Category Archives: Goddess Emergence Project

Feb2

Kuan Yin

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Kuan Yin

Open your heart as Kuan Yin opens Her arms to embrace you. Listen to her wisdom that she shares, not with words but by Her example and through Her love. All is possible.

There are several stories about Kuan Yin. In one, she decides to become a nun as opposed to agreeing to an arranged marriage. Her father, after failing to dissuade her from this life, has her put to death. Because of her kindness she was made into a Goddess and began her journey to heaven. However she felt such compassion for those left on earth, she chose to remain until she could ease all suffering. In another story, it was a supernatural tiger that took Kuan Yin to one of the realms of hell after her father put her to death. However, instead of being tortured, she played music and flowers bloomed all around her thereby turning hell into a paradise. It is said that one way that she eased the suffering of poverty by giving the Oolong tea plant to a poor farmer in China. Because of this gift, his entire village was able to escape destitution.

Often in life we can feel, like Kuan Yin, as if we are caught in a type of hell. We find ourselves in hells of depression, fear, sadness, distress, or illness. Although everyone moves through these emotions during various times in our lives, our hell, our suffering, is created when we find ourselves stuck there, unable to leave. Kuan Yin teaches us compassion, not only for others but, most important, compassion for ourselves. She grants us mercy and allows us to forgive. What she shows us is that who we are and who we can become can change the world around us, simply by our being. She teaches us that as opposed to practicing compassion and mercy, we need to become them. When we release our hurt and become filled with love and compassion our perspective changes and our hell then changes to paradise. Read the rest of this entry →

Dec19

Changes

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Changes

There have been periods of time in my life when I will look in the mirror and not recognize the eyes staring back at me. It’s a strange experience. These are times when the inside of me has grown and there begins to be something different reflected on the outside and I wonder who I am? Today as I paint, I feel different. The brush feels different, the viscosity of the paint feels different. I feel like I have grown in spirit and technique. Taking a break from Santa Muerte was good. I had been feeling bad that I hadn’t achieved my personal goal of finishing her earlier. But I understand now that I hadn’t been ready. She wasn’t ready. Collectively I feel the endings coming fast and furiously. Santa Muerte is speaking loudly now. This painting will be different, it might not look it but I am different now and it’s time I begin to reflect that.

Dec9

Time to End the Endings

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Time to End the Endings

My Sante Muerte is still not finished. While she has been up in my room, there have been many deaths. Literal and otherwise. For months now. In fact this entire past year has been one of incredible endings. Seemingly more so than usual. I’ve been to more funerals this past year than I have in my entire lifetime. I’m looking at her today and know that it’s time now to finish her. This week. I think there may be a few more endings. But it’s time to wrap that up! End the endings, get on with beginnings. I’m feeling quite strongly that Bridget is next. I will post pictures soon.

Nov25

Blocked

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Blocked

I haven’t painted in awhile. It’s bugging me. I did some of the background for Santa Muerte then stopped. I’ve been feeling frustrated and distracted by many things in life. Then today, I heard from the dead in a pretty dramatic fashion, as it is when someone who dies violently comes through. And I’ve thought alot again about this particular goddess. There is such a need for her, for those lost souls, living and dead. I need to finish her and I need to do it soon.

Sep24

Conversation with Santa Muerte

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Conversation with Santa Muerte

I didn’t sleep last night. A certain little one kept me awake. And if it wasn’t her, it was my thoughts. This morning, feeling hung over from lack of sleep and stressed from lack of funds, I decided I needed to do something creative. I need to petition Santa Muerte. She helps outcasts from society, the poor, the LGBT community, criminals. It is interesting to me to see so many goddesses that help the outsiders, those who cannot make problems go away or be fixed by throwing money at it. Often we are the ones who don’t have a voice and we don’t have a choice. What is left to us is MAGIC. I sometimes think of it as a last resort, I need to think of it as my first choice.

I decided I would re sketch my Sante Muerte. I see her differently now than in my first drawing. Then I will begin painting. She has been on my mind all morning. As I’m about to jump in the shower, my 2 year old daughter hands me a little slip of paper. One of the papers on which I had written out all the names of my goddesses that I’ll be painting. She hands it to me and asks “Does this say I love you?” I looked down and laughed. No, it said “Santa Muerte.”

I was in the shower when I heard her. Sante Muerte. And I thought, maybe she loves me. I hoped so. I told her I was tired. She said it wasn’t over yet. I started crying and said “but I’m so tired!” She said “You’re stronger than you know.” I said that I didn’t want to be strong any more. I want things to be better and in my head I envisioned a beautiful home, a victorian greenhouse, all the luxuries that money can buy. She just looked at me. I said, “I want that”. She asked, “Do you?” ..I answered with a question,”Will I have it?” ..I heard a voice answer yes, but it wasn’t hers. It was mine. Wishful thinking maybe. I asked again and she looked at me and said “It’s undecided”. I felt taken aback and asked, “Who decides”. She looked at me with no emotion, her eyes staring right into my soul and said:

“You do.”

Sep18

The next goddess…

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The next goddess…

The next Goddess I will be painting is Sante Muerte. I see her all the time now, standing there, watching me, waiting. This is afterall, Her season. The season of death, the season of ancestors. There is always something more to learn. There are little deaths, there are literal deaths. The world is always dying. She is also giving birth. How will my labor be? What is it that I’m birthing? What has yet to die before I can be reborn? It’s happening already before the brush has hit the canvas. She’s calling… It’s time to die.