November 22, 2016 – Nourishing others – and a recipe

Listen to this post:

I spent my birthday at the end of November in 2005, on the first day of a 10-month-long leadership program. It was a great way to celebrate being another year older, as by the next birthday, I became a very different person. CTI Leadership has brought me forth more than any other experience in my life. As part of the program, we stayed in a residential retreat center in Sebastopol, for four week-long retreats. There we were fed scrumptious and healthy meals by the retreat center staff. Cathryn Couch is one of the chefs, who prepared these meals for us. Over the course of the program, she and I discovered an overlap in things we cared deeply about – an appreciation of food and its place in our lives, and its connection to our relationship with our bodies, our planet and with each other.

Part way through the program, the two of us began meeting to explore what we might create together. In June of 2006, we led a weekend retreat that was the fruit of that exploration. We called it, “The Delicious Journey” – an invitation to re-frame our relationships with food and our bodies. Cathryn is a powerful person. I was a teeny bit intimidated and a whole lot honored, that she saw value in partnering with me – as I had just barely begun to see my leadership capacities, and was not yet realizing that I could have impact. It was a wonderful experience – both what we created with the women who participated – and for me as a budding leader. It was our intention to offer the Delicious Journey again, but life had other plans for us. Early the following year, I committed to showing my art in Marin Open Studios for the first time, propelling me on this odyssey as an artist and teacher.

At the very same time Cathryn was asked by a friend to teach her teenage daughter to cook, which began an even more epic odyssey for her life. They prepared meals for 3 families with illness — one a family of 4 where the mom had stage four metastasized breast cancer. The next spring Cathryn started a one-day a week volunteer project in a local church kitchen, preparing meals for 4 families with 6 teenagers.  What began as a few people cooking in a local church kitchen has grown to touch thousands of lives, provide tens of thousands of meals, cooked by teen chefs for people who are suffering from life-threatening diseases – many of them with cancer.

The organization that their efforts grew into, is called the Ceres Community Project. (Ceres is the Roman goddess of agriculture, grain crops, fertility and motherly love.) The thing that is so special about Ceres is, that the benefits are multi-layered and have a lasting impact. Not only are people who are sick – and their entire families – fed nutritious meals – for free – but teenagers are learning about healthy cooking, and eating and stepping into leadership. Their lives are oriented towards service, through the experience of making a tangible difference in others’ lives. Then there is the transformational power of belonging – for all involved.

Ceres now has locations in Marin and Santa Rosa, as well as a half-acre garden – also operated by teens – who are learning how to grow food too. Communities from across the country have asked for guidance, to set up programs in their communities, resulting in seven affiliates and four Ceres-inspired organizations across the US – so far. The latest big news, is that Cathryn has just been named a CNN hero! The video CNN produced is just beautiful and so worth a few minutes of your time.

It has been an enormous privilege to have witnessed the growing of this organization, this movement and the evolution of my friend over the past decade. It’s taken tremendous faith, hard work and commitment on the parts of the many people involved. And the results have been extraordinary. We all want to know that our lives matter, that what we do makes a contribution. There’s no doubt that my friend Cathryn is that contribution – but in addition, Ceres has created the opportunity for many others to experience this too.

There are many worthy organizations, who ask for our financial support. Often I feel obligated to contribute, but Ceres is different. Not only do I know its founder personally, and appreciate greatly the impact they have in all the ways they do, but I am moved by what they do at the most basic level: they feed people beautifully prepared food to heal their bodies and spirits. This is an incredibly intimate thing. The message in the food they provide is: here, we made this for you, so you can heal and so you know you are not alone. I am so grateful Ceres exists – supporting it makes me happy!

The up-ending of things for many of us in the world in the past two weeks, has inspired a wave of contributions to organizations, whose work is based in care for each other and the world. This is one of the beneficial side effects, of what has been a difficult turn of events. Today I’m sending my support off in an envelope to Ceres. And I’m going out on a limb, to ask if you’d be willing to take a look – see what Ceres does – and see if their mission is something you might be moved to support too. I’d so appreciate it.

This is the week here in the US, when we gather to feast and offer our thanks, for all the ways in which we are blessed. I am grateful for so much. One of them is having access to plenty of wholesome food, to nourish my body and the bodies of those I love. I am also grateful for people in my life, mostly my dad, mom and grandmothers, who have taught me how to prepare it well. Food is meant to bring us pleasure, in addition to nutrients.

Below is a recipe from Cathryn. We served it at the Delicious Journey retreat. It’s meant to be eaten mindfully, enjoying all the different flavors and textures. It would be a great way to use leftover turkey.

Wishing you a Happy Thanksgiving.

With my love,

Cara

Sex on a Plate

Please make this salad! Make it for a lover or for a friend. Make it for a party or just make it to eat all by yourself. Can something this good really be this easy? – Cathryn

• 3/4 lb. smoked chicken or turkey, shredded or cut in strips
• 1 mango, peeled and cut in wedges
• 1 avocado, peeled and cut in wedges
• 1/2 English cucumber, seeded and cut in ½ moons
• 1/4 red bell pepper, thinly sliced
• 1 carrot, peeled, cut in half lengthwise and thinly sliced on the diagonal
• 1 stalk celery thinly sliced on the diagonal
• 3 radishes, very thinly sliced
• 1/4 – 1/2 c. toasted cashews
• 1/2 c. cilantro leaves
• 1/3 c. apple cider vinegar
• 2 t. minced fresh ginger
• 1 t. Dijon mustard
• 1/4 c. honey
• 1/3 c. canola oil
• 2 t. curry powder
• 1/8 t. cinnamon
• 1/8 t. ground cloves
• 1/2 t. salt
• 1/2 t. pepper

Directions:

Whisk together apple cider through salt and pepper and set aside. Place smoked chicken through cilantro leaves in a large bowl and toss with the dressing. Serve immediately and be prepared for moans of delight!

November 15, 2016 – Dancing in the dark

Listen to this post:

It’s a whole new world. Last week I wrote about how much we wanted the election to be over. Now for many it feels like the nightmare has just started. The world is a swirl of emotion, much of it being intensely expressed. So much has been written in the past week, that I’m faced this morning with the question: what is there for me to say – what is mine to add to it all? I’ve read plenty and the responses by Richard Rohr, Cynthia Bourgeault and Jonathan Fields, are those that I find the most resonant and helpful – in case you are still looking for wise words. But what I want to say feels more personal.

