Losing Track of Letting Go

QUIETUDE; Lucy Clark 2018

It can happen with a nod of time lost;

Of details in abundance;

Of mind work replacing soul work.

And one day, you look around and just know,

Without a shadow of gray in the early morning light,

That, YOU are lost.

Lost to your own voice

To the din of the “to do” list

To your souls yearning,

And your hearts Desire

But, there is always this moment

A moment of recognition

Of reflection

Of renewed committment

To YOUR Life seed

Sprouting from the soil

That you placed there

When you were Aware.

And then there is Now.

The Germination of All Things

“IN THE BEGINNING” Lucy Clark 2021

While walking within the mist of a mountain morning, I saw this beauty. I know, I know, it isn’t much. It’s just a cracked seed fallen from the mother tree above. But the gift it gave me is priceless.

I have been struggling with the absence of my creative work. With the success and expansion of the gallery has come reduced time to be in my studio. It has laid heavy on my heart and on my shoulders. A feeling of missing an old friend where the dance of our time together had become comfortable. Expected. Routine.

This little gem of a seed gave to me the realization and reminder that all things, even preciously adored things, have a chapter. And those chapters can either repeat in the future or they have an ending. The emotion we put on those chapters that have come before are of our very own choosing. No one else’s.

And, it is so, once again, in my evolution as an artist. Even though I may not be creating as prolifically as I once have in the physical form, I am still, very much a creator and purveyor of beauty. It has just taken on a new expanded perspective.

And, just as the seed needs to crack itself open with water, light and shadows, so must we. To see that what is before us may not be what has come before. But, it could never the less, be beautiful indeed.

Lucy

Photo/Writing Lucy Clark 2021

The Muse and the Moment

I remember reading an interview by Mary Oliver who was talking about her writing Muse. She would be out walking in the woods and the Muse would suddenly strike; the words were floating in her head so quickly that she would have to run back as fast as she could and put them to paper before they flew out into the ethers and be lost forever. The story struck me when I read it because I had experienced the same thing from time to time. I would wonder, having missed chances to pay physical witness to the thoughts escaping my stream of consciousness that those precious baubles were lost forever. And, sometimes, they were. And sometimes, they would come back around because I was the one chosen to deliver that particular message, on that particular speck of time dust in this ever turning world we call our own. It is in the spirit of returning that I offer this.

If breaths make up moments and days make up weeks which eventually are all packaged up into a life, what gift have we made? What gift for ourselves, for our humanity, for our people? Have we left them with a gift of untold care and blessings? Or, have we played the game of “living” so well that people look upon us and mention the phrases, “Bless her heart”, “that’s so sad” or “she could have been something”?

As I sit here at 5:45 am on a chilly late May morning, woken by my Muse who I haven’t recognized in nearly a month, I am struck by this moment, among other seemingly mundane moments. A moment of the mountainscape revealing herself once again; of the seemingly endless bird sounds creating the soundtrack of their morning rapture and of my mind, words and heart coming together in a brief moment of recognition of the present moment. The “now” and the “before” and of futures not needing attention or worry. Just the breath and sounds and state of my heart. Just the warm mug of coffee and the cold glass table top beckoning my senses to step into another day filled with all things just as mundane, and yet, just as temporary, undulating and precious as a rain drop on parched earth.

If you are in a place of pain, I encourage you to turn and stare at it down “between” the eyes. Taking your “unseeing” physical eye and see it for what it is. Temporary. If you are confusion, take a deep cleansing breath and feel the movement produced by a sure, unconscious pattern that your body makes when it inhales and then lets it all go. If you are in a place of love and reverence, BE with it. Roll in it. Get dirty, muddy and blissful with it, allowing every ounce of it to make its mark on your skin.

