~ The Art Of Change ~ with Carol Omer ~

Art and Creativity as Mediums for Empowerment , Connection and Change…

Archive for March, 2007

Einstein Chuckling

Posted by carolom on March 30, 2007

I LOVE Einstein…I love that he was left handed, had a deeply Spiritual insight, a wild head of electrical current hair, that he was a profound Thinker AND had a great sense of humour and humanity.

A Piscean, he truly was a big Fish in the Ocean of life…

I came across this clip on the net where Einstein is about to read something but there is too much noise going on, so someone (off camera) calls for “Quiet” and there was something about the moment that made Einstein chuckle before launching into his reading.
It is a brief chuckle but the light and delight sparkles in his eyes…Magic!

It’s just delightful to see this captured moment in a day of the life of this great explorer of the Mind.

Posted in Einstein, Humour, Imagination, Teachers | 2 Comments »

New Age Road Rage- Law of attraction running amok

Posted by carolom on March 27, 2007

This semi fictional piece was written after spending a great deal of time travelling on the city and suburban roads in the mid-late 90’s at a time when technology was making a huge in road to our daily lives at the same time as the ‘self actualisation’ industry began to pop up with a never before seen choice of healing, feeling, growing modalities to suit every persons need….

New Age Road Rage

She was stationary at the traffic lights, a mobile phone pressed snuggly to her ear. At the precise moment that the emerald disc flashed permission to go forth her lap-top computer which was open and operational on the seat beside her, slid forward and fell to the floor.
She experienced two automatic responses. Dropping the phone into her lap she simultaneously obeyed the command to accelerate whilst retrieving the lap top from it’s upright position.

She leant forward as she accelerated. It caused her personal-organiser multi storage-glows-in-the-dark mobile phone to fly off her lap and land on her left foot. She wove dangerously close to the next lane of traffic, placing a bus full of children, a plumber in his van, two Japanese tourists in a rental car and three bowling ladies in an old FC Holden at serious risk
The children squealed:
“Watch out, watch out, it’s a drive by office. It’s a techno-terrorist. Aaaahhhh”
There were screams and pandemonium as twenty-two faces pressed at the windows with frightened intrigue.
The bus driver reacted with the conditioned response of someone who encounters drive-by’s every day. He downed his foot and sped past the life threatening mobile office whilst the children screamed out “ pull over pull over ”.
Some were seeing a drive-by office for the very first time!

The vehicular office was a buzz with dangerous activity as the heavy metal steering lock jiggled dangerously close to the lap-top computer which was still splayed open on the passenger side floor.

“Hmm…” she thought. “Perhaps I should pull over.”
Still running on the adrenaline and excitement of regaining control, she responded to the idea with trigger light enthusiasm, causing her to cut in front of the startled bowling ladies in the FC Holden whilst four other cars performed a synchronised brake dance.

All around expletives rose and fell like dominoes but she remained oblivious to the furore she had created.
She would never know that Thelma, the best bowler on the team had emitted the four-letter word when she was forced to take evasive action.
Her team-mates sat in shocked silence. The drive-by office had claimed more victims in its wake.
Thelma had lost innocence in her bowling buddies eyes. They would never have thought their esteemed team member could be so un-Christian under pressure. Thelma’s foul language was unforgiveable and marked a turning point in the bowling teams future.

With practised expertise the phone-wielding, office-driving terrorist came to a dramatic halt in a no standing zone.
Flicking the hazard lights on, she retrieved the mobile phone.
“Hello, are you still there?” she asked warmly.
The equally pleasant and very patient man on the other end of the phone had no idea that she had saved them from danger in their near miss mobile tragedy.
“Yes, yes I’m here.”
“Sorry about that little delay. I’ll just have a look in my diary.”
She lit up a cigarette as she spoke, careful not to click the lighter too close to the phone.

Discretion. Such an important aspect of projecting just the right image for her job and smoking had become so unpopular these days.
Such judgement people place on one another!

“Yes, I can fit you in on Tuesday the 12th.”

Reaching over, she turned herself sideways, readjusted the laptop and started to type. (She was very impressed that the near miss tragedy had not upset the function of the little computer).
“I’ll just get a few details from you.”
Around her the traffic bleated its protest. A horn blared and a van tooted to tell her she was blocking the traffic flow.
“Bloody drive-by office” one angry florist screamed. “Why don’t ya get a real office ya moron!”