Early last Wednesday, just after midnight, my head on the pillow with sleep not anywhere close to coming (and it didn’t all night), I felt something within me rising in the dark – the dark of the room and the dark inside me. “We must PAINT ON!” I got up and brought my laptop back to bed, and wrote an email to the artists in our community – those who come to paint regularly at 537 Magnolia in Larkspur. I had the distinct intuition that the turn of events last Tuesday, was a catalyst – to re-commit to bringing what matters to us – light, loveliness, reverence – into the world around us. I spent Wednesday attempting to sort out what the deeper message was, how to understand it in a larger context. Where was the toe hold to lift us towards some positive gain? Then on Thursday, I woke with my heart feeling like it gained 50 pounds. I heard Simon and Garfunkel’s “The Sound of Silence” driving in for the Thursday group and tears streamed down. The voice in my head said these are dark days for the feminine – not just for girls and women, for females, but for the energy and expression in all humans that is feminine: gentleness, care for each other, the capacity to receive – to listen.

Then by the wonders of perfect timing I had signed up for a retreat day on Sunday, called “The Heroine’s Quest,” about re-membering the feminine into the world. I learned how much of the story of women, of the feminine, has been one of being literally and figuratively dis-membered. We have re-membered ourselves over and over and over and OVER again – across all of time. So we are again now. I learned of a three part initiation into transformation that starts with lamentation – grieving for all the pain of the world; sacred tears, crying on behalf o those who cannot access theirs. The next step is dancing – dancing in the dark specifically. We dance with our bodies, with our brushes, with our musical instruments – we make beauty in the face of the demon, that would destroy us. Then comes transfiguration: water into wine. We take the mundane, the ordinary, and exalt it to the ecstatic. Which ends us up in another dimension altogether.

I learned that during the Crusades in Europe, when the biggest, most powerful institution – the Church – was brutalizing, cutting people to pieces, it was also the time when two shining examples of the feminine arose – light in the dark. One was the life of St. Francis of Assisi. He turned away from the structures of the church. He saw the church as all of God’s creation. He held sacred: the sun and the moon, the stars, the earth and her creatures. Franciscan spirituality is newly important in our world today – with the first pope, to take his name and preach love and care for those who need it most – including our planet.

It was also during this dark time that the final Cathedral in Chartres, France was built: Notre Dame de Chartres. There are many churches given the name Notre Dame in France – but this one was dedicated to the feminine – there are no noblemen, no kings or bishops buried within it. Before the workers started each day they gathered together in prayer, so they would have peace in their hearts, before they put their energies into building the structure.

Notre Dame de Chartres also has a labyrinth, that has been replicated all over the world. I learned that the labyrinth – a symbol of the twisting turns our journeys take – is associated with Ariadne in Greek mythology. Ariadne is also associated with dancing. The details of the myths are intricate and involved, and I don’t recall anything close to all that I heard, but I left the day knowing that we are in a cycle that has been repeated many times over in human history. No matter how many times it has been tried, the feminine is inextinguishable.

In the early hours of last Wednesday, I wrote that every dark time in my life has eventually revealed itself to be meaningful and purposeful. In time, I found those foot holds that took me on to a dimension that was unimaginable from where I stood before the dark took me over. For all of you who have a favorite painting of mine – Paris Roses, Twin Dahlias, Mid-Summer Zin, Blush, Douce, Firelight, Hallelujah, Eternal – know that none of these paintings would have come through me had I not been put between rocks and hard places by life. Had I not wanted children of my own so much, and had been denied them – both, I’d not be living this life.

I hold that this time has us all between a rock and hard place. The invitation is to go deep – into the dark – to weep if there are tears in us – then to find the gift in there and dance it – so we can bring it back transformed. I’m listening very closely to my intuition – for the messages that it might have for me – this is how the feminine speaks to us. We don’t know yet where this will lead us. But it is catalyzing something for us – individually and collectively.

In the meantime, I’m finding the place between reverence and irreverence that feels the most right. Reverence is needed even more this week than last. At the same time, I refuse to revere all the ugliness – my heart is broken that manipulation, bigotry and hate have won the day. But there would have been many others who would have felt angry and betrayed, had the results gone the other way. There was no real winning here. I didn’t wish upon myself to be a childless woman, and I don’t wish this division and derision upon any of us. But it is here now. And the opportunity is to use its transformational power.

And in the meantime, I continue to paint color and light, and to hold the space for those who come to paint on Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays. We start with paint, paper and water and with our brushes, bring forth new life – these paintings that have energies of their own. You are welcome to come join us if your intuition says that watercolor paintings are in you, and that learning the skills to bring them out now, is what’s needed. In any case, surround yourself with whatever might bring you back to hope, whatever reminds you of what is real, and what you will stand strong for in the coming days, weeks and months.

Thank you for reading – now especially – there is so much that is being put out to take in – I’m grateful you made space for me today.

With my love,

Cara

November 8, 2016 – What the world needs now

Listen to this post:

You’d have to have been on a sojourn to some other part of the Universe, to not feel the tension, and have experienced the negativity of this election season in the United States. It has to be the thing most people can agree upon – that we cannot wait for this to be over. It will be – today. But we have the opportunity to choose not just who will be our next president, and those who will hold other offices, we also can choose how we will go forward – whether we live in fear and dread, or will have faith in the future and in the goodness of people, who are our fellow citizens. Regardless of how many of us wish, that everyone who doesn’t think like we do would ex-patriate – we are the United States of America – an amazingly diverse country that has – for 240 years – held us together as Americans. We are not the same country, unless it includes all of us.

It’s said, that we live in post-modern times. I’m not a social scientist and am not well versed, on exactly what is post-modernism. But a cursory look into the definition, added to the experience of living in our culture, and what I see is that, as I heard our president say last night, we live in cynical times. Being cynical is wrapped up as smart, informed, prudent, realistic. You see it on both sides, especially at the extremes. But no one is immune. And I can see why – cynicism is useful; it is a really good protector. It keeps us from having to realize, that we actually do care – and even more, how much we care. Because caring exposes us, it’s risky as hell. Cynicism shows up in comments on posts and in tweets and cable TV news shows. It is dismissive, objectifying, emasculating, de-humanizing, polarizing, disconnecting. It is a really effective tool of the shadow.

A post about the need to resurrect reverence, has been brewing in me for a while now and this seems like the right time for it. I looked up this word too. Its definition is pretty straightforward: reverence simply means deep respect. It doesn’t necessarily mean being religious, as in worshiping or idolizing – nor does it in any way, require that we set aside what matters to us. It means finding within us, a genuine positive regard for someone or something else. I think we do have the choice – to be cynical or to have reverence – about a person, a group of people, the political process or our country – we can even have reverence for a situation. I also know that regardless of our capacity to do this, being human means, that there are always times when our instincts take us over and we protect ourselves. We can come back, though. In fact “seeing again”, is the root of the word respect – literally, to take another look.

• Reverence gives us the capacity to experience beauty. When we have deep respect for something, we see its beauty. And we cannot see beauty without it.
• Reverence requires connection – it’s impossible to have appreciation for something we are disconnected to or not connected to on some level, at least.
• Reverence requires conscious awareness – we must be present, truly awake, in order to see what is really there.
• Reverence requires us to have an open and receptive mind and heart. If we are affixed to seeing things one way, our way, the view is clouded by what we believe, by our own agenda and pre-conceived notions.
• Reverence asks us to be willing to be changed. We can’t have reverence for something, unless we let it touch us – and this will change us.