Sitting with pain can be the easy part. It can be as natural and normal as first light. But, my friends, it is in the luscious, abundant good times that we can question our worthiness to the moment. Stop it. Don’t do it. Let it wash over you like a lover’s touch that has long been absent. Like the soft, caressed breeze of a new morning sky. Like the last gasp of your heart yearning for safety. For if we don’t acknowledge and wrap our arms around the beauty that Life HAS offered, why would it have any interest in returning to us once again?

If we are unwilling to acknowledge and bow to the unbidden gifts from our lives, we will be unable to encourage more of them. We will be numb to lightness and always look for the dark to return. Honestly, almost willing it to so that we can sit in our self righteous stupor and ask for more of the same.

Feel the enraptured spirit of Joy unbound, if only for the briefest of time. Now, after you have, think about this. What if we could transfer that moment into a day? What if we could recognize the light just a touch more than the dark? What if we finally decided to receive the gifts that we have longed for as long as we have been alive? Imagine what that would bring to the door. Recognition, acknowledgement, reverence, love and limitless light. And though we know it’s temporary, I can assure you it will return.

The Path Toward Us

In the Morning; Lucy Clark 2021

If I could tell you one thing it would be this.

Outwit your doubts. Give them a maze of self care and love that is so vast they simply just peter out, give up, throw up their hands with the hard, gritty work of getting you to make yourself smaller and wander off to doubt themselves.

And one more thing.

Take your inner critic out for a leisurely drive and show them all of the places, faces, crevices and refracted sides of your lovely soul. Let that miserable fucker see the beauty reflected in your eyes and deep within your heart until it simply cracks in to a shattered mess of butterfly wings, flying off to find the love it so richly deserves, just like you.

And lastly.

Show your anxiety the lushness of a single, solitary flower petal. Ask it to slowly brush its fingertips along the roads and byways of its visible veins allowing the softness to seep into your hands as you walk through a veil of mist from your future worry into the present moment.

And then…..be Whole ❤️

Photo/Writing Lucy Clark 2021

Sleeping Around

In Communion; Lucy Clark

A few days ago, I was asked in jest whether I had been sleeping around because I sure was getting a lot of press and recognition for the gallery and myself. I rolled my shoulders back and responded with clarity and kindness and moved on with my day; but the comment struck deep and I finally realized that it was partly true.

Like many small business owners, for the past year I have had my hands all over mine. In early April of last year, as I stood alone in the gallery that encompassed my heart, I had to make a decision whether I was all done or all in. I worked, worried, loved and ensconced myself with the act of coming through this surreal time with a beautiful space that could welcome the weary eyed and bring light to their life; and for the most part I’ve been pretty successful.

As the jest drove me deeper toward introspection I decided to come up with a list of items that I have slinked around with, both day and night and I am finally ready to confess.

Here goes………..

I slept with my Integrity; waking up each morning and checking to make sure I was standing deep within it. My own integrity, answering to my own standards and acting from a place of clarity.

I slept with my intentions to consider the angles and undercurrents; those misguided and needing reflection and repair.

I slept with my big dreams of a prosperous art business where the work that I created and those I represented were loved and supported.

I slept with my concerns and hopefully woke to discernment and direction for exactly how to work them to a place of calm decisiveness.

I slept with my husband and my dogs knowing when morning came I would feel comforted and blessed.

I slept with a clear conscious that I did my damn level best at every given opportunity and if I didn’t, I awoke with the full intent to be a better person than I was the day before.

I went to bed with the beautiful mantra that I am thankful for what I’ve been given but also for what I could give.

You see, I’ve been sleeping around like crazy and I do not feel one ounce of guilt or shame. I am imperfect, crookedly self critical and committed to taking responsibility to the life I am incredibly blessed to call my own.

So, dear one, I have been sleeping around the Universe and back again and the best part is, I’m still faithful and slap full of wild abandoned joy to my Life and my calling.

And so it is……….❤️

The Space Between

Breathing the Sky; Lucy Clark

What will you do when the world goes to seed?
When all of your hopes and dreams have been nudged into reality; when all of your fears are finally laid to rest.