She was oblivious to their indignation. Her hazard lights were on so surely they could see this was an emergency?
She took the enquirers name, age and date of birth. Noted he was a Virgo and made a mental note that he probably had issues with criticsm and excessinve neatness.

At 4:45 on a Wednesday afternoon she efficiently conducted a preliminary interview in the midst of the peak hour build up.
“Yes I’ll look forward to seeing you then. No you don’t need to bring your own pillow if you choose to do the weekend intensive.
All we ask you to bring is a positive attitude and an open mind! At New Rage Alternatives we believe that to change our life we need to change our thoughts. Grow with the flow and things will get better before you know.”

The eager caller agreed. He knew his brother had put him onto the right person to help him. It just felt so..so right!

“Okay, look forward to seeing you on the 12th”
He hung up the phone chanting a little mantra to himself:
“Changing your thinking can stop you from sinking…
Changing your thinking can stop you from sinking……hmmm……I hope I don’t have to share aroom with a slob that weekend
Changing your thinking can stop you from sinking”…

She clicked the compact little phone shut and looked in the rear view mirror.
In the far distance she saw the tell-tale shape of an on-coming patrol car and with practised skill she repositioned the lap top on the seat beside her as she pulled out into the traffic, cutting in front of an off duty pizza delivery driver.
Her decisive action caused him to slam on his brakes frightening the peaceful ruminations on last weekends camping trip right out of him, leaving him startled and defensive!

“Bloody idiot” he screamed. “You drive-by mobile moron”

She turned up the volume on her sense-surround stereo and the seductive calm of ocean waves mingled with the cigarette smoke and her lavender perfume.

“Careful buster!….your negative thoughts will end up attracting you an accident” she mumbled pleasantly as the waves rolled and tumbled around her.
She accelerated her drive-by office and headed North.

The pizza driver increased his speed and leant forward to read the words emblazoned on the back window of her lipstick red BMW.
New Rage Alternatives. Let US help YOU gain control.
“Bloody yuppy hippy” he yelled, scaring Bronson his great dane who was sitting illegally on the back seat of his employers car.

She saw his face in her rear view mirror. It was contorted and twisted with rage.
She shook her head sadly, tutting in sage like fashion.
“Oh if only he could realise that his attitude is creating his reality…that’s a dangerous amount of anger he is vibrating there”
She exhaled dramtically, releasing the unpleasant feeling he had unleashed into the smoke filled car.
“ahhh…thats better breathing in the positive….exhaling the negative”……

She drew the image of a glorious white-light bubble around her to deflect the waves of vitriol the outraged driver was projecting towards her.

By the time he over took her he was wearing a nasty sneer and experiencing violent thoughts so it was not surprising that further up the road a radar gun clocked him exceeding the limit by two hundred and fifty dollars.
She sailed past doing 61 peaceful kilometres and she sighed knowingly when she saw the leather clad policeman emerge from the bushes and flag the culprit down.
“That guy has got no idea how his thoughts just manifested that speeding fine. He would really benefit from our Believe not Decieve seminars…”

Her thoughtfulness was interrupted when the mobile phone began to chirp cheerily in her lap.
She twisted the wheel slightly causing her to swerve to the right as she fumbled for the tiny little answer button, veering over the white line once again…
Her erratic actions impacted the traffic with no forewarning, frightening the driver in the big black vehicle in the next lane.
He was heading back to the funeral parlor and the unexpected swerve by the car in the lane next to him caused him to brake suddenly, almost dislodging the empty coffin in the rear of the hearse.

He slammed his hand onto the centre of the wheel, hitting the horn with such force that the ensuing blast of noise would surely have awoken his cargo had it been earlier in the day.
He immediately took a deep breath, steaming the window as he exhaled….

“Oh well, idiots like that are good for business” was his first thought once his heart had stopped racing and his mind could think clearly again. He had recently finished reading the New York times best selling self help book ,Choose Your Reality by Isis Magique and he had been practicing turning negative experiences into positive ones since.

“That duck-brain driver just gave me the perfect opportunity to take charge of my internal state”.
He smiled with the satisfaction of knowing he had just taken control of his emotional response.
Ms Magique would be impressed with her enthusiastic student indeed!

The driver of the bright red BMW was oblivious to the smiling face of the hearse driver along side her as she brought the phone to her ear…. “Hello, New Rage Alternatives- changing your thinking can stop you from sinking…. How can I help you to help yourself?”.