When I look around, I see so many opportunities for reverence to be conjured up. I know I can have a whole lot more of it for myself – especially my body and, say its need for water. When I look at the list that I wrote above, I see the opportunity for reverence to be the antidote. When what I see is ugliness, when I feel disconnected, when I have fallen asleep in my life, when I am closed and rigid, I can choose to find something about what is to respect and appreciate.

And like anything, it is a practice. In an argument with Joe a few months ago, I found myself saying to him – in a really upset voice – that I’d never loved him more, and I was so incredibly angry at him – at the same time. This hasn’t always been the case – mostly when I’ve been angry with him, I’ve had zero access to the part of me that appreciates and respects him. This is how I experience transformation in my life.

It was inspired by something I heard Alison Armstrong say. When she and her husband – or anyone else she is in partnership with – “blow up the laboratory” (in other words, get in a big conflict) – it is her commitment to stay with it, teasing out the understanding behind it, until she’s so fully on the other side of it, that she’s reaped the benefits of the upset and is glad that it happened. She said, her prayer was to be willing to have him break her heart over and over again. She just wasn’t willing to have it be for the same thing more than once. To do this requires real reverence – for her husband or partner, for herself and for their relationship.

Life in Full Color is reverence to me. It is exactly why and what I paint; it is exactly my intention when I lead my watercolor groups. It’s not edgy. It’s not very cool. But it’s what I’m here to do and who I’m here to be. Painting gives us an opportunity, for us to make real our experiences of reverence. And then it expands into the world. We see something as beautiful, we capture it and bring it to life anew in a painting; all the while we are seeing it again and again, as we find its shapes and colors. This then brings greater appreciation for it – more reverence. The resulting painting is a reflection of our reverence, which then others can see, thereby receiving the transmission of appreciation and beauty.

I know we cannot have a steady diet of only reverence – it’s sort of nauseating – even to me – to think about a life with too much of it. Irreverence, disconnection, discord have their place too, otherwise we are all in one gooey soup of connectedness. But the reason we all want this election over, is that there’s been too much of the latter and not enough of the former. Something else I’ve learned from wise ones in my life, is that whatever we feel is lacking we need to bring. If I’m feeling like I’m not being appreciated, if I then bring appreciation, all of a sudden, I’m experiencing it coming to me. It’s like magic.

Those of us who paint, who have a creative practice of some sort, have a way to easily bring reverence. We do our art. If you don’t, I’m certain there is a way that connects you to beauty and appreciation, for what is. If you are a voting US citizen and you’ve not already done so, please vote today – voting shows our reverence for our form of government. And for all of us, today and as we go forward, please find a way to bring more reverence. Our world is waiting for it.

With my love,

Cara

November 1, 2016 – Touched by the Sun – on permission and risk

Listen to this post:

These past few weeks, I’ve been asked to take a closer – and more gutsy – look at my work and the impact that it has. The effect is that I’m suffering a big attack of “just who do you think you are?” These attacks, if they are severe enough, are pretty paralyzing. There is a part of me today, that is refusing to “go there.” I’m not writing about my own visual voice – that still seems out of reach from where I sit right now. There’s an internal shift to make, in order for that part to loosen its grip on me, so that I can.

In an exercise in Julia Cameron’s follow-on book to “The Artist’s Way”, called “The Vein of Gold,” she asks us to name five favorite movies – and then to look at the themes among them. Two of mine are, “My Fair Lady” and “Dangerous Beauty.” The themes that thread through the films on my list, have to do with the feminine and the masculine, power, privilege and freedom. Seems I’m working out how to reconcile these two energies within myself – and well into mid-life, I’m still sorting it out for myself. I’m guessing that on some level, this is a life-long endeavor. The question that came to me over the weekend (to which I do not yet have an answer), is how do I live with sovereignty/strength/confidence, and still be feminine? I wasn’t raised with this modeled for me – and looking around, there isn’t much of it in our world now. I have a sense of how this might look intellectually, but down in my bones, it’s illusive. And, to go there, feels really risky.

“Touched by the Sun” is a Carly Simon song, that has become somewhat of an anthem, for this life of mine. I’ve listened to it, singing my heart out, at times when I was taking a big step – or wanting to – like when I was driving on the way to my new little house in San Anselmo, the day I moved in – a home of my own, as a newly single woman. She wrote the song in 1994 for her friend, Jackie Onassis, who had died that year and it came into my life, when I left my first marriage and was sorting out what life on my own might be. I listened to it sometimes so loud, it drowned out my own voice, screaming the lyrics out like my life depended upon it. I love this song!

As I headed out on my hike yesterday with Bo, I my energy was low. I felt troubled, at odds and a bit lost. I had my phone with me and had the thought to infuse myself with something, that might help me find a way through. There it was – this song – in my iTunes. Good thing we were alone on the hill, so I could listen to it playing out loud as I huffed up the fire road. I needed to hear and sing these lyrics:

If you want to be brave
And reach for the top of the sky
And the farthest point on the horizon
Do you know who you’ll meet there
Great soldiers and seafarers,
Artists and dreamers
Who need to be close, close to the light

And the next verse:

But deep down inside I know
I’ve got to learn from the greats,
Earn my right to be living,
Let my wings of desire
Soar over the night
I need to let them say
“She must have been mad”

After hearing it, it wasn’t like presto-change-o, I’ve now risen above – all my questions are answered. But it did reconnect me with a part of myself – those wings of desire. When I first heard this song, I had started to paint only a little, and there was no way I could see myself as an “artist.” I had paralyzing stage fright; I would never have dreamed there was teacher or a writer in me. No one had any clue, that I had all I this to share with the world – except, I can see in retrospect – that the hidden part of me that reacted to this song so strongly, must have.

In this latest phase of self-doubt, I have more perspective than ever. I see that we live change in cycles of desiring, fearing, risking, growing and coming to a new place. Yesterday in the office, I was sharing my crisis of confidence with Carla, our bookkeeper for my husband’s business. Always so supportive and kind, she said she wished that I didn’t have to go through this. I know! Me too! And, I found myself saying to her matter-of-factly, but we must – because as the saying goes: everything we really want, is just outside our comfort zone.

I think some of us are born with the permission to swing out, to risk revealing ourselves. I’d bet that many of the people we call superstars, have this kind of permission factory installed – an innate confidence – for no good reason. Either that or their wings of desire must be gigantic! I don’t know the life story of the glass artist Dale Chihuly, but he sure has permission. When I saw his exhibition at the DeYoung in San Francisco several years ago, I was struck by the creative force, that he allows to come through him. It’s so big it takes a team of dozens of people to make it manifest. He’s just one person, just like you and like me. It seems most of us, though, have a road to travel to set our desire to create free. The only thing that I’ve known to support this, are people with whom we are safe – we provide each other with what’s needed to take flight.

