Become A Lake

After a challenging week, this story came my way...exactly, as needed.  I did a quick watercolor sketch based on memories of sitting by Lake Ontario, water of my birth, to serve as a visual reminder for myself of this parable:

An aging Hindu master grew tired of his apprentice complaining, so one morning the master sent his apprentice for some salt.

When the apprentice returned, the master instructed the unhappy young man to put a handful of salt in a glass of water and then drink it.

“How does it taste?” the master asked.

“Bitter,” spit the apprentice.

The master chuckled and then asked the young man to take the same amount of salt and put it in the lake. The two walked in silence to a nearby lake, and once the apprentice swirled his handful of salt in the water, the old man said, “Now drink from the lake.  As the water dripped down the young man’s chin, the master asked, “How does it taste?”

“Much fresher,” remarked the apprentice.

“Do you taste the salt?” asked the master.

“No,” said the young man.

At this, the master sat beside the young man who so reminded him of himself and took his hands, offering, “The pain of life is pure salt, no more, no less. The amount of pain in life remains the same, exactly the same. But the amount of bitterness we taste depends on the container we put the pain in. So when you are in pain, the only thing you can do is to enlarge your sense of things...Stop being a glass. Become a lake.”

“Become A Lake”, © 2012 Cathy Gazda, 6.5” x 10”, Watercolor.  ♥

The Chapel - Sketch

When we first moved to Sedona, 25 years ago, we lived in ‘The Chapel’ neighborhood for the first couple of years. 

“The Chapel of The Holy Cross” is a popular tourist destination and was practically in our backyard.  Conceived and built by Marguerite Bruswig Staude back in 1956, it’s a remarkably beautiful structure and architectural feat, set within the red rocks. 

Although the local St. John Vianney parish maintains the building, it’s not used for religious services and is truly a wonderful place for people of any faith (or non-faith) to sit in quiet meditation or reflection.  

Since 1956, millions of visitors have spent time in The Chapel, and many prayers have been offered in that space.  It has literally imbued the land and the building with a peace that is palpable. 

On days when I felt frazzled, I’d walk up the hill to spend a few minutes in the healing sacred silence.  This is a pencil sketch I did back then on crescent board. 

“The Chapel - Sketch”, © 2012 Cathy Gazda, 5” x 7”, Graphite.  ♥

Mountain Ayre

The beautiful, and sacred, San Francisco Peaks as viewed from the Mountainaire region in Flagstaff, Arizona. 

These mountains have been known, and were named in other languages, by the 13 Native American tribes who revered their sacred qualities long before the Spanish monks and Anglo settlers referred to them as ‘The Peaks’.  

These sister summits are a beacon, visible for 100 miles in every direction. 

Their song holds powerful healing medicine, on so many levels.  A distant view of The Peaks will flood me with peace-filled solace.  Lying under her aspen trees, or in one of her many meadows, brings me ‘to center’ instantly. 

“Mountain Ayre”, © 2012 Cathy Gazda, 6” x 8”, Acrylic on canvas paper.  ♥

Eclipse Encore

Last night Paul and I conveniently, and comfortably, watched the annular eclipse from our rooftop. 

Even though the eclipse was only partial here in Sedona, it made for quite a spectacular pre-sunset. 

Even the cattle recently down from the north, out on the Forest Service open range land, seemed to find it exciting, judging from the loud mooing that arose at different stages.  

Just before the peak of the partial eclipse, everything became very quiet.  Even the birds stopped singing.  The lighting took on a very ethereal quality, quite different from normal, as the moon’s shadow ‘almost’ covered the sun completely. 

At that point, the cows broke out into a chorus of moos. Personally, I think they were calling for an encore.

“Eclipse Encore”, © 2012 Cathy Gazda, 12” x 12”, Acrylic on stretched canvas.  ♥

Hereford Mama

The cattle are down from the north to graze in the open range, many of them with adorable calves ambling alongside. 

Often, several of them will find a gap in the boundary fence and make their way through the neighborhood, eating as much of the delectable plantings from yards and gardens as they can before "Dusty" (our local wrangler) herds them on back to national forest land. 

Usually, they are very timid, like this Hereford mama who kept a watchful eye on me, while her calf was udder feeding. When her calf was done, they both came over to say 'hello'...mooing sweetly to each other, and to me.

“Hereford Mama”, © 2012 Cathy Gazda, 8.5” x 9.25”, Pencil.  ♥

A Rose, Cicero's, Cicero's, Cicero's

I love ‘stream of consciousness’ journeys when our minds start out with one train of thought and end up somewhere completely different.  

My mind drifted along a stream of poetry, during the time I painted this simple rose.

Lines of poems kept running through my mind, beginning with ‘a rose by any other name’ from Shakespeare’s ‘Romeo and Juliet’...which then morphed into Gertrude Stein’s ‘a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose’ (from her poem, ‘Sacred Emily’). 

From there, my mind traveled back to a mid-70s performance by Toronto sound poets ‘The Four Horsemen’ (Steve McCaffrey, the late bp Nichol, Rafael Barreto-Rivera and Paul Dutton)...reciting a poem written by Steve McCaffrey titled ‘Latin Lines: for Gertrude Stein’.

I wish a recording of their performance could accompany this painting...as no description can capture the exquisite brilliance of this simplest of poems or the vitality of their performance: 

“A Rose ... Cicero’s ... Cicero’s... Cicero’s...”  repeated over and over, so what began as ‘A Rose’, ended with ‘Cicero's’ and sounded like 'a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose'. 

“A Rose, Cicero’s, Cicero's, Cicero's" (hat tip to sound poets, The Four Horsemen)
© 2012 Cathy Gazda, 5” x 5”, Acrylic on stretched canvas.  ♥

A Peak Sunset

A spectacular sunset and unobstructed views for miles around...moments like this make you take a deep breath.  I guess that’s where the word ‘breathtaking’ comes from.  

There are a multitude of reasons the San Francisco Peaks in Flagstaff, Arizona are sacred to so many...they hold space for all...for at least 100 miles in every direction. 

No matter which way I journey, when I can see The Peaks (in this case, still 70 miles away), it feels like I’m almost home. 

“A Peak Sunset”, © 2012 Cathy Gazda, 8” x 8”, Acrylic on canvas paper.  ♥