Posted in Humour, law of attraction | 2 Comments »

Jean Houston talks about her work

Posted by carolom on March 24, 2007

Jean Houston is one of the highly skilled Elders of the human capacities training movement.
Author of over 20 books, student of Margaret Mead, friend of Joseph Campbell and former trainer of Hillary Clinton, Jeans Mystery School and Social Artistry intensives are a powerful, high energy experience of art, creativity, Mind capacities development, dance, quantum physics, song and Energy empowerment….

In this video Jean discusses her work and her views on importance and significance of the times we are living in…

Posted in Art, Community, Creativity, Energy, Imagination, Journeys, Magic, Metaphysics, Mind Power, Mystical, Social Artistry, Spirituality, Teachers, The Art of Change, Transformation, Wisdom | 4 Comments »

Sisters…our Brothers are not all to blame….

Posted by carolom on March 24, 2007

Since opening up my suitcase and reading through 30 years of notebooks and journals….See here…… I have been reading things that I wrote at various stages of my years of working in human services. what an interesting expereince to say the least!

In the late 80’s and through the 90’s I was constantly coming across the ‘sexism in reverse’ trend of the very anti-male feminist right movement that was quite influential in the welfare sector, resulting in some of the very same exclusion by gender issues that women were rallying against in the first place.

I do not see myself as separate to or victimised by men, despite having had significant challenges in the male-female dynamics of our family in my formative years….
and living in a relationship that was hostile and volatile for a number of years.

After attending a public workshop one day I decided to pen my views , as a woman who is very not anti male and had never aligned with the feminist movement, preferring to focus on Human Liberation – recognising that the perpetrator is in their own prison too.
The following is the semi-fictional piece I wrote:
“Sisters, our Brothers are not all to blame”…. and although 10 years down the track it is a bit dated and has not been edited, my core belief in a much bigger story of Men and Women and the dynamics and politics remains as strong now as it did then….perhaps even more so as I understand the evolving nature of consciousness.


Sisters… Our Brothers are Not All To Blame!

She had been quite vocal for most of the morning. She was a tall lady, probably the oldest in the room and she commanded a certain degree of respect because of her age.
Those who were gathered were mostly white women without tribe and they responded well when a potential Elder was in their midst.
Some of the Archetypes are imbued with more power than others!
She was almost 6 foot and she had the equestrian look of someone who had ridden the hurdles and steeple chases of life in a manner that left her somewhat scathed…And when it was her time to speak, she proved to be very scathing indeed.
I had been doodling as the invited guests spoke. We had gathered from many walks of the working life to discuss the nature of addiction amongst women who are in pain.
There was only one man amongst us and when I saw him I experienced a ripple of trepidation that whispered words of premonition… “I hope this doesn’t turn into a blame all men session” I thought with more than a touch of apprehension…I had walked this path before.

I continued with my doodling…My subconscious tossed out the word BLAME…B-Lame, B, hyphen… lame.
“Hmm I like that. Blame. B-Lame be crippled by blame. Blame makes you lame”

I was beComing lost  in the lateral realm so I forced myself to put the pen down and pay attention to the tall woman.
It was her turn to speak.
Robyn, who had shared her story earlier that day offered her the microphone. She rudely dismissed it with a sweep of her hands.
I was in the presence of someone who had forgone politeness for purpose. She didn’t even notice Robyn’s slightly embarrassed smile…She was far too busy preparing for the attack.

She began to speak. “Women have been disempowered in all walks of life. In the Media, in Law, in Parliament and in the Church”
She launched into her interpretation of why the world is in the mess that it is. “The male structures are resistant to change and it is up to women to move into these areas so that the damage can be corrected”
I was unable to look up because I was in the midst of my premonition coming true and I was expending quite a bit of energy trying to thought-form communicate to the solitary male in the room.

Unfortunately the number of heads nodding in agreement negated my lone psychic cry. “Excuse me”, I projected his way, “Not all of use here believe that men are to blame for absolutely everything that has gone wrong”.
I shuffled uncomfortably in my seat.
“B-lame. Get stuck in blame.”
I went back to my doodling and sketched a cradle around the words. Underneath the cradle I wrote more words:
“The hand that rocked the cradle helped to perpetuate the myths”.
I was underlining it for the third time when I was compelled to look up.
A wise Elder would not misuse her sacred trust by imparting bias as a truth but before my very ears, she was perpetuating more of the victim-speak that had somehow become accepted as historical fact.

