrow a little from mr ee cummings here.
TY both for your comments about the painting and poem!
- feel lifeforce flowing in it's essence as I read and look
blood and bone
sinew and braided locks
the womb-man
ahh
emerges from her fecund deeps
to swirl her waters across the moon
and splash the glowing face of the father
so glad is he that she made it
sliding through the hidden dawn
to breach all flood walls yet standing
at last, bursting forth
into his inner sanctum
where we are made welcome
and opened
and set free….
lovely, lovely work Doug
how deeply you reach
to pull this all up
from your toes… ;-)
ooooh beautiful Kauai!
how wonderful that would be - the paradise of Gaia in a tropical paradise setting!
Sigh…
Hi Hummy! It's feel so good to feel that connectness to life to be in the flow of it and allowing it to move us, move through us to each other, to all things!
Ah Mary Thank you! You know how much I love the point-counterpoint of your words bumping up against my words. You really know how to dance so lovely!
Hi Nicole! Ah yes so let's do it! I'm there! I'll be teaching basket weaving on the beach.
and i'll be the one wandering up and down the beach drinking in the sweet ocean smell and feeling the waves tickle my toes :)
Doug, I am like… well… genetically unblessed with the poetry gene.
I try and try to 'get it'. I am walking around your painting and your poetry and sort of drooling like a Neandrethal. Nothing computes.
Any yet…. I see beauty.
And I like that.
Sometimes when I read your blogs or look at your paintings I feel like a toddler plunking away at the C note on the piano, just to join in, while the Maestro (sp?) is playing Mozart. And I look up hopefully: “am I doing OK?” plunk plunk plunk.
So I will keep looking and reading and drooling and maybe someday something will compute.
In the meantime: your stuff is beautiful.
:)
Thank you Ruth and you do get it even if you think you don't. And that's it; Reason never gets it. It's like trying to compute a kiss. It would take a billion computers a billion years to compute a kiss and still no one would live long enough to hear the answer and it would take you a moment to feel it and respond to the intention, long before Reason even woke up to what happened.
You know that all the artist or poet does is invite with the work and the viewer creates the art. So keep feeling your beauty Ruth, that is your song.
I don't know about feeling my beauty Doug… all I know is that with that response from you, I feel a kiss coming on, a kiss for you
SMOOCH
SMOOH for DOUG (and I don't care who sees - teehee)
Lol! I meant
Ah Shucks (tips of ears bright red)
xoxo!
i've been by to look at your painting & read your poem several times. It still mesmerizes me, a strong synergy between the colors & the words making me ponder my roles & the being behind it all. You are a wonderful artist doug & I am grateful that you choose to share your work here for me linger at & be inspired by.
TY Tara xoxo!
I was drumming last night with three intentions, one of which was to dance with the goddess. She was beautiful! Her legs were pearl and her body was chocolate at the point of melting and when the fire danced with her she became pure liquid gold. The blue energy of flowers grew from her body as she danced me through all the places I have been, she is all the places I have been. And the eagle let go of the cliff and sailed me between the purple fog and the sea.
The flow of this Poetry and Painting cascade like a waterfall into a hidden pool and then the herald of the Lark and Juliet sighing in the morning: it is not near day...
I have enjoyed reading your writing and pondering your paintings here very much.
Blessings~
Thank you Nahnni! Juliet sighing in the morning: it is not near day… Wow I'll remember that image! On the one hand it's one I'd want to respond to and on the other, just bath in that moment. Predawn is my favorite time now!
So at that moment I hear it, move the hair gently from her face, soft kiss.. into sweet dreams again fair Juliet. Smiling at the way the moonlight dances on the chair by the window while she sleeps.