The song goes: I want to be one, one who is touched by the sun. As much as belting out these lyrics puts me in touch with my desire, these words have always felt a bit helpless. There isn’t one single person on this earth, who isn’t touched by the sun. Because we are living in a physical body on this planet, we are bathed in the light of the sun, fed by the energy of the sun, warmed by the heat of the sun. It’s these words that tell of the risk: I need to be in danger of burning by fire! What is that fire? Is the fire being judged, ridiculed, criticized? Or is it as Maryanne Williamson says, we are terrified that we are powerful beyond measure?

Power is an interesting place to come to, at the end of this post. The biggest power source in our cosmic neighborhood, is our sun whose energy is freely given to all of us in equal measure (weather not withstanding). In human terms power is the capacity to act and to influence. It’s used enormously to harm, which is what I think many of us are afraid of. But it’s also used to heal and support life and further the arc of evolution. Art plays a real part in this. Look how one song has supported my evolution. Risking, giving ourselves the permission to claim our power, means painting, singing, dancing, writing, song-writing – and next week VOTING – our love. This is our voice (visual or otherwise), it is our soul on deck, it is what we are built for.

With my love,

Cara

October 25, 2016 – Your visual voice

Listen to this post:

I’ve had another morning, feeling unclear about what to write about. I’m in the midst of a big inner tussle, about my work and my art and its purpose and mine. But it’s not time yet to share it; it’s still too messy and murky. The idea came to me, to get really practical and share a tour of what is on my palette – which paints I use and why, but I was uncertain about the overall interest in that – some of you aren’t in the nitty-gritties of painting, and this could be too technical. Then I remembered a call I received a few days ago, from one of my coaching sisters (as we call each other), Maralyn. She had missed our last group call and in listening to the recording sometime afterwards, had heard me say something that she wanted to point me to. What a gift to be part of a group like this! To have someone else looking out for what’s precious in us – not just our coach Lissa, but each of us – for each other. So, thank you, Maralyn, for listening so attentively, for caring enough and for taking the time to pick up the phone and point this out to me!

So, I just went back and had another listen myself, to find out what I said. I’ve transcribed it here to share with you. The context is that Maggie, another of our sisters, had shared that she had been taking photos, of the changing landscape in New England in the autumn – a new exploration. In response to her I said this:

“About taking pictures and sharing them, I’ve come to see, in working with people in a creative process, (and we almost all start with photographs) is that our consciousness, our perspective, our filter is in everything we do, everything. And to see your filter, my vote is “yes!” If you have an inkling in you, this is God – and I’m here to support that. And what will happen, is that people will start to see you in your images. They will send you images that look – to them – like images you would have taken, and they’ll say “I thought of you when I saw this.” It’s amazing. You will have a voice, a visual voice in the world – one that will be recognizable. So, jump in – with all of you.”

What Maralyn pointed me to, specifically, is the phrase, “visual voice.” Her sense was that, it was something for me to pay attention to. In hearing what I said two weeks ago, it’s not new to me, but that it’s coming up now, seems right in line with this struggle I’m in. I am attempting to put words to what my visual voice is. It’s easier for me to see this in others work, so I thought I’d share with you the “visual voice” of some of the artists in our weekly groups.

Heather: I often have “painting envy”, when I see what Heather is working on. Her work reflects her grace and elegance – it is so clearly feminine – something I keep reminding myself – that I am too! A former professional ballet dancer, classical dance seems to appear in her art. Her colors are transparent and clear. Her backgrounds are soft washes, she’s not compelled to portray extraneous detail. Heather’s paintings remind me to surround myself with loveliness.

Win: Win’s paintings reveal to me her tenderness and strength. In her many years on the planet, life has brought much to Win: heartache and loss, as well as and joy and fulfillment. Her blues and greens are soft, not strident, they don’t insist. Win has been painting for the longest of any of us, but she questions the process as much as any of us. She remains humble in the face of the creative process we all deal with. Win paints her heart and her paintings remind me that the heart endures.

Susie: Susie loves red! And yellow. Not afraid of a challenge, Susie is an adventurer. Though she lives a pretty normal life of home and family and grandchildren, there’s something in this artwork that is coming through her that is fearless, and solid – unambiguous. Susie’s work reminds me life is to be lived!

Paulette: Paulette’s work spans from bold and earthy to a lilting grace. Not afraid to take on a challenge and always interested in a unique perspective, she has an appreciation for classical aesthetics. She shies away from intense greens, but is in love with reds of all sorts in her palette. Paulette’s paintings remind me there’s a time for both reverence and irreverence.

Marilee: The art that comes through Marilee is often filled with fun and play. She paints with a full spectrum of clear colors, that bring us alive. She can take on a subject with plenty of detail and can balance careful observation, while not suffering by laboring over her work. Marilee’s paintings remind me that life can be filled with pleasure and is meant to be enjoyed.

I’m compelled to say to the rest of you who paint with me regularly, that I’d love to go through this exercise for all of you – especially those of you who have painted enough to build up a body of work – as it seems to take that for our voice to become clear. In an effort to actually publish a post today though, I’ve “listened” to five of your voices – as a start. If you are really curious what I “hear” in your work, please ask me! I’d be happy to let you know.

At the start of the year, I was contacted by a publisher asking permission to use my work in an upcoming watercolor instruction book. The book is published and I’ve gotten myself a copy of it. It’s a beautifully produced book. I’m in great company – it’s filled with wonderful watercolor paintings. I’m happy to own and use it for my own painting process, as well as in helping others who come to paint in our groups. Looking at my art (which is on the cover as well as on six pages inside) in a book like this has increased my curiosity as to what is the book that I’d like to write – or I’m meant to write – there are so many books on supplies and technique – I just can’t see adding mine to the list. What occurs to me now is that a watercolor book I’d write would have to do with how we teach ourselves to paint and how we teach ourselves to see, really see – and that these are both in service to finding and expressing our voices – our visual voices in watercolor.

It’s a basic human need to be seen and heard, to be gotten. I believe that we also want to make a contribution to others who matter to us – and by doing so, we can realize that we are a contribution. It is my experience – in my own life – and for those who I spend a day a week with, who have devoted themselves to their painting lives – that for us, making these paintings fulfills this need. It all starts with desire. Each of us realized at one point, for the first time, that we wanted to know how to paint in watercolor. I’m pretty sure none of us knew that behind that was a voice that wanted to be heard. And it occurs to me that it’s probably better this way. The innocence of the pure and simple desire is best left to come forth in its own time and way. And if it does, when it does, it’s no less beautiful or necessary. I keep coming back to this, but there’s no better reason to prioritize our desires to create.

Let me know if there’s some way I can support yours.