Her hostility brought forth the memory of a past learning curve. I had joined a forum of Youthworkers who had gathered to look at issues for young women who lived in shelters.…
Male workers were not allowed.
They were not allowed to participate regardless of whether or not they worked with the young women who we were discussing.
Excluded. Full stop. Excluded regardless of whether or not they were directly involved in policy making and that they may have had some very valuable contributions to make They were not allowed to participate because they were men.
I cast my mind back to the curve that strengthened my spine.
“Excuse me. Isn’t this forum concerned with issues for young women. Aren’t we being sexist by not allowing male Youthworkers to participate?”
The moisture in my mouth had undergone internal alchemy and was now pouring out the palms of my hand.
I was not used to asserting myself in the presence of overt separatism but I had done my research. I had checked with the Equal Opportunities commission first.
A male worker would be quite within his rights to assert that he was discriminated against because of his gender if he was excluded from this forum . I knew many good, kind, caring Youthworkers…and many of them were men!
Mickee, who was known as Michelle in the first half of her current incarnation, glared at me. It was not a politely concealed response. Mickee didn’t like men. She counselled female survivors of sexual abuse and she considered all men to be perpetrators.
No man was to be trusted! Betrayal by women who defended the rights of men was viewed as further evidence of the toxins of patriarchy…Mickee had read the book “Divas in Denial”.
I hadn’t but I knew that she thought I was in denial. She didn’t know that I used to partake of the blame-game.
I looked back on that time as a period of creative and Spiritual atrophy.
At that time I had not begun to understand metaphysics and the evolution of consciousness. The illusory nature of drama and pain were still unrealistic concepts …things had changed a great deal since then.

I thought Mickee looked very aggressive.
She was dogmatic and narrow minded.
She was angry and not at all compassionate or flexible.

She leant forward as she spoke.
“Look, we know that men are dogmatic, narrow minded, inflexible and full of anger.
I question why men want to work with young women anyway”…
Her sisters, my sisters rallied to her support…I was a misfit in my floral skirt.

I felt under attack by women who looked and acted in the manner that they attributed to the men who they despised.
Duality and paradox swirled before me as my learning curve stretched at my resolve and enticed me to back down. I didn’t.
The anti-male movement had been ruffling my feathers for far too long.

After terse debate there was a token compromise. Male workers could come along once every fourth meeting.
Alas, there was only one who was brave enough to come along and he was treated to the embarrassment of whispered intonations and looks that told him he was not welcome in this enemy camp..

He paid for the sins, real and imagined of all men who had journeyed before him.

The forum disbanded shortly after. The philosophical divide had created a chasm that could not be bridged and I had outed myself as a hetrosexual humanist in a flock of anti-male mostly-sisterhood- feminists who had little to do with men, unless it was to decry their flawed and vitriolic ways…

I brought my thoughts back to the room.
The speaker was drawing to a close. I knew it was time.
I had to respond to the attack that had lasted for half an hour and had left no man standing in it’s wake:
“Excuse me. I think that it’s quite sexist to make sweeping statements about men. What you have said is akin to saying that all women are bad drivers. It’s an archaic, sexist statement and it’s untrue.”

I knew my analogy was a little twee but she got the gist of what I was trying to say.

I looked at her with many other thoughts remaining unspoken.
Little boys who were told by their mothers, sisters, aunties and grandmothers not to cry. “Don’t be a sooky”. “Act like a man”. “Stop being a cry baby” “You’re acting like a girl”. “Don’t be a sissy”…”Boy’s don’t play with DOLLS!”
Suck it up!

Little boy artists and poets and dancers and writers who were laughed off the family stage and re-programmed to be tough, compete as urban warriors, providers for their flock.
The strong, silent type became a metaphor for the repressed, made-mute type.
Their fathers, brothers, uncles and grandfathers collaborated in these unenlightened beliefs…
Sugar and spice and all things nice…for the Girls.
Rats and snails and puppy dogs tails for the Boys.

We have all been involved in the machinations and messages that created the mess we are in.
Millions of boys schooled in the rigid discipline of removing themselves from the poetry and rhythm of life.
Millions of girls who were taught by their mothers and fathers to be nice, be a wife…don’t get a life.

Generations of blocked, angry frustrated men.
Generations of repressed, angry frustrated women.
Concentration camps for the Soul churning out damaged Men and Women, many of whom spend their adult lives wasting time and energy accusing each other of blame.

B-lame…get stuck in blame and we’ll never ever move forward.

