Monday, February 25, 2013


My Beauty Well had completely run dry a few weeks ago.
You see, I was putting every bit of inspiration the days and weeks were giving me into my work without refilling the account, without going museum-ing or taking the camera out on neighborhood walks.
There were no hikes or bike rides at night with my blinking light to guide the way...


as a treat for the three of us I booked a night at a favorite place brought to my attention during a trip
with a dear dove.

to Hell with 7-11: thank heaven for Inverness!!!

We packed up Brock and wound our way North across the Golden Gate and through the culinary treats of Petaluma

settling in for a while under the duck blind and watching the Great Egrets and Herons
slow down our breath and take it away.

I am forever amazed at how well Orion travels, at his wonderful comfort level in new places.
Whenever we go out to eat with him there is the inevitable comment from another table or a server as we're leaving: "Your baby is so calm, so good" -
I think it's because the world has been such a lovely place for him so far,
every outing showing him the best of people.
Smiles and fun and questions that help him come out of his shy shell...
May it continue to be so!

It's not like we were broken when we came up to our true home this Saturday (a year in Petaluma and my heart belongs to the earth of the North Bay, to those ancient mountains that time wore out)
but we were frayed.

Our hearts needed ministering to by birdsong and irish hills.

Orion saw his first significant ocean waves at a Favorite Beach
we fell asleep to the sound of Hoot Owls calling to each other in the dark
We watched hummingbirds fight over the sweet nectar of a feeder

I think we owe it to ourselves to get out of Dodge as frequently as the soul needs
and fill all the empty places that outside things can fill
as soon as possible
because even though the world has proven great art can come from tortured and parched spirits
I've certainly never known that to be true.

I've known fire and inspiration to come from ache and healing, but none from 
a dry and exhausted well.

Driving home tonight they began their slow and tremulous waltz through my psyche,
the nymphs of inspiration.

I listened, I sketched in my head the things that they whispered
and oh my is so good.



Are you taking care of you, oh dear Reader?

Tell me what you've done to tend your dry places
and we'll compare notes.

With love,
Sunny Bearing Water


Marcie Abney Carroll said...

My sister and I will take her brood someplace and get the same compliments and one day I's not so much them as it is us...they are who we are and reflect the best of our souls. To that end, your beautiful baby's heart is a reflection of two other beautiful hearts. I'm glad you were able to recharge!

thewindhover said...

Oh Sunny, I love this... all of it, words, images, and oh that moment captured of baby O with the spectacles, makes my heart stop a little, and swoon.

this last week we escaped for a few days into the high alpine places - refreshing our bodies with that rich snow-capped mountainous landscape, cool air, walks in the snow, snowboarding (for alex), sketching and recipe writing (for me), endless delighting in an agreeable labrador that lived in the house we stayed in (for reu)

love to you dear Allison!

Cat said...

wise woman you are
it is so true
nothing comes from the dry well but bitter dust
replenishing of our bodies, out hearts our souls are so important
the weekend was one of giving, but last night and today I indulge in that which gives me center....many things on the horizon distracting my is what it is
so today
for the most part
is mine

love the images you shared here
love seeing the smiling faces
love point reyes
the magic is endless

love to you my friend
love and light

pencilfox said...

it is good to recognize the dry and empty well, the need to replenish and restore.
what a sweet trip with those you hold dearest in your heart.
i loved every image, every word.


Sybil Ann said...

I made a vow to not hold grudges. I realize (I always knew) it hurts only me. I can still care and still grieve when we can hurt others for little or no reason, but I resolve to leave it to G*d to sort out and put it behind me. I won't go so far as to say I forgive - because true forgiveness may be beyond my flawed spirit - but I will leave it, the hurt, like an eggshell in the compost, to fertilize an act of kindness, or to fuel a second thought before I hurt someone without intention. I have been aching in spirit for far too long, hurting only myself. I let it go.

UmberDove said...

That is the place, the song, the green, the very air to fill. I'm glad you went. It WAS time.

These past months I've become rigorous, selfish even, about filling up, taking mornings to drive up the mountains and wander aimlessly through field and grove, about focused meditating and about reading in the bath (oh! the bath! it's just such a luxury).

with all my heart, -U