Tag Archives: the nancy who drew

Womb of a Woom for Writing

Allow me to introduce another sort of www—no dot about it—this room is a womb for writing. It’s like a womb, obviously because of the creative factor. The incubation and gestation process. A work of love that grows page by page, not in darkness (though the lights are low, and at times a candle is lit), but privately, hidden from view and unseen by others, except maybe for the occasional excerpt, the sneak preview which might be likened to a sonogram. Continue reading

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The Cabin in the Clearing

Whenever I looked out the window I saw two scenes, the one from the present, and this other one, so obviously from the past. From Brooklyn as it once was. Continue reading

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The Thing Is To Draw…

Who the figure was doesn’t matter. She was, and is, Ma, Mary, Mater. Mamm and Ama, Muder and Moeder, Mati and Moer, Madre and Mai and Mama. And in Vietnamese, she is called Me. But what’s in a name… The thing is to draw. To paint. To feel. And to paint and draw what you feel. In the moment. Expressing what you cannot say in words… Continue reading

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Art, Arms and Tree Branches

Next to Kali, we mortals with only two arms must appear as truncated as the tree on my block with most of its branches lopped off. Continue reading

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Flowing Fences

I used to walk along looking at people and objects and things, noticing them, studying them, whereas now I am conscious of energy. Everything I see is an example of an energy flow. Continue reading

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Exquisite Longing

An attachment I’m not yet willing to let go of. Because it inspires me. Continue reading

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Healing Past Life Memory

Carol Lamb on past life memories: “It’s the healing that proves the story; an exchange of energy occurs in the process, but there has to be a letting go.” Continue reading

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