Ceremonial Hanging

In many traditions there are customary coming-of-age ceremonies to solidify the "growing older" of the human body, the maturation of form, and other such passages a person travels through over time. Thirty is in many ways and to (too) many people a milestone of sorts...for better or worse. As I described, my "thirty" ceremony included a journey, a companion and the sea...a symbol of vast expansiveness, unknown, and seeming infinity to stare into. (what a good way to ring in the the future on the day of your birth, no?)

But I also commemorated my turning thirty with a ceremonial hanging:

(Images from show at Cup & Saucer, NE 30th and Killingsworth, Portland, OR through March 31)

I hung my first Portland show.



No matter how seemingly minuscule this show will become in my future endeavors, successes, and achievements, it feels satisfying now and inspiring to start off this decade on the good foot; to know that I have forward movement in the direction of my most desired goals while I look longingly and with intention into the great unknown.

accidental poetry (#2)

and let the chains rattle and great puffs of
passion
flow

and it falls on
every
thing
quiet(ly)

after such
stillness
butterflies come perfect to the light.

(assembled from gathered text collected, fallen, reassembled. 3/10)

sea/bay. day.

THIRTY.

What is so frightening about this number? Why, despite the fact that I have felt that twenty- eight and twenty-nine were immense amounts of work and I am finally feeling grounded and "content" does THIRTY still cut like a knife?

I was confident that my last two years of preparation, Saturn-return enduring, life-lesson learning and personal growth were going to make the actual moment of my 'turning' easy. Perhaps unnoticed(?). Yet like the minute hand on the clock and its eardrum-blowing *TICK* to, say, an inmate on death row waiting for the other shoe to drop, the TICK struck loudly, and came by surprise and I spent the first half of my big day in an even bigger funk.

Swirling like the incoming tide, my mind went to work obsessing over life's little details, compromise, the notion of contentment, the concept of fulfillment, and an overwhelming feeling of failing at it all. I guess I had that " Oh no! What am I doing here?!" sort of general commitment freak-out. Daunting.




But luckily I had already lined up a journey, a companion, and some time with the sea.




Ahh, the sea...vast, expansive, mysterious, unknown, quiet and calm despite its great action and intent, beautiful and powerful all at once. The sea is a centering place, accidentally metaphorical and sweet. Smelling salt sea air enlivens the nose, the senses, and awakens the mind. Watching nature active and at work inspires me to do, continue, be. By the end of the day "thirty" was beginning to settle in a little better, my mind became calm, my level of contentment felt momentarily satisfying, and my future, like the sea, became a simple mystery to which I can look forward mostly fondly.


I am grateful for my sea/bay day. O

And one thing I have certainly learned over the years: On big days its always good to have a mini-journey on hand and someone lovely to share it with.