Winter Scenes, Millbrook, New York
(Click to enlarge.)
Welcome to samples of my work in various art forms showcasing “Eye-locks and Other Fearsome Things.” “Eye-locks” is a Bipolar/Asperger’s memoir in narrative form that describes the triumph of love over mental illness.
(Click to enlarge.)
The Spirit of Snow
The Spirit of snow
highlights the love of line
the loving grace of trees in winter
bare and spiritual
the horses a gift of color
in otherwise black and white
The Horrors of Horse Racing
All that you see on this video is true. This is just the tip of the iceberg. My brother worked on many racetracks, including Belmont, and he told us stories that were heartbreaking. He finally got out of the race track business because he loved horses but could not abide the cruelty of how horses were treated. The video explains…
“Talk to Me!”
What I loved about this horse is that he looks as if he is about to say, “Tell me all about it!” Actually he is a rescue that became a therapy horse at Lucky Orphans Horse Rescue in Millbrook, New York. He gives handicapped children rides and companionship so valuable to them. Like so many animals, he gives so much for mere maintenance in return. An exceptional soul.
Soulful Eyeful
It being the holidays
missing
loved ones
one of the most loved
one of the best teachers
a little dog
Ko-Ko
all innocence
all love
all pure soul
oh, to nuzzle her fur
smell her dander
feel her tongue
upon my face
and her fluffy fur
against my skin
and Dutchie
another innocent
another tactile teacher
peace personified
oh to hold her in my lap
as she sleeps
and have her total trust
lying on blue-jeaned legs
oh for a visit
from either
or another gift
from Ko-ko
who shared a vision
of the beyond
after she passed
now
no wee ones
just an ache
where love still lives
Spirits Past and the Mystical Bliss of Horses
It is almost Christmas, and my birthday, and today I cried reading an old birthday email from my sister. She signed it “Lisa the Pizza, Tony Baloney and the rest of the gang ‘up there’,” meaning my brother, and my mother and father.
“Tony Baloney” died two years and a half ago, leaving behind three adopted children whom he adored and who adored him, and a loving wife. My father and mother died 25 and 20 years ago, as impossible as that seems. Dad and Mom died this time of year. And my best friend, Wendi, died shortly after. All of cancer of some sort or the other. But they all loved horses.
We now live in Millbrook — horse country. Horse farms dot the countryside. My father and mother and Wendi would have adored it. My brother was the only one to visit Millbrook, coming with his family whom we put up at a nearby horse ranch. They all had the time of their lives. One of my fondest memories of my brother is from that visit. We are holding hands as he is relaxing after a day of riding with his kids. He is drinking and smoking (what eventually killed him) and we are taking in the sunset on the porch of the dude ranch.
I love horses, too. It is in my blood. Dad played the horses and my brother worked on several racetracks, including Belmont. Now I abhor horse-racing, finding it cruel. My brother had horror stories to tell of how the horses were drugged and run hurting. I have seen horses being put down– all for a senseless sport. Dad and I would quarrel about this if he were still alive.
I remember stroking a horse once at a show nearby and the bliss I felt was mystical in a most spiritual way. I wanted that moment to last forever. And the happiest I have ever seen my husband was on a moonlit ride we took in a canyon in Arizona on our honeymoon. Horses bring happiness. My husband knows it. Dad knew it. Tony knew it, Wendi knew it and to some extent, Mom knew it.
Too old to ride now I pet horses when I can, and admire them as we drive by horse farms. I photograph them when the spirit moves me. I ache inside for my parents who would have adored it here in our little barn. For my brother, the cowboy, as different from me as night and day, but bonded by a deep love and shared losses. For my friend, Wendi, with whom I shared a not-to-be replicated link of love. Merry Christmas, Tony Baloney, Mom, Dad, Wendi!
My blessing comes from the love I share with my husband who married me despite my mental illness. It comes, too, from our spiritual connection to nature. I admire my husband who works with society’s outcasts as a clinical social worker. My giving is on a much smaller scale– tiny things here and there– online activism and such. You play the hand you are dealt.
Christmas can be a hard time, and New Year’s, too, and I know there will be the inevitable meltdown into tears over losses of loved ones, over mortality, over our material nature. And perhaps you will also have your own moment of bleakness. But I hope that you, too, will be able to touch your bliss at Christmas and find a blossoming hope for the new year.
Blessings of joy to all!!
For the Love of a Horse
Oh to be one with you,
White-marked Third Eye,
to mount you
and ride you into forever
to nuzzle my nose
in your silky mane
to smell your hot breath
upon my face
and feel your tongue
upon my cheek
to smell the sweetness
of your leavings
and
hear your hoofs
against the road
and your snorts
as you run
*
my love for you
is from a distance
though once
we danced together
and
you nuzzled
me out of depression
and into bliss
oh how I miss
those magic moments
when we were one.
A Hug Without Arms
Do they think because
we have no arms
we do not hug?
Do they think because
we have smaller brains
we do not love?
*
We hug
neck to neck,
chest to chest,
coat to coat,
in a warm embrace
of pure love,
a love as pure
as theirs,
perhaps more so.
*
They think
we do not love
because it makes it easier
for them to drug us
for so-called sports,
for their so-called fun,
and race us past injury,
and, yes, they even kill us
for their gustatory pleasure.
*
All we want to do
is love our families
and run free.
But we are willing
to serve them
if they treat us right.
*
Now I ask you:
who here is superior?
MOONSIDE 