ESSAYS by PinkEagle
Introduction to my essays
Somehow you’ve found yourself at my website and are now wondering about this link - Essays.
I hope you’ve already read my bio, looked at my art and digested the captions. If not, maybe you should. As the old saying goes - “a picture is worth a thousand words.”
Well, the same could be said for my art. My clay gastropods and animals reveal much about me as a painting reveals much about the painter. They are my essays too. Written with my fingers using multi-colored polymer clay.
Now, about these essays.
October 15, 1987 - my life changed. I got zapped, so to speak!
March 17 - 26, 1993 - my life again changed. Zapped again, so to speak!
I’m not trying to be mysterious! I’m not yet prepared at this point to make public the details of these two “births” in my life. But without these two, my art would never have come into being.
The essays you are invited to read and ponder are like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. The Puzzle is the book these essays come from that is yet to be published. So you will be reading chapters - some that will be in the book and others that won’t make the cut.
All my essays - I collect them like the seashells I amassed when I was a live collector. So they are dated when I wrote them; including where I was, what the weather and any other data I see as pertinent.
This is what I did as a collector of live snails. And I will now do the same with my essays.
So please be patient with me. We are entering an unknown Land. Unfamiliar to me too. Yes, I’m the one with the map. But strangely enough, I too am excited and anxious to discover what’s out there.
The title of the book is ………flying again! with this opening line “I was born with feathers in my blood.”
Carl Reiner died June 30, 2020. Two days ago. At the age of 98! He directed George Burns and John Denver in the movie “Oh, God!”. At some point I will share why this film is very special to me.
I will close with this insight imbedded in the screenplay. An insight we need right now with this Virus loose in human society.
John asks George, as God, why He doesn’t fix everything. And George responds back with the obvious.
“I gave you all you need to make things work. Now do it.”
Light of Unity
“So powerful is the light of unity that it can illumine the whole world.” -Bahai quote
“I looked ahead and saw the mountains there with rocks and forests on them, and from the mountains flashed all colors upward to the heavens. Then I was standing on the highest mountain of them all, and all around about beneath me was the whole hoop of the world. And while I stood there I saw more than I can tell and I understood more than I saw; for I was seeing in a sacred manner the shape of all shapes as they must live together like one being. And I saw that the sacred hoop of my people was one of many hoops that made one circle, wide as daylight and as starlight, and in the center grew one mighty flowering tree to shelter all the children of one mother and one father. And I saw that it was holy.”
from Black Elk Speaks by John Neihardt
President Trump will be only a short distance from Black Elk Peak in a few hours.
I wish he was able to appreciate these words, which both speak so clearly for the unity we all seek.
We are all brothers and sisters. So we are each others keepers too.
I pray as I type these words for the healing of the tortured psyche of President Trump, my brother.
Light from the Sun is invisible until It passes through the glass of a prism. From a distance, we are able to observe distinct colors. But the closer we come to a rainbow, the harder it is to define particular colors. A blending of colors into one Color.
Each of us, I think, possess a spiritual ray that The Creator, Great Mystery, Unknowable Essence has given us. The more we join our personal rays together, the more complete will be the spectrum of light.
As an artist, I am so aware of the power of natural light to see the colors of my shells.
A simple but profound metaphor from Nature. Showing us how powerful unity can be.
Written by Pink Eagle July 3, 2020
You can't sit on my shoulder. . .
Writing this July 11, 2020
“The truth will set you free - but first it will make you mad.”
A quote at the bottom of a Menard’s flyer
When the Deeps of the Pacific Ocean are explored with vehicles such as an Alvin, animals are filmed in their natural habitat. Looking healthy and robust. But when they’re brought to the surface miles above, many of them are unable to survive in this low pressure environment.
One of my blogs is about me, not being deep - but about me, being taken deep.
I seem to bring up insights that I’ve seen and collected from The Deep. But when I bring them to the surface and try to share them with others (so they can see and study them) they also fall apart.
October 15, 1987, I was taken as deep as I ever want to go. The night I was zapped. Seeing what we’d done to get The Land to be America upon and with. A knowing that brought forth all the tears I’d not yet shed from a life time of experiencing this Truth firsthand.
Mad? That’s an understatement!
I found this definition in a dictionary a long, long time ago. I offer it so you too can appreciate these fine words with me. They hit the nail on the head! I am so thankful to these people for their wonderful, insightful description. Must have gone deep too - to obtain this definition.
You can try to understand what it was like for me to see our shared history. For me, it was as if I was The Twin Towers being hit by Truth instead of two jets.
But you can’t know! You can’t know what it was like for me!
The facts I found myself compelled to read of what we did and didn’t do - were like weights that took me deeper and deeper.
