Category Archives: Art of the Path

En Pointe!

I have no conscious memory as a ballerina in a past life. But the dream of dancing en pointe showed me that I knew how to do it. Whether or not my physical brain remembered, there was a memory in my light body. Perhaps a cellular memory of another time, another place. Continue reading

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My Country Estate Across the Street

I’ve always known Prospect Park was a public park, and while I’ve been grateful to live so close by, I have felt its limitations as well as my own limitations in not being able to walk somewhere different for a change. Just for a change… Then this strange thing happened last night…and I was the one who changed… Continue reading

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Art and Alignment

Art, when we give ourselves over to it, has the power to bring us into alignment with our spirit or soul. It’s important to notice what music you feel drawn to, what pictures, and ask yourself why—not just because you like it—but why do you like it? There’s always a reason why, because our soul calls to us in different ways and on different levels. Continue reading

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Being Brooklyn Rainbow

What happened next was something many of us dreamers have to go through, which is attuning ourselves to the world we live in, and being able to manage, while not losing sight of the world we dream of—like the rainbow light. Which is really a higher vibration, a higher frequency. But I found I was able to keep the connection going through art, through painting and drawing. Continue reading

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When I Wasn’t A Writer

…they stood before the door and wondered what to do. Should they knock? What if somebody answered? What should they do then? Or maybe the door wasn’t locked… Should they try the doorknob? What if it opened? What should they do then? Continue reading

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Brooklyn Rainbow

A poet friend once called me an
“Over-the-Rainbow-Survivor.”
Now, while it was true I had the ring to prove it, I didn’t understand the full meaning of that phrase until later.
Not until today, actually, when I looked again at the pastel painting I did over the weekend of a rainbow intersecting the Brooklyn Bridge, its light shimmering on the water. Continue reading

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Flowering Through the Mists of Time

I remembered the title as The Yellow Primrose, and forty years later, when I began writing about the past, I tried to find the book again. Continue reading

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