Visual Memoir

Every now and then I come across an artist’s work that exemplifies a

current mood,  state of mind, state of being.

As I begin a new writing project tomorrow on the art of personal memoir,

I am featuring the work of Nancy Macko.

Hi Daddy 2


At the Beginning



Are You Kidding
Disintegrating Memory
Hopes and Dreams
Simple Icons


Vox Anima,


Hi Daddy 3




Was I the ONLY ONE who did not know that Instagram

is a PRODUCT of Facebook?!

Since its inception, I have been skeptical about FB.  Initially, I tried it, and weird things happened, like stalking and other things… I found the whole experience to be entirely dissatisfying, complicated,  and in my introverted way, parted from the social media herd.

(Even this blog post is out of step and time with current events by two weeks.)

I am posting about this in an attempt to work through my ambivalence about social media, and Instagram in particular.

What makes IG so addictive, I think, is the immediacy of www publishing.

Literally INSTA.

Quick images and words have become a substitute for more thoughtful discourse.

(Like Blogging)

Yes, I have learned from chefs, artists, enjoyed puppy and cat videos, beauty tips,  and even connected with BodySoul friends there…

And while I admit it is fun, there is something inheritantly wrong with it.

My discomfort has to do with the fact that there really is no privacy.

And the monitoring of my behavior.

And everyone else’s.

Cambridge Analytics fell on its sword for FB.


Facebook is doing quite well, thank you!

Profits are up from last year from over 3 billion to 5 billion!

Billions of dollars.

IG  is serving the new God Image:  The Marketplace.

While I have clearly not worked through this in my own mind,

I would like to hear from you dear readers.

Your comments ARE welcome here.

I can tell you I have not agreed to IGs’ terms of use as my own way of tiny protest.

Also, my best to @yanaherbalbeautyproducts.

Vox Anima,










Art Credit:  The Posters of Scorsone and Drueding

The Girl Who Circumnavigated the World in a Dream of Her Own Making

The Girl Who Circumnavigated the World in a Dream of Her Own Making ~ Paul Bond


“Respect your dreams.

Nature doesn’t waste energy.

It’s seeking to communicate to us in some way,


if we pay attention,

may begin to heal some of the splits that we all carry.”

James Hollis, Ph.D.


Dear Readers,

A first blog post in a very long time indeed.

I have found my way back here through the help of a writing project just completed:  Birds in a Barrel,  40 days and 40 writes.

The following is from the practice of daily timed writings.  I hope this means the pump is primed!


Last night’s dreams are repeating.

Two distinct themes. When dreams repeat, either I, the dreamer am not getting the message, or the dreams are underlining something of importance.  In bold italics.

I often have collective dreams, i.e., dreams that carry outer events in the world to my psyche for reception.  My analyst once told me that when the unconscious knows it has a receiver, a listener, one can get deluged.  I do from time to time.  That’s when I signal a time out so that I can get some sleep.

But these repetitive dreams are personal.  One involves intrusions into my household; and the other the felt presence of a girl.

After spending time with the dreams and Hollis, I found an image that speaks to what I should really be paying attention to.  Paul Bond’s “The Girl Who Circumnavigated the World in a Dream of Her Own Making”.

In this magical painting, the girl is rising off the ground with a pink parasol overhead. Autumn leaves swirl and fall away from her legs.  Below, on the ground, three white rabbits. The light is surreal and misty, yet bright as she reaches for the sky.

A guiding image for this day, and this time.  Get above it. Get a broader view of what matters most.  The girl almost did not incarnate.  But with grace, she grabbed ahold. We’re almost there.


Vox Anima,





a little dream blog


An idea came today.

Presented itself to me, as I am life reviewing.

Prompted by the Dream, which is clearly handing me my hat, showing me the door.

Murad Osmann

A transition.

Another ego surrender.


Images of missing IDs, purses, wallets, and objects de art that are of significance…

…or should I say (as the dream is clearly showing) used to be of significance.


Ego surrender
Joe Turk


My dream ego protests these seeming thefts and lost artifacts.

More and more is being stripped away–the street cleaner of my psyche dozing through to an unknown location.

Today, the image came to me of a Mandala.


Turtle Woman
Marcia Snedecor

And at the center, is the Dream.

Turtle Tree Mandala
Marcia Snedecor









And, it is true, that more and more,

the Dream has taken center stage, not only in my own Psyche,

but in my work with others.

Center stage.



Tree of Life
Marcia Snedecor


There is mystery involved here, and I do not wish to trample thereon.

Catherine Nolin


to give the way of the dream its due,

 create a little dream blog;

I hope,

will facilitate the process underway.