With my love,

Cara

October 18, 2016 – My other dad

Listen to this post:

Joe woke me up sometime about three in the morning last Wednesday.  “Dad is gone.”  Crumpling into tears I got up to take a steamy shower to try to clear my head and chest of the congestion from this bug I’ve had – while he caffeinated himself.  Just like his dad, he can’t jump right from sound asleep to behind the wheel of a car without assistance!  We arrived sometime after 3:30 am at the Redwoods in Mill Valley.  Joe’s sister Anne was there already, keeping Mom company, while Dad’s body was still in his bed in the other room.  The end of a life had come.

Bob Greenwood was, as he called himself, my “Dad number two” and we shared a very sweet relationship.  We met under really unusual circumstances – in the out-patient surgery waiting room at Kaiser Hospital in San Rafael – without Joe there to introduce us.  I said I was Joe’s “friend.”  To Bob, and Joe’s mom Evelyn, I was someone their son had just taken to dinner for the first time less than a week earlier. I can imagine how they’d have been a bit wary of me – especially with my shoulder-length, permed-wet-look dark hair, tight jeans, ankle boots and black leather jacket – my single, city-girl look.

But we quickly won each other over.  The incredible circumstances of the beginning of my relationship with their son called for me to show up in a way that I hadn’t ever before.  After being diagnosed with lymphoma on that day I met his parents, two weeks later Joe moved into my house in San Anselmo – so he’d have someone to care for him as he underwent chemotherapy.  A couple of months later Bob sent me a note in the mail to tell me he felt like their family had been – like a TV show he watched – “touched by an angel.”   I wasn’t feeling very angel-like, I was just head-over-heels with this amazing man and I was doing all I could to help him get better. But his note touched me and showed me a whole lot about the kind of guy Bob was.

I became close – forming a unique bond with my guy’s parents when went to the San Francisco Ballet together.  We saw the entire season for several years – just the three of us.  I was still working in San Francisco, so I’d meet them after work at a restaurant near the Opera House for a bite before the performance. New to the ballet, I learned about the dancers in the company, the pieces in the repertoire that thrilled me – and not.  And I learned who these two were as people – not just in-laws at family dinners.

By the time I came into this family, both of them were retired, so I have no direct knowledge of their working lives. I’m told both were exceptional teachers.  Bob was legendary as the music teacher at Tamalpais High School for something like 40 years.  In sharing his love of music, he opened a world for the thousands of students who took his classes.  Many of them went on to successful careers as musicians – among them are some well-known names:  Bill Champlin, George Duke, Grace Slick.  In an interview of Bill Champlin I found online, he had this to say about Dad:

“So he didn’t just teach what the book told him to teach.  He teaches what the student looks like he needs to learn.  I had a natural affinity for music but he managed to get it across to where I could actually see it mathematically and it served me really well for a long time….Look at most high school choirs.  They’re really tame.  This guy took some serious chances and pulled out some really outrageous music.  You know, Stravinsky and stuff like that, things that you wouldn’t ordinarily hear in a high school choir.  He found some of the more avant-garde choral arrangers and we took a shot at it.  And there was nothing but flat nines all over the place and it was great.  He really opened our eyes to where music CAN go — not that you necessarily WANT to go there — but it showed you where you can go.”

And he was more than just a music teacher.  Posts on his Facebook page tell of how he provided support to former students who were struggling with personal problems too.  In the last weeks of his life he received many visitors – people who wanted to touch in one more time with this man who had inspired, supported, encouraged them in their lives.  The Thursday before he died, he had a visit from a man who Bob had taught in the early 50’s in his first year teaching, in Corning – a town in the Central Valley – where he taught for one year before coming home to teach at Tam.  Bob had touched this person so much that more than 60 years later, he was compelled to reconnect.  He shared on Bob’s Facebook page something Bob had said in that visit:  “He reminded me that we aren’t really teaching music–we are teaching PEOPLE, through the lovely medium of music.” As a new teacher, I’m thankful for Paul Bostwick for having relayed these words from Dad to me.

On my first date with Joe he asked me about Christmas.  What was Christmas like when I was growing up?  I didn’t realize this, but I was being interviewed!  Because Christmas is important to him – and this is because of Dad.  The stories I’ve heard reveal Dad as a magic-maker.   He decorated every room in the house for Christmas – even the bathroom!  He set up all the toys brought by Santa, staging them around the tree for his three kids to greet them on Christmas morning.  At Easter he left trails of jelly beans leading the kids outside to hunt for eggs.  Evelyn has told me that when the kids were little and they got cranky, he packed the family into the car and took them on a “trip to the Moon.”  This meant a tour around the three bridges: the Golden Gate, the Bay Bridge and the Richmond-San Rafael Bridge, with a stop at an ice cream parlor somewhere along the way.

The culture of the Greenwood family has this kind of make-believe magic in a way that mine so does not.  We Browns are pretty literal bunch.  There is a sense of play, an enchantment, a twinkly sense that life can be more than it appears, that has enhanced my life since I’ve become part of this family.  Bob brought this to his family and I have to believe that it had to have been in his teaching too.  He believed in striving for excellence, taking risks to see what might come of it.   He brought so much to many people – and in doing so he lives on in them – and in us.

He leaves behind his beloved Evie – the love of his life who he proposed to two weeks after meeting her – who he always referred to as his “dear darling wife” whenever I called there. They were married 63 years and he could not have lived the life he did without her – without the support she offered him that gave him the freedom to be who he was out in the world.  May we all be blessed with her continued good health so we can keep making family memories.

Dad, your body didn’t last you to make one more holiday season with us as we’d all hoped. But, rest assured that when we feel the magic – the tree farm, the “happy” lights, the punkin pie, the goosebumps we feel when hearing of the music of Chanticleer – we’ll know it’s you.

With all my love,

Cara

October 11, 2016 – A peek behind the curtain…

My body is working to rid itself of a virus. Instead of sleeping, my nights have been filled with coughing, making my brain not at its best in putting together words. But playing with images sounded restful – and do-able! – this morning. I’ve just finished a painting. It was a commission for someone I’d never met, working with images of his flowers growing on the east coast. Working with someone else’s photos is always a big challenge for me, to come up with something I relate to enough to paint. I thought I’d share in this painting-comes-to-be video some of the work I did in Photoshop, to come up with the composition to work from. The video does not include all the dead-ends I followed and abandoned – just the steps included in the final image. There were at least two versions that were deemed “not quite it.” And I’d almost given up on it at one point. I’m so very glad to be able to tell you the happy ending.

I did write the story of the painting yesterday, so I’m including it here. And I hope you enjoy the video.

With my love,

Cara

Flamenco – October 2016

The years that I’ve been showing this artwork have been sprinkled with moments of serendipity – moments when someone appears in my world and becomes part of it. This painting started with one of these moments. An email arrived in my inbox while we were on vacation in Tahoe in late July (2016) from someone named Charles, who lives with his wife Susan in Cambridge, MA. Their son and his family live a few minutes away from where I do. While they were out here for a visit, Charles saw my two paintings at the Marin County Fair. He took pictures of the art and of my name and then looked me up. The initial request was for information about paintings I’d already painted, which soon turned into a request to paint the hibiscus flowers that grow in their garden as a birthday gift for Susan.

