Self Portraits @ MindSay

"And diamond stars shine glitter bright. Gorging your Sanhedralite... Words are falling to the floor. Glands stand pouring fruit tree. Now they glisten on the waterline... See how you are at the shore" and if you know where those lyrics are from, you are singing along with the song in my head as I review these photographs from the last three weeks.









Early this month I was honored to have Rebekah as a guest. We stayed up all night and we were lucky to wake in time before the sun went dark.

I can touch the sky over the surface of the water.



Sunlight sent rainbow shards dancing out all around us.



Rebekah looks comfy lying on the bright yellow leaves. She was like a velvet black cat pouncing all along the trees. I like how wide her eyes are here, like at any moment she was about to leap up and play.



Those yellow leaves really spoke to us. Couldn't help but let our hair loose down over the ground. The sunlight perfectly frames Rebekah's face here.



I love this drainage tunnel and how mysterious it can be. A magical juxaposition of man made material and nature. In the distance the opposite tunnel opening appears skull-like. Rebekah seems very steampunk here, her camera her mystical divining device...



Savannah was a blur of impatience struggling against the chill in the air.



Almost a week later, it was all clouds and ice and rain.



The shore is crowded with fallen leaves that seem inviting, a heavy wet blanket of color I want to dive into.



These leaves appear like barrettes in a thorny mass of branches.






All summer long I've watched these two little trees intertwine. As the green fades, the branches and leaves seem to depart and more of a portal emerges, leading to tiny places beyond.



More drops of wet bejewel the leaves.



Even without sun, the darkened birches are warmed by the orange leaves.



It was snowing here, but only barely.



The snow didn't stay. It's too early for that. Instead the wet hangs like moonstone drops all along the naked branches.



A dry day.



I can't resist playing in the leaves.



The marshland is flooded from the rain, but here the honey and marigold color of the leaves make me think it's flooded with honey and I long to get stuck in there and dream.



My favorite neighborhood weeping willow calls to me...


















I look forward to more adventures with Rebekah this Samhain weekend. The trees are always there, inviting us to play!

Under the silk, I transform, become liquid, breathe like the wind, fade and appear in and out of view, with colors changing in the light and dark.  Who am I?  Would you know me at night?  I express myself back and forth out of body, shifting my face, pinching closed my eyes, my cheeks always swollen with lost delight.  Today I wept as if I lost everything.  I just let myself drown in my tears.  Cried insane, howled, barked, cracked.  Used a whole box of tissue and wiped my face hard to remove the stains of panic and remembered disaster.  I wept like a widow contemplating the death of all men.  I cried like the Goddess in a pit of empty, hungry for lovers who have long forgotten me.  As I stretched out of bed, I reached for the camera and draped on the silk scarf, the watercolor flowers called to me, an invitation to dance, to transmit my grief and make it somehow unreal, pretended, til I can look back at myself -- the clown -- and feel the fool no more.