It's moving time peeps! I have loved it here at Blogger. I adore all the beautiful pictures I can put behind my posts but what I don't love is that there are no filter settings here and anything I say can, will and has been used against me by the people I didn't think were going to see it.
So I'm moving over to LiveJournal, where mostly everything will be public just like it has been. But, if you want to keep closer tabs on the Deva and what is actually going on behind the scenes and between the vague and veiled lines, you can create an account, become my friend and get the whole scoop. That blog is called It's All Red and the public page can be found here.
Life happens in the transitions...so here we go!
In Grace,
Kell
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Saturday, October 8, 2011
The funny thing about asking for a Grace storm is that it doesn't generally look like you think it's going to. You can claim, pray, beg and intend Grace but what you don't realize is that Grace knows better than you do what is really best. Ramakrishna said "The winds of Grace are always blowing, but you have to raise the sail." So you raise the sail and find yourself enduring gale force winds in the middle of a shit hurricane.
My mom always said, "This is building character." and "It'll get worse before it gets better." I think that was her way of saying it's all Red. It's all getting you where you're going. And you'll be better off when you get there.
The past 48 hours have been the hardest of my entire life I think. The good thing is that words flowed out of me onto paper, the paint flowed fluently from my brushes. Why is it that creativity comes out of me when I am hurting more easily than when I'm happy? Maybe I've got it backward, maybe the hurt comes because the creativity has built up inside and not been outlet. Maybe it pushes itself out in a cathartic way because I tend to ignore my need for it when there are other pleasant distractions going on.
Here's the deal sweethearts: I must apply myself with utmost consistency and discipline to getting on with life. This is going to take hard work and fortitude and a deep connection to the voice of my soul. I think the only way I'm going to make it through is paradoxically to apply myself just as hard to the art. I must paint and write and craft and sing and dance even when I am not inspired to. Especially when I am not inspired to.
I thought I would share what came out of me today:
She flew. Rising higher and higher like she had in so many childhood nightmares.
The tethers that had bound her to the ground trailed behind her, their bloody roots glistening.
She had not known freedom would feel like this. Like tumbling ever onward into clouds filled with thunderous tears.
There was no stopping the onward rush into terror. And yet, there was a pause underneath the rush of wind in her ears. And behind the crash of lightening ahead. She heard it.
Ka-thump. pause pause pause. Ka-thump. pause pause pause. Ka-thump Ka-thump
She was afraid. Ka-thump. She was lonely. Ka-thump. She was out of control. Ka-thump. She was lost. Ka-thump. She was so very sad. Ka-thump Ka-thump.
And on into the darkness Ka-thump she tumbled Ka-thump falling ever upward Ka-thump into the unknown Ka-thump. There was no rhyme Ka-thump no path to follow Ka-thump no knowing what lay at the end of the rainy cold freefall Ka-thump Ka-thump Ka-thump
There was Ka-thump only the soft Ka-thump quiet beating Ka-thump of her warm Ka-thump, living, Ka-thump glowing, Ka-thump Red Ka-thump heart.
It's all Red sweethearts....everything.
In Grace,
Kell
My mom always said, "This is building character." and "It'll get worse before it gets better." I think that was her way of saying it's all Red. It's all getting you where you're going. And you'll be better off when you get there.
The past 48 hours have been the hardest of my entire life I think. The good thing is that words flowed out of me onto paper, the paint flowed fluently from my brushes. Why is it that creativity comes out of me when I am hurting more easily than when I'm happy? Maybe I've got it backward, maybe the hurt comes because the creativity has built up inside and not been outlet. Maybe it pushes itself out in a cathartic way because I tend to ignore my need for it when there are other pleasant distractions going on.
Here's the deal sweethearts: I must apply myself with utmost consistency and discipline to getting on with life. This is going to take hard work and fortitude and a deep connection to the voice of my soul. I think the only way I'm going to make it through is paradoxically to apply myself just as hard to the art. I must paint and write and craft and sing and dance even when I am not inspired to. Especially when I am not inspired to.
I thought I would share what came out of me today:
She flew. Rising higher and higher like she had in so many childhood nightmares.
The tethers that had bound her to the ground trailed behind her, their bloody roots glistening.
She had not known freedom would feel like this. Like tumbling ever onward into clouds filled with thunderous tears.
There was no stopping the onward rush into terror. And yet, there was a pause underneath the rush of wind in her ears. And behind the crash of lightening ahead. She heard it.
Ka-thump. pause pause pause. Ka-thump. pause pause pause. Ka-thump Ka-thump
She was afraid. Ka-thump. She was lonely. Ka-thump. She was out of control. Ka-thump. She was lost. Ka-thump. She was so very sad. Ka-thump Ka-thump.
And on into the darkness Ka-thump she tumbled Ka-thump falling ever upward Ka-thump into the unknown Ka-thump. There was no rhyme Ka-thump no path to follow Ka-thump no knowing what lay at the end of the rainy cold freefall Ka-thump Ka-thump Ka-thump
There was Ka-thump only the soft Ka-thump quiet beating Ka-thump of her warm Ka-thump, living, Ka-thump glowing, Ka-thump Red Ka-thump heart.
It's all Red sweethearts....everything.
In Grace,
Kell
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