Will you dwell within the confines of this world or will you be elevated to the space between?
The space between your breath and your heart;
To the moment inserted where the before and after dance;
To the place where the pause is more urgent than the forging.

I can look back on my life and know that I have not honored this most sacred of places. I have allowed the “what’s next” drug of choice to encapsulate my well traveled bones and push me swiftly to run past my accomplishments and head long toward another goal, another challenge, another learning curve.

As a creator, I soulfully know that “a creator must create.” But what if, as a collective, we shifted our perspective on what that actually means. What if creating space meant that we saw it as our angelic obligation to allow ourselves to breathe between the finish line of one race and the start of another. What if we imagined a flow of still points that encompassed our lives as much as our ladders of success. What if, my lovely ones, we took it within ourselves as a form of our highest good to believe that everyone is doing the very best they can and that the “very best” shifts moment to moment and from inhale to exhale.

With suspicion running rampant like a tornado across Kansas, there needs to be a time where all goes quiet. A place where a breath can simply be a breath; a step forward is a loving act of kindness and judgment is left behind in the trash barrel of things no longer required.

I simply must believe that this world exists. For without it, we are doomed to frolic in our co-misery of this life and relegate light, breath and space to the confines of illusion.

Be kind. Think the best of those around you and when you look in the mirror and see the person shining back at you, tell them once and then again toward eternity……

I see you, I believe in you and I fucking adore you ❤️

Integrity in a Suspicious World

Beauty in the Contrast; Lucy Clark

If the past year has proven anything, I’m pretty sure we can all agree that trust has been put on probation. So many divergent stories have been told, so many promises have been made and so many disappointed by it all. There is a deep, voluptuous longing for the truth without agenda. A spiritual calling for our higher self to surface within the turmoil of the outside world. A need, more fervent than ever before, to believe that this will all transform into the bright of day.

With all of the tired wishes and moments of hope, some have taken the path from a collective suspicion aimed at our governing bodies to one of shooting arrows toward anyone who is within our direct line of sight. It’s as if our quivers are full of poisoned tipped arrows and we are lying in wait for the next person who disappoints us to get it through the heart.

And then……….what?

Will we feel justified in taking another down when all they simply did was be present? Are we in need of making another wrong for the momentous time we live in that anyone, anywhere, minding their own business can be converted into a “bad” person with an ulterior motive? Has a reaction to a situation become a habit which in turn become an addiction?

If I could encourage each one of you to do something it would be this.

When you feel yourself reacting rather than responding, simply stop. Back up and take a breath. Take a five minute walk. Look outside yourself in the natural world and put the arrow back in the quiver where it belongs.

The greatest power we have within us all is to create tolerance for our fellow traveler.

Now, more than ever, we have been led to a collective state of being. Think the best of the person beside you. They are, just like you, paddling as fast as they can to reach the safety of the shore.

Replicating Authenticity

Sunrise in Winter; Lucy Clark

My Mom was a full blooded, multi-generational Italian Seamstress. She had an enormous studio in the basement of our home filled with cloth, thread, needles and go ‘ol Italian verve. I would sit and marvel at the things she made; her hands working magic on anything from clothes to curtains; uniforms to wedding dresses and everything in between.

Once and only once, I sat down at the sewing machine deciding that I too, could replicate what she was doing. It only took running one long seam and my Mom telling me to tear it out that I realized that her craft wasn’t meant for me. It was her place, her sacred space to speak a truth she couldn’t verbalize any other way.

When I finally found clay I knew I had found an avenue for my authentic voice to emerge. Yes, as I started, there were a few pieces that resembled others work, but clearly from the beginning, I realized I had something unique to contribute to the craft. I persevered to see, that without anyone’s influence of design, I could emerge with a voice distinctly all of my own. And, if I am proud of nothing else in this world, I am honored that clay let me find that.