Men who have had a shorter life span, higher incidence of heart failure and cancer and other Soul-bondage related illnesses.
Their Sisters, we women who suffered repression, depression, nest-internment, neurosis and an inability to reach our fullest potential …
We have all suffered…Let’s move on from the blame game say I!

My face remained expressionless whilst my thoughts embarked on my one sided debate.

“Life is one long conversation with our Self occassionally interupted by others”

The Expert on Addictions Elder looked down at me form her lofty height.

She spoke slowly because it was obvious I didn’t understand what she was saying.
“I was referring to the general state of things. The references I made to the male structures are to do with the patriarchal system”.

I did not respond. I didn’t want to debate in a few minutes her sexism of a lifetime. I dare not suggest that in order to address the balance we would have to look at the role of the Matriarchy in all of this. I wasn’t prepared to prod that sacred cow…not yet.
I did not want to take out the scales of injustice and weigh the grains of pain to see who has suffered the most and who was the most to blame.
I would not accept it when she inferred that a woman would be able to create positive change by virtue of the fact that she is a woman. The sceptre of my wicked step-sister loomed before me. Pauline Hanson. A paragon of the absence of insight and wisdom for multicultural reform.
I resisted the urge to request the tall woman to please explain!

The forum drew to a close. I tried to catch the eye of the man who had sat through the days discussion. He was nowhere to be seen. I heard later that he had not come back after lunch.

That evening I sat down to write a few words to the tall woman with a small view of a large and complex concern.
She was angry at all men and I crafted my words carefully in order to address her sexist views…….

“Dear Sister” I began, the internal alchemy now transmuting perceptions into the fluidity of words. “My Brothers are not to blame for everything that has gone wrong. To assume a person is a particular way because of their gender is something women have fought to have corrected. It works both ways……”.

I wrote about much of what I have spoken here and found myself writing late into the night.
I sensed that her blame was a mask that thinly disguised her own pain and the issue I was addressing was only a slither of much bigger story.
Nevertheless men had come in for quite a knocking that day, and it tends to happen a lot these days and I stand by my assertion that reminds us…
“Sisters, my Brothers are not all to blame”

Posted in Community, Drama, Lifes Stories, Men and Women, Sisterhood, Writing | Leave a Comment »

We ALL have a Big Story in a small Suitcase….

Posted by carolom on March 17, 2007

I love the internet and the amazing connections, stories, access to information and food-for-Thought that flies serendipitously throughout cyber space but…….Computers and the internet can NEVER replace….

A suitcase?….not JUST a suitcase…….

….a life time of stories and journals and memories that began with my first note book in 1979 when I was travelling around Australia in a caravan with my gorgeous old english sheep dog Shamus……..years of joy and laughter and lessons and b’lessons… and the angst-filled times that seemed they would never pass (they always do)….all crammed into the suitcase that is covered in dust and old memories….Thoughts dreamt in ink from the days when cyber travels and connections seeemed like a science fiction dream.

……We are living the Dream…

It is my Intention to write my Big Story…the story we all have to tell……the story found not only in our books and photograph albums but the Story that can be found in who we are Becoming….for we never really “Become’…change and new challenges, broader Dreams and larger canvases ensure that our Story is one of Becoming and will always be filled with many chapters not yet known….My suitcase has traveled through the times of teenage turmoil and homelessness that lead to working in homelessness for 20 years….the caravan trip that lasted for 4 years and the people I met along the way….the murder of my life long friend and the birth of our families beloved twins……

….my beloved teacher Molly- click here- and the years we spent in psychic /spiritual development and healing………the end of a relationship that I thought would never end and the journey back to happiness…..the Mystery School event where I met my true beloved…and the stories of the people who have passed through my life, leaving beautiful memories and photographs and videos….to todays story of the blessing of being able to provide …

Art based Empowerment training using creativity for change….

Perhaps you might like to think about writing your Big Story too?

Posted in Creativity, Journeys, Relationships, Stories, The Art of Change, The Law of Attraction, Writing | 4 Comments »

In Memory of the Big River Gums

Posted by carolom on March 16, 2007

Many years ago I worked in a beautiful old homestead that had been renovated to become a shelter for homeless teenagers…The House was set in several acres on land that was adjacent to a river and lushly populated with the magnificent Big River Gums that have huge green lungs for breathing the air clean along busy Waterloo Corner Road…..
This kind of setting was often the traditional gathering place in less complex times when the Land was still in the hands and hearts of the rightful custodians.