Thank you dear reader for being my Passepartout.

Vox Anima, SDM







all other art credit:  Pinterest

A Letter from Absentia


Dea in Absentia III
Dea in Absentia III

Dear Readers,

I haven’t really been away this long, have I?

Since summer.

Oh dear.

Let us just say, “we” were preoccupied.

With the garden harvest, work life, family life, an intensive training, and current events.

Between the training and topside developments I have been in a vortex.

William Spencer
William Spencer

Trying to metabolize, comprehend, and reconcile all the energies swirling within and without.

I can honestly say, it has not been until this week that I have felt my footing, and the preoccupations subside.

I have tried a number of times to write this blog.

Any blog.

But nothing.

Until today.

A little quickening.

So here is a little something, with Love from Absentia:

Look for the beauty that is always there.

Jose Royo
Jose Royo


Vox Anima,  SDM



Don’t Talk To Crazy

“Don’t talk to crazy.” ~ Wanda Sykes


Dear reader alert:  this post is a little different than most of my musings.

This one is more along the lines of Joan Rivers’  “Can we talk?”


I never know as I begin to write a blog post where it will end up, so here goes…

In a previous post, I wrote about our home, which we lovingly refer to as The Shire.

We have put a lot of energy

into reclaiming our 30’s vintage cottage and our little acre.

About 3 years ago, or so, a new tenant moved in next door,



is a few hundred yards, or so away from our door.

It all began with pushing property boundary lines.

Spreading out wood piles on our place.

Politely, we asked tenant to remove and explained.


Soon, large accumulations of what I will call cr@p  appeared .

Tents were erected for said cr@p.

Tent City.

Soon, yard sale after yard sale after yard sale.


(I have nothing against yards sales!)

(I have had my own!)

(Yard sales can be fun!)

(Yard sales can be neighborly!)

(I even purchased a gorgeous oval mirror from one today!)

Meanwhile (and this was before the new pot laws) an outdoor plastic lined “building” with grow lights was working overtime to grow you know what.

Strange traffic coming and going, transactions going down, domestic violence, theft–you name it was right there in full view.

The Shadow on Parade.

As growing marijuana became passe’, methamphetamine was being cooked up, and a daily special on the menu.

After two years of this, I had had enough.

We filed a formal complaint with our little city.

It was a legit complaint about the yard sales.

(The rest was tricky, because, as I suspect, some in law enforcement were good customers.)

I complained, and complained.

I called PD for every “domestic” that came down.

My PD’s phone number was listed as a “favorite” on my iPhone’s contact list.


Eventually, tenant was fined for noncompliance with a city ordinance.

Tenant promptly tore up the $500 ticket in front of the police officer.

This cooled tenant’s jets–for awhile.

It’s yard sale/crazytown time again!!

Prepared from last year’s terrorism,

we formed our strategy:  Warn tenant.

Document, document, document.


During yesterday’s photo shoot, I met Crazy face to face.

If you saw what I saw, you would have seen open eyes, with nobody there.

I restated the law on Crazy’s deaf ears.

(waste of effort)

After yesterday’s “event”

 each and every time we leave our private drive way, we get the middle finger salute!


In good faith,

I left the situation reviewing what happened,

and what were MY projections, triggers, etc…

I had a bullying, abusive, drug crazed sister who took things out on me.

I had no protection.

That was then, this is now.

I will NOT be bullied!

I will NOT be afraid in my home, my sanctuary, my Shire!


That is all.

Bless you dear reader for reading this, and do let’s talk!

Vox Anima, SDM

Image Credit: Tumblr, Pinterest


On Being Human


La Casa de Maria Conference Center Grounds
La Casa de Maria Conference Center Grounds

Announcing a NEW Marion Woodman Foundation Program!

“Loving Our Brokenness:  Being Human in an Imperfect World”

July 24-29 2016

La Casa De Maria Conference Center

Santa Barbara,  California

From the Foundation sponsored flyer:

“This workshop celebrates our brokenness, imperfections, and cracks revealing that our deepest wounds can be a place where the Self is hidden.  Many women today suffer from lacerating self-criticism and isolation, and when looking for mirroring, only the coldness of perfection is reflected back…

(This has been my experience.)

Perfection always sets the bar higher than we can reach, leading to paralysis and disembodiment…

(Sound familiar anyone?)

In this workshop, we offer another, relational vision to mine the riches that lay within which have the power to crack 

(emphasis mine)

…images that belong only with the gods and goddesses.”



I hope you will join us in the dance of light at La Casa,

For more go to:

Art Credit:  Pinterest