These plants have been living – for 30 years (!) – in containers that are set into the spaces in the ground during the summer and brought inside for their cold, snowy winters. Sounds special enough to have their portraits painted! They wanted me to combine flowers from both varieties with plenty of leaves and some buds for interest. I gave him some pointers on how to take pictures to send me. As the photos came in via email I realized I was going to need to do some work collaging together something that would make a Life in Full Color painting.

I jumped in to Photoshop after the Sausalito Art Festival. The composition was a puzzle to sort out. I landed on the main flower right away. It was taken at that lovely three-quarter perspective. But the red flower was a challenge and piecing together the background took some doing. After two versions that weren’t quite there, I started to get worried that I was going to be able to pull this off. But the next day I was greeted by an email from Charles with more pictures – including of the troublesome red one – taken in full sun. The missing link had arrived! And I went back to work to create an image that – I was told – had “nailed it.” Whew!

Painting was uneventful (thankfully). Painting so many of these “fuzzy backgrounds” has paid off – they are becoming easier – and more fun to do. The leaves, as always, give me fits – so I get them done before the treat of painting the flower. I made a shift in the color of the flower, at their request – to match the actual flowers. In the full sun, digital cameras show things more yellow. I listen to Pandora a lot as I paint.

So many of the pieces on the “mood music” stations are pretty uninspiring, so when this lovely one, called “Tuesday’s Child” by a Canadian guitarist named Jesse Cook started playing, it caught my attention right away. I looked to see who the artist was and for the first time after just hearing something on Pandora I bought his album. It’s Nuevo Flamenco music – creative, emotive and I find myself bouncing in my seat as I listen to some of the songs. (if I painted standing, I’d be full-on dancing!). The music and these flying, swirling petals had me think of the dancers skirts and gave me an idea for its name: Flamenco.

Charles and I exchanged emails starting in July and this was our only mode of communication until the morning in October when he called to say they were on their way over. This was first time we’d heard each other’s voices. It was nice to share our home and the room that is my studio with them. Most importantly, I was happy and relieved they were pleased with the painting! We talked about the name and I played for them Jesse Cook’s vibrant, soulful music. They agreed the name fit. I’ve come to see painting a commission like this as a journey of faith – both for those who I paint for, and for me. We all take a risk – especially when we have never even spoken to each other before. It says a lot about us that there is a part of us that is willing to jump in with each other in this way. It brings a certain preciousness to our time together – when they came here to meet me, and the painting I did for them for the first time.

Thank you so much, Charles and Susan!

October 4, 2016 – Soul on Deck

Listen to this post:

My first art studio was in the back of our garage. No more painting just on the dining room table, it was time for a special place set aside, just for me to paint in. This was eleven years ago – I was working in real estate, after two decades in the corporate world. I swept away cobwebs, I bought a carpet remnant for 40 bucks. Using leftover soft yellow paint, I covered up the bare sheetrock. I wedged a piece of plywood between two storage cabinets – so that I wasn’t sitting with the looming presence of my car right there! I arranged glass votive holders each a color of the rainbow on the window ledge – which was just rough 2×4’s. I got a little space heater and the hand-me-down boom box from my father-in-law, that played only cassette tapes. I listened to three tapes over and over: Elton John – Live from Australia, George Winston – December and Francis Cabrel (a French singer) – Samedi Soir sur la Terre (Saturday Evening on Earth).

We had just turned the clocks back, so I woke early. For those last weeks of 2005, at 5 or 5:30 in the morning, I started painted in my new studio. In my slippers and heavy sweats, I went into the dark, through the backyard and the backdoor to the garage – carrying my cup of hot tea with milk. I lit the votive candles, put on the music – and for a of couple hours before going to work, I painted the one we now know, as Paris Roses. Looking at a 4”x6” photo print (my eyes were younger!), I found my way through each petal, creating the folds and edges. The voice in my head told me how awkward these shapes were – it felt clunky and forced (some things haven’t changed!) I attempted to mix the colors – what exactly is that strange, green/grey/pink and how do I make it? Shape by shape, the roses that were growing on an arbor in a rose allé in the Jardin de Plantes in Paris, revealed themselves. I wouldn’t know this for a long time still, but I was also revealing myself.

When my dad saw the finished painting, he remarked that I had arrived at a new level. He is an artist and has an artist’s soul and eye. He saw that this painting revealed something more substantial, more accomplished, more alive. Something was coming through me, for the first time that winter.

I’m working with an exceptional business coach, Lissa Boles. She’s guiding me in a process to understand what I’m up to, as I paint and as I accompany others in their creative lives. This has me looking closely at my “work” – attempting to articulate what’s here. It’s such a hard process, that it’s a challenge to even put words to the process of finding the right words to describe my work! In a coaching call last week, I said these words about the groups of artists, who have made painting once a week with each other – and with me – a regular part of their life: “I actually have something very, very real already – immense love, immense affinity, immense devotion to their art, to themselves, to me, to each other – and [what we have] is something. It’s very real and that’s my grounding. I wouldn’t be able to do this work with my art without this community.” It felt good to be this clear, about the place that my art groups have in my life. I was claiming something. To this Lissa said, that she cannot wait to hear me talk about the art that I make in the same way – as clearly and powerfully.

Lying in bed this morning, I had an inkling of what she’s talking about. I had the distinct sense of something, that I’ve been talking around for a while – that my relationship with my art, with these paintings and the force that is behind them, is as real as any relationship I can have with a living, breathing creature. This art wants to come through me and I can’t not make it. My eyes still closed, enjoying the warmth of my bed, some of things that I’ve said in posts these past months came up:

• It is why I needed to promise to paint every single day – to take it seriously and devote time to it.
• It is why I had such a strong (negative) reaction to the modern art collection at SF MOMA – art needs to reveal human soul – not just explore “ideas.”
• It is fueled by not having had kids – the instinct to procreate is our most potent – if I’m not raising children, I must do something else as significant.
• It is also why I have had to make making art central to my life – having this be a hobby wouldn’t do it.
• It is the combination of my left brain (skills and abilities) and right brain (seeing holistically) modes, and of my feminine need for beauty and my masculine drive to make it real – actually make real stuff – and take it seriously.
• It is a direct expression of my spiritual nature, my expanding consciousness – I’m compelled to illuminate myself and share it with others, this art is filled with light, yes, but also, with illumination.
• It is God made real, it is love – as expressed through me, in this life – made: real.
• It is also why I must sell it – and ask the prices I do – money is how we set value. If I value this artwork there must be an exchange of something else of value when I let it go.

