A Story Worth Remembering

On a Cold Winter’s Day; Lucy Clark 2020

I was young and at the beginning of what was to be a nearly 30 year career as a Massage Therapist. I had been seeing a lovely German woman for quite sometime when, during one session she told me of an experience that she had while living and working as a bank teller in Germany during the height of World War II.

At the time of her story she was young as well. Perhaps in her mid 20’s and feeling the freedom that came along with being out on her own for the first time. She was unmarried, employed and feeling like her life was just beginning.

When she spoke about that time it was with a mix of joy and anxiety. She lived about two miles from one of the largest concentration camps and the talk was uneasy around town about what the German army was doing out there. She told me that everyone in town received a pamphlet. It explained to the fine, hardworking German people exactly what they needed to know. The concentration camps were for anyone who committed a crime. Anyone, including the native population could be sent there. She went on to say that if, upon being found guilty, you would be taken to the camp for a period of time to “concentrate” on your transgressions and then be released back into civilized society once you made reparations for those crimes.

Nothing was said about the thickened, sooty sky; the trains with disused, dirty humans packed in like over proved bread. It was all very simply put to them and they chose to believe it. They actually wanted to believe it. Each needing desperately to hold onto some semblance of normalcy in a increasingly dangerous and debris filled world.

She spoke to me of this while she was in her late 70’s and pondering what she, one small, simple, unadorned German civilian could have done about this. It wasn’t until the camps were liberated that the truth of what was happening came rushing forth like a flash flood in a hot, dry canyon bed. By that time, she had left the country and found safety in this beautiful country of ours. She lived a long, healthy life and while I lost touch with her years ago, I continue to honor her memory and her story as one of the most profound things anyone has ever shared with me.

On this day, and the last few that have passed, I am reminded once again how the public, even our fine Republic of the Free, can find it’s way to overlooking horror for safety; turning our heads from violence for the sake of certainty and letting children run amok in war paint and horns and all the while saying everything is fine.

We are all waging this war in different ways, most of them at odds with one another. My plea for kindness will be unwavering and my determination to stay present with gratitude in my heart for everyday will never be finished.

I just thought this was a story worth remembering.

The Setting of the Sun and The Rise of the Moon

When the Sun and the Moon Meet; Lucy Clark 2020

The Setting of the Sun and the Rise of the Moon

As I look back on this year with the eyes of a weary traveler, it feels like I have lived in a world created by Salvador Dali. At any moment I’m pretty sure the clock in front of me will start melting on a piano floating in the sky and I will simply think……..Hmmm, I wonder what I’ll cook for dinner. Like the ability to make this shit anymore surreal was just about impossible.

And then, I saw this.

I saw, with my very own eyes, the rise of a blessed Full Moon and the setting of a divine, fiery Sun. In that precious moment, it felt like a portend of the future and a putting to bed of the past.
Like the heat of this year was slowly fading and the cool, wispy beams of the Moon were set to take center stage, calming our fears and comforting our souls.

Yes, I’m hopeful. Yes, I’m tired. Yes, oh Yes, my fellow soul exhausted lovelies, I am still here. And hopefully, so are you. Battered, but awake. Soul shot, but healing. Loved but with the aching sense of loss and renewal.

I choose to believe that the best; mine, yours and ours, is yet to come. For in the moment of destruction comes creation. In the moment of death comes Life. And in this very moment, of all moments, comes another breath of a chance to capture the joy that has been waiting there all along.

I bow to the New Year with just a little more humility than I had before and knowing more than ever, all we have is Now.

Creating Ripples

Rippling Out; Lucy Clark 2020

Without a thought, we ripple. Sometimes even without a care.

Without care, we ripple. Sometimes even without a thought.

With thought, we ripple. Our care clearly showing.

With care, we ripple. Our thought in our actions.

The choice is ours.

When Softness Abides

“When Softness Abides”; Lucy Clark 2020

I wish I could tell you how it happens. How the din of quietude entering with the mist bellows its way into the space between the thoughts.

How it huffs and it puffs through lyrical, silent breath and lifts us from the reverence of mental gymnastics, immediately transporting us to a place where nothing and everything exists in luscious, living color.

Just like the magic touch of a long tended lover, the mist simply lights on the soul and commands you to breathe slowly and languidly, all the while wishing like a firefly one more chance for the dark of night.

As it soothes our hurried gasps and inhales while quietly speaking of peace, you have no choice but to bend to its demands; wishing for those commands to be met and dropping the cloak and dagger around your heart.

