The land is alive this morning; a full night of rain and the brisk morning wind left a frozen blanket lingering between the form and the formless. Bluebird perches on Juniper, her sweet dawn shrill waking the buzzing bees and greeting the much welcomed golden and pink rays of Sun's first grace. With my eyes closed, I feel the world around me, I feel my body's terminus as the breeze brushes my finger tips. I smell Manzanita thawing as day time's warmth shakes her free of night time's icy shawl. Sitting here, grounded on this fallen, silvered tree, I am connected, I am of this place, I dwell amid my kin.
Tender Life
Tender life herself surrenders to the force of progress, milked for her truest essence, displayed with brutal honesty. She takes up too much space, and gives herself freely. She's been killed, taken. Flowers blossom in her wounds her flesh, devoid of pulse, becomes the antidote. Her blood, now stagnant and cold, fertilizes that which took her. The ultimate offering of her carnal body nourishes my soul. I stand wittness, confused and in awe.
My Mother’s Womb
The black tailed hare hops across my vision. I begin to tune into the movings of the desert the seemingly barren land becomes alive with the whistling wind, the scurrying mice, the resilient flora tenaciously rooted in the rocky soil who is crawling with life itself. On the rocky ridge line a boulder carved by the whistling wind, eons of pebble pounding gusts opened her womb and birthed this place to die, to fully awaken. This tender rock cradled my body and as I crawled into my mother's womb it all became alive.
LizaLize hats!
Friends! I’ve made hats! get yourself and your friends some!
My LizaLize Etsy Page! (click here to go to site)
Desert Canyon Tortilla Press
I love functional art.
My new drum
makin my lil drum, elk hide birch hoop
I recently had the privilege of participating in a drum making workshop with Yolanda Martinez, an amazing woman and master drum maker (visit her website).  She shared her knowledge, stories, and incredible energy as we worked our drums into form. A beautiful experience and, wow, do these drums have their own little life and voice.  The vibrations and song they emit are truly beautiful.
beautiful face
four directions handle
Glory in the Sun
As the dark comes on
As the dark comes on the pinks, purples, and such of dusk slowly take rest leaving all who witness in wonder of what the next act of this marvelous play has in store. The dark cape of night slowly ascends above. Trillions of shimmering jewels dance in full glory occasionally leaping straight across the stage. More dancers appear with every gaze. The deep complexities of their movement, subtler than before, suddenly erupt into the whole shebang. The opaque streak of the Milky Way appears, the boldly painted planets, mystery and wonder manifested. What a marvelous play, indeed, that holds me into my slumber.
Flight
What freedom, to soar on an invisible river over the static sea of green to spread your arms adorned with feathers and take flight.
Moss Tree
The moss covered tree holds me with kindness. Her long and wandering arms reach out, leaves thirsty for sun, to turn light into sweetness. She creates a wonderful oasis for my rosy cheeks to rest. Vultures are on the hunt above, weaving through my branch cluttered sight looking for the lone mouse. Oosnea drapes elegantly, swaying with the wind branch’s fingertips bob in unison. She dances with this precious life.
Sweet Nectar of Life
It’s amazing how waterfalls can sing me away. Their rhythmic rush subtly and gently removing all the clutter. Or the sound of the river cooing me to sleep at night their hushing hum, sweeping all of it down stream. The sweet nectar of life.
liza lize 