You would be my loon
calling long past light,
my mourning dove, my
sweetest finch flashing
sun from black as night.
If my bird you were I’d
feed you nectar from my
palm and plant thick trees
for you to rest and nest until
I could transform my arms
and hands to feathered limbs—
our hearts remade as song.
Thank you to the editors of The Tishman Review for first publishing this poem.
Anything or anyone that does not bring you alive is too small for you.
David Whyte, The House of Belonging
Upon commitment, the Universe conspires to exist; who are you not to shine…be brilliant!
Marianne Williamson on Nelson Mandala
(Elizabeth used slender magazine strips to create the yogi, light and shadow.)
There is something terribly radical about believing that one’s own experience and images are important enough to speak about, much less to write about and to perform.
(Close up of Elizabeth’s charcoal Self Portrait.)
Feelings are the language of our soul.
We write books to change the world; you read them to imagine a change.
How can taking a knee engender more anger than taking a life?
…originality, in art as in science, consists in a shift of attention to aspects of reality previously ignored, discovering hidden connections, seeing familiar objects or events in a new light.
(Made by Elizabeth with the wrap from a bag of lemons and a medical lab’s purple and red tape, which is topped with a wine bottle’s metal cork protector.)
There will never be
but there can be
more love than
before we got here
and more peace
we stayed here.
David Richo, Everyday Commitments
(Elizabeth creates 3-D art and photographs with eggshells because their fragility and strength parallel the human condition.)
The secret to change is to focus all of your energy, not on fighting the old, but on building the new.