To each and everyone of you, I wish you the Magic of the Mist ❤️

Meanwhile Down in the Basement

Down in the Basement; Lucy Clark 2020

Meanwhile, down in the basement……..

Below my gallery you will find this. A deep recess of dirt and concrete that ends with a door to nowhere; a dead end that hasn’t seen the light of day in decades and an ever present sense of soul breaking loneliness.

I have thought a lot about this space since I had the courage to take the plunge and walk down the stairs and spend anytime at all in that shrouded world of dusky mystery. And I will be absolutely honest and tell you that the reason I could was due to being accompanied by my husband who lovingly chided me for my irrational fear.

In a weird sort of way, that basement reminds me of my very own dark side. And not just my dark side, but everyone elses, too.
We store are deepest, darkest secrets within the bowels of our selves. Any practicing Spiritualist will tell you that the Chakra system starts at the base root of body and encompasses our tribe, our survival voice and our need for power and control. Blessings and curses included in them all.

After having pondered this for quite awhile I have come to the realization that It is up to me to uncover, acknowledge and converse with my darkness. To clear the path so that the light can get in; to shine a light on it so that others aren’t bludgeoned by it.

And finally, to bless the fact that the deepest, darkest, most badass inky blackness can be obliterated with the light of a single, solitary candle.

LC/Photo & Writing 2020

From a Sprout

From the Beginning; Lucy Clark 2020

The very beginning. The beginning, from a seed to a sprout to a mountain forest and all that grows in the in between.

To me, the definition of Life.

It is the verdant, unreasonable, furtive hope that we will grow into ourselves and encompass that whole of who we are. All of our aspirations laid within the cellular structure of this beautifully designed, almost imperceptible, breath of a wish called a seed.

The netting laid down with the mastery of sacred geometry, holding upon the earth our shared missives and dreams of what’s to come next. Of what could be. Of what we so longingly yearn for. Life abundant, prosperity unparalleled and love unbound.

The resilient trees and masterful mountains in the background to remind us of what could be, ever changing; of the possibilities that might be, of what we are destined to be if we only allow it.

Within each of us is the greatness of our true selves just waiting to be uncovered but playing small will never do. For we have the strength of the seed within us and the glory of the mountains to become. Everything in between is the journey of 1,000 roads to be adored.

Writing and Photo; Lucy Clark 2020

Twilight Dancing

Twilight Dancing; Lucy Clark 2020

Twilight Dancing

Even when we can’t, even when we won’t, even when we don’t think we can take one more step, twilight still dances.

Each evening brings another opportunity to immerse ourselves into the galaxy of stars and wear them like fairy lights while swishing our coats around us in the deep umber of night.

Be the Twilight Dancing.
Dance Among the Stars
And bathe yourself in the wellspring of night.

Photo/Writing LC 2020

Still Life in an Artists Studio

Art Studio Still Life; Lucy Clark 2020

I never tire of visiting other artists studios. There is something so damn magical about the energy of each and every one. Each has their own line up of tools, placements, easels, wheels, paints and glazes. Each has every inch of their space imbued with their own, almost tactile, essence. Each their own way of creating.

Whether it’s neat and tidy or the remnants of a bomb going off makes no difference to me. To be invited into their lair of quietude is a great honor and one that I feel is truly exposing the artists underbelly of vulnerability. I see it as their very own church; communing and humming along with their secret Choir of Angels. Voices that are melding, dancing and rising up like the mist on the mountains into celestial, beautiful creation and song. And, all at once, I realize that I am humbled to be there.

And I bow in grace to be included, if only for a moment, within the melody.

Writing and Photo: Lucy Clark 2020

When You Believe

The Signature; Lucy Clark, 2020

When You Believe

I was told over 6 years ago, when contemplating a move to North Carolina with my husband, that I shouldn’t.

I should keep my “day” job and stay put. Continue to work full time in a profession that, though, was incredibly good to me, felt as though I was a stripper on a double shift.

I was told that, at the age of 52, I was too old to start over, hunker down, do without, and build something new that was sure to be a failure.

These words, spoken by someone who I loved and adored, stopped my breath AND my heart.

I did it anyways.

Right, wrong or indifference from external voices, at the end of the day, just might keep you from being you. I have made so many mistakes that have led me to this moment. So many crooked, creaky, crazy ass boners that have led me right here to the pen in my hand.

And Here is where I choose to be.

Signing a new lease for a bigger space to showcase the work I create as well as some incredibly talented people that I am cherished to know. Well, for me, and Lord knows, I can only speak for myself, it doesn’t feel right, wrong or indifferent.

It feels just fine 🙂