The fear of being grandiose, of being presumptuous has been holding me back, from speaking about my art like this. But the fear does not keep me from seeing it this way. I do know this art is alive, it is enlivening, it heals, it inspires. Though it is not conscious or intentional as I sit and paint, the end result is that it is so. I have heard others express all of this enough to know that this is real. And to deny it, prevents this art from doing what it is here to do. It’s here to shine.

In the days following 9/11/2001, I received this in an email, written by Clarissa Pinkola Estes:

“I have heard from so many recently who are deeply and properly bewildered. They are concerned about the state of affairs in our world right now.

Yet, I urge you, ask you, gentle you, to please not spend your spirit dry by bewailing these difficult times. Especially do not lose hope. Most particularly because, the fact is, we were made for these times.

One of the most important steps you can take to help calm the storm, is to not allow yourself to be taken in a flurry of overwrought emotion or despair, thereby accidentally contributing to the swale and the swirl.

Ours is not the task of fixing the entire world at once, but of stretching out to mend the part of the world that is within our reach.

One of the most calming and powerful actions you can do to intervene in a stormy world, is to stand up and show your soul. Soul on deck shines like gold in dark times.

The light of the soul throws sparks, can send up flares, builds signal fires, causes proper matters to catch fire. To display the lantern of soul in shadowy times like these, to be fierce and to show mercy toward others, both are acts of immense bravery and greatest necessity.

When a great ship is in harbor and moored, it is safe, there can be no doubt. But that is not what great ships are built for.” And neither are we….”

The line I’ve emphasized – soul on deck shines like gold in dark times – burned into my heart and brain, when I read this 15 years ago. And I’m certain it has oriented me, emboldened me, to follow the stirrings to make this art and put it into the world. Just before I created that first studio, my friend Brenda saw me pull out several finished paintings, that were in a plastic bag under my bed. She saw the light in them. She charged me with investing the money in framing them and putting them up on the walls – to release the first tether keeping me moored. Claiming a space – my first studio – came next.

The decade+ since has had me untying, one by one, more ropes that have been holding me safe in the harbor. Yet, millions (or billions?) of people are still shrouded in darkness in our world. Our work is so far from done. The task that has taken me on to see to – the stretching out, to mend the part of the world that is within my reach – is to make this art and see it into the world. Making and showing this art is my soul on deck.

Soul on deck is supported by companionship. Your company has made this voyage possible. I am so grateful.

With my love,

Cara

September 27, 2016 – Belonging to each other – beyond right and wrong

Listen to this post:

Where we live in Marin County, California, it is a sea of blue – political blue. I don’t know the percentages, but overall, California leans towards the liberal end of the spectrum, the San Francisco Bay Area even more so, and Marin is right up there, amongst the most liberal counties in the country. Being surrounded by a large majority of people who share our views, it’s really easy to speak freely and openly – to share our reactions to what’s going on in the world, full of opinion and certainty as we do. Earlier this year, I learned that one of the regular members of one of our groups, believes differently. She is a self-described “staunch conservative.”

This is stretching me as a leader and as a person. Mostly we don’t talk politics, but there have been a couple of times, that the conversation moved into the political arena. We all stayed respectful, but I felt the tension and I knew it was upon me to hold the space, to keep it safe for everyone. I said something about how our views can be woven into deep parts of us and we may need to agree to disagree. I want our shared painting time, to be a refuge from stress as much as possible.

Then, last week, I forgot myself.  I walked into the kitchenette where my mom and another person, were quietly talking politics. Without thinking, I shared how I had emailed a friend in Britain about what might happen, if the person I oppose ends up our next president. I wasn’t mindful of the volume of my voice, I just spouted. Then I realized where I was and reminded myself who I was – the leader of this little group. Oh, gosh. I felt awful. Did she hear me from the opposite end of the room? I couldn’t risk not knowing – I had to ask. When she next asked me for help on her painting, I knelt down at her table and softly asked her: did you hear me when I was talking in the kitchen? She said she hadn’t. Oh, good.

But then I felt I needed to tell her why I asked. I told her that I was with those who share my views, and I indulged in what I called “tribal talk.” I said I was sorry and I reiterated I wanted to do all I can, to make sure she always feels safe and a sense of belonging amongst us. This started a short conversation between the two of us, about opening to those whose views we don’t share. I recently listened to a level-headed conservative person, to try to understand what is behind their stance – what values I may share that drive their views – and what I may be blind to, that is the shadow side of liberal actions and positions.

My coming clean with her was a huge relief. I did not feel judged or viewed any differently.  She graciously said that I’m only human.  And the experience was a lesson, about being in a leadership position. As casual and un-authoritative as I generally am, I feel a responsibility to conduct myself with more discipline, in what I say and how I say it – especially during our group time. I am grateful for the sense of myself, that I’ve come to at this point in my life. I trust in my own basic goodness, which gave me the courage to admit what I’d done and express my regret. The connection I felt with her was completely separate from our political views. Our views aren’t the entirety of who we are. Our views can matter greatly to us, but on another level, they are just our views. It felt open hearted – we were receptive to each other, as two women who share the love of watercolor.

I woke up today with the first sentence of this Rumi poem in my head:

Beyond our ideas of right-doing and wrong-doing,
there is a field. I’ll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase ‘each other’
doesn’t make sense any more.
There’s so much judgement and talk about what’s “right” and “wrong” in the world. I believe we do need to be engaged in our society – our common life. At the same time, I have an aversion to the polarization in it – which seems to be increasing. I can’t bear to listen to much of what is said – even by the pundits on “my side.” So much of it is inflammatory and divisive. I’ve been taking myself off email lists and being careful about what I read – and how much. It just upsets me. There are those who are called to be fighters – and to them, I say: “you go!” But go be effective – I am not interested in anyone’s rants. As for me – I’m not a good fighter. I’m so not at my best when I get riled up. I’m here to be a connector. I’m called to stay in relationship and increase my capacity to hear what’s being said – as long as it’s honest and thoughtful, and I can share too.

But what I really want to do is just make art together. If Rumi thought that the world was “too full to talk about” in the early thirteenth century, then it’s certainly so today. The purpose of our groups is to paint, to share our creative lives, encourage each other’s unfolding as artists. To do this, we need to stay connected. And in stretching ourselves as we paint on our Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays, there are plenty of “right” and “wrong” voices in our heads as it is! To some, this may appear as burying my head in the sand. But it is really not. It is a service to everyone to still the waters as much as we can. Cultivating wonder and delight is life-on-the-planet-affirming.

There are some translations of this Rumi poem, that use the word “garden” instead of the world “field.” Last Wednesday nine of us found our way to a garden – back down to Filoli down in Woodside – to see what was there in the early autumn. The parking lot was half as full as it was in April, when spring was on full display. I felt a profound peace when I walked into the garden, that was a balm to my nervous system. The espaliered apple trees that I last saw in covered in white flowers and pink buds, were filled with deep red apples. There were cabbages and peppers and bright orange zinnias. Ever my favorite, the roses were still showing off. I captured a perfect image to paint of strawberries. It was lovely to share this experience with each other.