Since taking the photo above, something truly dawned on me just like the sun rising on a clear, cold, winter’s day. The Sun rises every day and yet, every day it’s different. It’s truly always one of a kind but also has the same qualities absorbed within.

As a creator, each and everyone one of us has the chance to see something unique and authentic in our work. By attempting to replicate another’s work, idea or gifts it’s sort of like the Sunrise trying to replicate a Sunset. To be inspired by another’s work is sheer magic. To take their work, manipulating it and attempting to “own” the creation means only one thing. It will never be yours. You will always see the other person within the creation and you, and only you, will have to speak to that falsehood.

I encourage you, implore you and downright get down on my knees and beg of you this. Step away from imitation and replication and just quietly create. It may be shitty at first but I promise you, if you continue to clear your throat and sing with your own voice, you will eventually spread your gold flecked wings and fly. Once you do, the Universe awaits.

And with that, I leave you with a scale of creating from a very dear friend. Think about it; Talk about it; Do it; Do it Right and then my lovelies, Do it Your Own Way ❤️

When the Raven Calls

When the Raven Calls; Lucy Clark

This vintage, yet timeless song by Buffalo Springfield keeps playing in my head…… “Something strange is happening here; what it is ain’t exactly clear; there’s a man with a gun over there; telling me I got to beware…….”

With the electric ride that we called 2020, most of us breathed a deep, purifying sense of relief when it came to a close. With eyes bleary, weary and wild, we were able to crawl through the tattered passage way of that shared experience into a new year with the hope of a 5 year old on Christmas morning that the package we were about to unwrap was destined to fulfill all of our wishes and dreams.

But, Life doesn’t have a way of working out like our fantasies and, taken with an occasional glass of Prosecco, that’s ok. There will always be events outside of our control, that being the one truth that we can always hang our hat on. We are temporary beings of stardust and water; attached indelibly to the deep sky, the ocean and the earth.

But, what about those things that we can control? With a year stock full of electric slides, roller coasters, dark tunnels and disease, our reactive “buttons” are on ALL of the time. Collectively and individually we are dancing around the next drama, the next disappointment, the next wildfire. And so it seems many of us have taken this blistering and turned it outward. From holding tight through a pandemic we have gotten used to the drama. Waiting for the next stupid quote to flame about, the next riot for justice or another cause that needs “causing”, we have collectively gotten “juiced” by it all. And, my friends, we are close to being broken.

Our hearts, minds, bodies and spirits look like a prize fighter after the 15th round of shared brutality.

And what are we doing with all of this pain? Some of us are lashing out within our sphere of family and friends; making others wrong to deflect the intense pain, loneliness and dysfunction they feel within. Others are inflicting the pain inward, always wondering what they could have done better to be better. And some of the magical folk are simply holding the Light, quietly and sometimes secretly, breathing through the impulse to react and instead giving space and time between so as to respond with kindness and compassion.

I am not here to tell you what to do, all I am here to say is this; Kindness is a religion I can support. If we are truly, as a community, to get through to the light we need to occasionally drop the butter knife we hold to each others heart and just be kind. For a breath, for a moment, for an hour or a day. Each step along the way will help with the transition away from our new shared habit of sparks and flares of fire toward a resting state of love, thoughtfulness and caring for each other.

Just for a moment……….❤️

Moon Angel

Moon Angel; Lucy Clark 2020

In the shape of night, we can see what our deepest desires implore.
The brightness of a half-full moon shining into the shape of an Angel.
An Angel of lightness and hope
Of loving and forgiveness
Of moments and lives cherished
Of lifetimes honored and embraced

In this light there is a delicious ease in laying down the sharpness of our fears.
The battles we fought
The words we flung
The hate we have embellished
The bruises we inflicted
And the causes we have forged.

For, if we are to be IN the light and OF the light
We must relieve the darkness for which we hold
And reflect the stellar sky within our hearts
Shining fiercely toward a brand new day.

LC Photo and Writing