Forrest Gump! How I love that movie!
That feather! That gorgeous feather. And the beautiful music which joined the feather’s flight to the feet of Forrest as he sat on that park bench waiting for a bus to take him to see Jenny.
The opening scene begins with a tiny white feather against a light blue sky drifting on the wind. Descending to the town square below.
I remember so clearly where I was when I saw this scene. I was walking down the aisle in the darkened theater to join Faye, my cousin from Battle Mountain, Nevada and her daughter Cathy. I’m seeing not only the feather floating down to the feet of Forrest, but also realizing the experience of the feather is allowing me to see what it was like for me March 17, 1993 when I had a vision for a screenplay.
The details of the vision descended like snowflakes. Drifting too. Landing at the feet of my psyche. So few I was able to catch. Yet somehow knowing that they would melt and be absorbed by the roots of the tree that is me. To return as blossoms that would in turn be pollinated and become red fruit with flesh the color of virgin snow.
But the other thing I noticed was the shoulder of a man walking by a car. The feather, for a moment, wonders if she’s to land on his shoulder. Wondering if this is where she’s to land.
Yes, the feather is female.
She almost lands there, but the wind takes her to the feet of Forrest, her true destination.
It may be the wind that directed her flight path, but she was aware! Just as I was aware as I had that vision for a screenplay the evening of St. Patrick’s Day of ’93.
It was strange for me then (and still is) how this scene was mirroring my own experience the night I had my vision.
The first scene begins with myself high above Wounded Knee just after The Massacre December 29, 1890. Snow began to fall and I see an eagle dancing with one particular snowflake. I hear beautiful music. I find myself dancing with them.
We descend. There is Black Elk standing by The Tree. The withered and dying Tree.
I ponder just like the feather did in Forrest Gump…..where are we to land on Black Elk?
I see his shoulder. I wonder, “Is that our landing strip?” Yet, somehow, I know it isn’t.
Then as I finish entering the last words of the first scene, I am finally allowed to know where we land on Black Elk.
This is why you can’t sit on my shoulder of knowing. You, like myself, must read for yourself our shared. What we did and what we didn’t do. Then you will have your own personal knowing. As I do.
“Cherish your visions and your dreams, as they are the children of your soul ………………”
Again - part of a quote I found in a Menard’s ad flyer
Not Quite Real
July 23, 2020
Not quite real….
But not quite artificial either.
It has taken me a long time to realize and then acknowledge, I am my shells.
I’m not quite White, nor am I not quite Red either.
Why I write under the name of Pink Eagle. The Red and White in me getting along, at peace.
It’s funny how the shells I form of polymer clay have, like a wise spiritual guide, helped me to see myself.
I began to recognize something unknown to me during the first Shell Fair in 2001 on Sanibel. That so often things are not one or the other. But a marriage of opposites. With many off-spring.
When I called to be allowed into the Shell Fair, I had to plead to be let in. For a shell that wasn’t a real shell was considered verboten in the show. But Gos, I thank you for saying OK. I know you were nervous about letting me in.
Gos Goslin was in charge of the artistic side of the show.
I think I need to draw you a diagram of the actual Sanibel Community Center. The inside layout. Not a painting that can speak a thousand words. But maybe a hundred at least. I’m able to sculpt but drawing is not my thing.
As you can see, there is a large entrance and lobby between the science and art exhibits.
Looks like our brain. The two hemispheres. The Logical and Intuitive. Two sides of one coin. Democrats and Republicans. Men and Women. I could go on and on.
I spent five days exposed to the obvious. My shells aching to join the science exhibits. I could almost hear them. “We are more science than art!”
That’s when I began to get it. About my shells and about me.
Sometimes something or someone is caught between opposites.
My shells were much more about science than art. But they were made of a man-made clay. Too arty to be accepted in the science division. So for five days I spent my time speaking art and science at the same time.
I’ve always been a person who wanted to belong. But I’ve found myself, trapped between opposites.
When I married a full blood Tlingit Indian from Yakutat, Alaska, my redness began to emerge. Which I must say shocked my Native husband as much as I. Not realizing Jim, himself, was also caught between two world views.
I will never forget these words he said to me. “You’re more Native than I!”
Jim thought he’d a Dutch girl. And I thought I’d married an Indian.
We began to realize it isn’t all blood. So much of who Jim and I are is about cultural identity. What defines us. Our Heart.
So it wasn’t hard for me to recognize that my shells were now facing the same dilemma. Trapped in the Lobby between Science an Art.
Why I say my shells are not quite real….and yet they aren’t quite artificial either.
Just as I’m not quite red……and yet I’m not quite White either.