Belonging is a human need. Nothing good happens without it. One of my most closely held beliefs, is that we all belong to each other – every single one of us – even those who don’t believe this too. “They” belong too. Really. I wonder what would happen if we were all able to live this way? It’s my hope and prayer that, though the progress is slow and imperfect, this is where we are headed.

It’s my privilege to belong to you – I so appreciate how you receive me.

With my love,

Cara

September 20, 2016 – Cooking my love – and a recipe

Listen to this post:

“Love people, cook them tasty food.” As I shared in a post about my love of cooking a couple of years ago, this is what the only bumper sticker on my car says. It’s from Penzey’s, the spice company where I order my dried herbs and spices. I so appreciate that they want to encourage cooking – the bumper sticker has no reference to them – they just want people to cook! Cooking for people, is entwined with the double-helix of my DNA. As much as painting, being an artist and accompanying other artists in their creative process is central in my life, I can cook with more skill and confidence, than I can paint. I regularly cook without referring to a recipe – I put together meals, almost without thinking. Because I’ve been cooking at least 5 days a week since I was 12 or 13, putting together food to make a meal just comes from me. I love the magic of how preparing and then heating raw ingredients in certain ways, can bring such pleasure and nourishment. There’s hardly anything more seductive than the smell of good food. Making delicious food for people is an important way that I love – and I am so grateful that I have the capacity to contribute to others in this way.

How and what we feed ourselves, is also incredibly intimate and personal. If someone criticizes what we eat, it cuts deeply; eating can make us feel very vulnerable. At the most basic level, eating provides us energy, it’s the fuel to keep our bodies going, but there’s so much more to it than taking food into our bodies. Food is connected to a whole lot of what makes us human: emotion, tradition, relationship, family, celebration, healing and enjoyment. Food changes things – imagine going to a gathering, whose main purpose is not eating – like a community meeting, a book club, a prayer group. If there is food, especially food to be shared by everyone, all of a sudden things are friendlier. Even just cheese and crackers or cookies, bring an element to a gathering that shifts things – but if the shared meal or snack is home-made, it brings even more goodness. I’m having a hard time describing the difference that food makes, but it feels primal in the way it connects us.

I was invited to show my art at an event called “Artisano”, which was all about food and wine. You’d think that this would be perfect for this art, all these yummy images I paint – I did too. But when given the choice between tasting a fig stuffed with gorgonzola, wrapped in aged prosciutto, drizzled with a balsamic reduction, or crispy, briny, spicy fresh sauerkraut, or rich and salty local artisan cheeses, or a big, fruity Cabernet or a dry, nose-prickling sparkling wine… well, my bright, life-filled, color-filled art was hardly noticed! Funny, huh? I realized that I never wanted my art to be the least sensual experience at any event again! Just hearing about food and wine as I’ve described it here gets our imagination going, doesn’t it!? It seems that taste buds take precedence over beauty!

A dear friend, one of the women in my life who has mothered me into who I am today, is having a hard time. She is handling a lot in her life at the moment and making meals at the end of her days, is the just thing that can put her over the top. I so love her – and have endless gratitude, for how she’s loved me into loving myself, I’d do anything for her. The idea came to me (taking my bumper sticker seriously), that I could cook meals for her sweetheart and her. We started last Tuesday – a good day to cook – I’m usually home painting after I’ve written to you. It felt so great to see her drive away, with the stuffed zucchini and steamed artichokes that I’d put together for them, knowing that the food I’d prepared was going to feed their bodies – and bring her ease.

I took home all the chicken bones from my family’s Sunday dinner. They are boiling on the stove with some dried jalapeno pepper bits (from Penzey’s), garlic and cilantro. It’s the broth – enriched with the minerals from the chicken bones – that will become a tortilla soup I’ll offer them for dinner. Joe is out tonight, so it will be my dinner too. I adore tortilla soup. I make mine more like a sopa de lima, without any warm chilis – no red pepper, seasoned with just spicy green pepper, plenty of cilantro and squeeze of lime juice. I adorn it with good, thick tortilla chips, avocado and shredded Jack cheese. To make it a meal and bring a bit of freshness – today is supposed to a warm one again – I put it in a big bowl and add shredded romaine lettuce and my fresh pico de gallo too.

I’ll pack all of this up for my friends this afternoon, and as I make myself a big meal-sized bowl of this soup tonight, I will be thinking of them, feeding their bodies with it too. I’ll also spend some time painting today. The commission I was working on, came together last Tuesday (phew!). I drew it Wednesday morning and have made good progress on it – the whole complex background done in one week. I can now see, that I have a chance to make the end-of-the-month deadline! There’s so much struggle and suffering in the world, I almost feel sheepish about being able to spend a day this way. It’s hard to know where to put my appreciation. What I do know, is that I will do all I can to care for those who I touch today – sharing my love in the ways that I do – painting my love – and cooking my love.

With my love for you – thank you for reading, it’s always a gift,

Cara

Fresh and Tangy Tortilla Soup

• 2 T oil or fat skimmed from the top of the homemade broth
• 1 onion, chopped
• 2-3 stalks celery, chopped
• 2-3 carrots, peeled and chopped
• 2 cloves garlic, minced (if you didn’t add to the bones when making the broth, or are using canned broth)
• 1 serrano or ½ – 1 jalapeno chili, minced (for less heat, seed it first – ditto, if you didn’t include it in the broth)
• 4 c. chicken broth, home-made if you can – if homemade, check to see if it needs salt
• 1 can garbanzo beans, drained (I sometimes use pinto or black beans – especially if the chicken bones have smoky flavors)
• 1 ear corn, kernels cut off (if you want)
• 1 medium zucchini, diced (if you want)
• ¼ c. fresh lime juice – or less – you can also offer wedges for squeezing into individual bowls
• 2 – 3 T chopped fresh cilantro
• 1 – 2 c. cooked chicken or turkey – or the chicken from the bones, if there is some
• 4 – 5 Roma tomatoes, seeded and diced – unless you have pico de gallo
• Grated jack cheese
• Avocado, diced or sliced
• 4 – 5 leaves romaine lettuce, washed and shredded
• fresh cilantro sprigs
• tortilla chips – thick chips are best, coarsely crumbled (I don’t bother to fry up the strips, even thought that’s what most recipes call for)

Directions:

Sauté onion, celery, carrot, and garlic and serrano, if not already in broth in oil or chicken fat, until soft and onion is golden. Add broth, corn and/or zucchini. Heat up and simmer 20 minutes or so – until the vegetables are soft. Add the beans, cilantro and lime juice (if you wish). Simmer 15 minutes more to meld flavors a bit. Add cooked chicken and tomatoes and cook just to heat through – tomatoes should stay fresh. Garnish bowls of soup with cheese, avocado, lettuce, chips and cilantro as you wish.