This is The House…

I left The House in the early 90’s and over the years it has undergone several incarnations…always remaining a place of service and community.
A few years ago I heard that ‘they cut down the Big River Gums’ and I decided I did not want to go back there to see the land bare of those magnificent trees that I loved for so many years…at night time I would hear them breathe in the wind, in the mornings their branches full of birds would wake up the residents with the calls of magpies and galahs and rainbow lorikeets…sometimes you could smell the euclayptus in the air and many a restless teenager found quiet time sitting under the huge branches that covered the front of the grounds.

I was in the region today and after many years of habitually ignoring the old road where The House is based…I decided to go back to the place that holds so many fond memories and images of Big Trees watching over the shelters everyday life…
I pulled into the property and realised that the tree culling had not been as extensive as I had envisioned…there is definitely a gaping gap in the area closest to The House but many of the trees on the peripheral remain…like this one….

I strolled around the property and was taken aback when I came upon the felled- bodies of the Big River Gums laying in a greying pile by the old olive grove….
It felt like I had come upon an elephants grave yard where the large bones were discarded to the elements and my sadness over the loss of these magnificent, story-laden Big River Gums was felt at a place hundreds of years back in time…

This is what I came across….

I sat for awhile and remembered the seasons and wind storms, the thunder and rains and long hot desert summers that these magnificent trees had grown through together. I remembered how I used to park my old volkswagon under the largest tree…ignoring the ‘careful of falling branches’ speak in favour or the shade and sense of always-protected-never-harmed by the Big Trees…
I wondered about the dozens of birds nests that appeared every spring and the possums habitat that disappeared in an instant…I wondered where all those restless teenagers are almost 20 years later….

Although I have never known the stories of the local Aboriginal people, I felt sure that the land by the river would have been a part of the life of the traditional owners because even amongst the car fumes and roads and buildings and traffic, the land retains a special vibration that is palpable.

As I sat reflecting on time and loss and death and rebirth and happy times and sad times, I noticed one of the remaining Trees watching me….listening to my thoughts and sharing in my loss….I felt the presence of the big River Gum, alive and vibrant, surrounded by the amputated trunks on the ground.

So clear was the presence of the Spirit of the Tree that his heavy brow, thick lips and bearded face can be clearly seen at the base of the trunk on the right hand side…

Can you see what I saw? …look at his big heavy brow and beard touching the ground as he wathces over the bodies of the “Standing People” now fallen to the ground…

I always talked to those Big River Gums ….they were a part of my life for such a long time…and today I heard them speak back to me as I sat there at the graveside of some very dear old friends…….

Sometimes it is good to go back to places we swore we would never visit again because even amongst the sadness and memories there is beauty to be found if our eyes are open……

Posted in Aboriginal, Australia, Community, Elders, Energy, Garden, Imagination, Lifes Stories, Love, Mystical, Oneness, Spirituality, Wisdom | 4 Comments »

Phoenix Purrl

Posted by carolom on March 13, 2007

I am developing a 12 piece Mandala series for an Art Exhibition “Talking in Circles”….

Like Connections we are all One (click here) the current current painting has golden orbs…which are sunflowers, created by fire-flames of turmoil and chaos…the garden grown on the compost of days now past…
I was inspired to do this piece after running a group for Women living in a domestic violence shelter and hearing their stories of having lost their homes, had their dreams and hearts…and sometimes teeth broken….but are now developing the skills, belief in Self and courage to create their new life, free of violence and old patterns.
Learning to develop their Mind!!…….Yes!

I had the Phoenix painting-in-progress on the floor earlier this evening….getting ready to paint some more….and I left the room for just a second…and upon my return….look who I found sitting in the flames, warming her bottom!……;)

Purrl the Wonder Gurrl Cat!

Purrl arrived in my life only a couple of months ago, a homeless stray who gave birth to 4 gorgeous kittens two weeks ago…so I guess that having known homelessness, single parenting and hunger, she is well qualified to sit in the Phoenix fire and claim her brand new, purrrrfect life….

Don’t you love her little face?

Posted in Art, Beloved Pets, Creativity, Imagination, Lifes Stories, Mandalas, The Art of Change | 1 Comment »

Create Your Own Mandala

Posted by carolom on March 13, 2007

Thank you Mandi for inspiring me to make a mandala to show how to …..make a Mandala!

I will add to this blog tomorrow with information about why Mandalas are a powerful tool for creativity, transformation and change…

Posted in Community, Creativity, Energy, Imagination, Mandalas, Peace, Spirituality, The Art of Change | 2 Comments »