My process in the studio is a bit slow at the moment. I don’t feel like revealing what’s going on there now, because it’s still in a progressive state of constantly re-deciding what I’m doing there. One day I think it’s a good time to complete old projects, another day it’s a good time to start a new one. In the meantime, I’ve got about a dozen ideas I’m working on… and none of it at lightning speed.
I decided when I started this blog that it should be about anything that relates to my creative life. Part of my creative life is my spiritual life. In fact, it is the grounding for my creativity (especially when I’m feeling somewhat ground-less, as I have been lately). Therefore, I’ve decided to do a little exposure about my altar, which has been in re-development over the past month. I used to have my altar set up in my attic, as it seemed like the best place for it. It turns out that I rarely went up there, so I bundled up all of my altar objects and brought it down to a space in my bedroom. It’s now much easier for me to remember to sit daily. I usually do this as I begin and end the day, or anytime I feel called for a little silent contemplation.
All of the objects on my altar are of personal significance and aid me in finding my connection with spirit.
The most personal object is a photograph of my father. Looking up into the trees, I feel that it is the one photo that captured his transcendent spirit. I’ve recently been told by a couple of intuitives that he is a guiding angel that is always near me. I was told that he watches me as I paint, and as I sleep. Recently I’ve had a lot of dreams about him, so I’m inclined to believe this (or perhaps I just want to, as I miss that connection I had to my dad). For months after his death, he would come to me in dreams. Often he would transform into an animal… or tell me secrets about “the other world”. Sometimes he would speak to me with no words (yet, it felt like a thousand words at once)… all through his gleaming eyes, letting me know that all was well and that he loved me. I felt like I could have stayed in that moment forever. I know that when I die, he will be the one who brings me over.
Currently, the central object on my altar is this abalone shell, given to me by a friend and spiritual guide. Inside the curve of the shell is a mirrored pendant that belonged to my mom. (It makes me smile to remember a photo of her when she received it as a Christmas gift. She put it on her head and it got stuck on her nose). Thinking of it as a mirror, it reminds me never to take myself too seriously. Also in the shell are about a dozen fragments of writing. I recently decided to write down all of my blessings (because I often forget when I get into my complaining mind). I wrote them on pieces of rice paper, which I plan to glue into a paper-mache bowl.
Other objects include a lovely scarf that my sister gave to me… it’s too nice to wear, and I’d rather contemplate it’s patterns as a backdrop for my Buddha sculpture, prayer bracelets, crystal pendulum, and special stones (picked from the Columbia River banks).
I love this photograph of a Buddhist monk that I got from photographer Lenny Foster when I was lived in Taos. He did a series of beautiful photographs of the hands of the spiritual ordained of other cultures. I love the detail of the patterned robe, the waterlilies in the background, and the ceremonial touching of the prayer beads. 
While I don’t necessarily call myself a Buddhist, it’s probably the closest alignment I have with “organized religion”… mostly because it relies on personal reflection instead of intermediaries. I do believe that all humans have a Buddha nature, which for most of us lies undiscovered. I also believe in reincarnation. Sometimes it takes many lives to evolve into the discovery of our higher consciousness. I have a hard time remembering prayers, so I’m making it a practice now to place near my altar prayers or poems that inspire me.
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