Friday, October 31, 2014

Happy Halloween and final day of #Inktober! This piece, "Effulgent Flux," began as a simple pen and ink drawing, so it seemed appropriate to finish off the month with and to celebrate this day of remembrance for those who have come before. May we embrace the ephemeral nature of our precious lives; may we live and love fully while we still have breath in our lungs and warm blood in our veins. 

My dear friend and ardent yogi Matt Champoux wrote a beautiful interpretation of the visual imagery of this piece, which was a delight for me to read. I love hearing what other people see in my work, especially when it is in line with what I was trying to convey. While I may not have been aware of the specific meaning of the imagery I chose, Matt's interpretation of this piece as a conversation on impermanence and the myriad variety of appearance is spot on. 

He writes, 

"This piece illustrates the twin wings of the dharma practice and the inseparability of compassion and understanding the interdependence of all phenomena. The skull powerfully us of our own ephemerality, which is the common fate for all of creation - change and impermanence. The swan shows the gentleness required as we begin our journey on the spiritual path, but it is also the true nature of all awakened beings. The swan is also a coded image referring to the unspoken mantra that rides on our breath - the japa ajapa mantra - which calls out to Shiva, or pure consciousness, as the nature of our true self.  The snake is a potent representation of the ferocity required to cut through our deluded perspectives of the conditioned mind. It is also symbolic of the primordial power of creation and harkens back to the imagery associated with tantric yoga and kundalini worship. It's venom represents the poisoned confusion of samsara, or the wheel of cyclic existence. The butterfly holding it all together reminds us of the great benevolence underlying the process of all yoga practices rooted in tradition and the fire of sincere inquiry."

In closing of this month, I'll leave you with this sweet little morsel of beauty and truth:

"You were born a child of light’s wonderful secret - you return to the beauty you have always been." - Aberjhani, Visions of a Skylark Dressed in Black. 

Thursday, October 30, 2014

#Inktober Day 30, "Silence."

"Love for the earth
and love for you are having such a long
conversation in my heart. Who knows what
will finally happen or where I will be sent,
yet already I have given a great many things
away, expecting to be told to pack nothing,
except the prayers which, with this thirst,
I am slowly learning."

-Mary Oliver

Monday, October 27, 2014

Inktober Day 27... a little owl to be finished tomorrow. 

Saturday, October 25, 2014

#Inktober Day 25, "Progeny." 

"In darkness things merge, which might be how passion becomes love and how making love begets progeny of all natures and forms. Merging is dangerous, at least to the boundaries and definition of the self. Darkness is generative, and generation, biological and artistic both, requires this amorous engagement with the unknown, this entry into the realm where you do not quite know what you are doing and what will happen next. Creation is always in the dark because you can only do the work of making by not quite knowing what you're doing, by walking into darkness, not staying in the light. Ideas emerge from edges and shadows to arrive in the light, and though that's where they may be seen by others, that's not where they're born." 

-Rebecca Solnit, from The Faraway Nearby

Friday, October 24, 2014

Inktober Day 24- a work in progress.

Thursday, October 23, 2014

#Inktober Day 23, "Luna."

"The moon turns its clockwork dream.
The biggest stars look at me with your eyes. 
And as I love you, the pines in the wind 
want to sing your name with their leaves of wire."

-Pablo Neruda, from "Here I Love You"

Monday, October 20, 2014

#Inktober Day 20, "Through the Gates."

"Perhaps the death mother like the birth mother
does not desert us but comes to tend
and produce us, to make room for us
and bear us tenderly, considerately,
through the gates, to see us through,
to ease our pains, quell our cries,
to hover over and nestle us, to deliver
us into the greatest, most enduring
peace, all the way past the bother of
beyond the finework of frailty,
the mishmash house of the coming and going,
creation's fringes,
the eddies and curlicues."

-from "An Improvisation for Angular Momentum," by A.R. Ammons

Sunday, October 19, 2014

#Inktober Day 19, "Messenger."

"My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird — equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.
Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect?
Let me keep my mind on what matters, which is my work,
which is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium. The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all ingredients are here,
which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart
and these body-clothes, a mouth with which to give shouts of joy to the moth
and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam, telling them all,
over and over, how it is that we live forever."

-Mary Oliver

Saturday, October 18, 2014

#Inktober Day 18, "Ancestor."

"Walking, I am listening to a deeper way.
Suddenly all my ancestors are behind me.
Be still, they say.
Watch and listen. 
You are the result of the love
of thousands."

-Linda Hogan

 It's so neat to see past creations of mine showing up in the world independent of me. Yoga Journal just posted a few photos of one of the leggings I designed for The Om Collection (see the rest of the article here). This was from my first foray into textile design, and I'm excited to say that I'm working on another set to be released in the near future!

Friday, October 17, 2014

Inktober from yesterday, Day 16, titled, "Sky Walker." 

While that may sound like a Star Wars reference, in this case it's referring to a dakini, a female spirit in Tibetan Buddhism. Dakini translates to "she who traverses the sky," "she who moves in space," "sky walker" or "sky dancer." Dakinis represent enlightened energy in feminine form, evocative of the movement of energy in space. Though generally of a volatile or wrathful temperament, they act somewhat as spiritual muses or inspirational thoughtforms. May we all be visited by a dakini today! 

“In the garden of gentle sanity, may you be bombarded by coconuts of wakefulness.” 

-Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Today I had the opportunity to do live art for the first time at Morning Gloryville in San Franscisco. It was a really great experience and I'm excited to do it again next month! As an artist, I end up spending so much time alone in my studio, drawing in solitude. While I love being immersed in my own mind and imagination, it was a really refreshing change to be creating in the midst of a packed dance floor, my easel shaking from the bass of DJ Rachel Torro's beats. 

In other news, here are the last few days of Inktober drawings!

In progress! 
"We do not do this easily. We have lived so long in the heaven of touch, and we maintain our mutability, our physicality, even as we begin to apprehend the other world. Slowly we make our appreciative response. Slowly appreciation swells to astonishment. And we enter the dialogue of our lives that is beyond all understanding or conclusion. It is mystery. It is love of God. It is obedience."

-Mary Oliver

Saturday, October 11, 2014

#Inktober Day 11, "Night."

Oh, and there's Night, there's Night, when wind full 
of cosmic space 
feeds on our faces...

Many a star
was waiting for you to perceive it. Many a wave
would rise in the past towards you; or else, perhaps, 
as you went by an open window, a violin 
would be utterly giving itself. All of this was

-Rainer Maria Rilke

Friday, October 10, 2014

#Inktober Day 10, "Wet With Rain." Borrowed from what may have been a song: "No Guru. No method. No teacher. Just you and I and Nature, in the garden, wet with rain." 

Thursday, October 9, 2014

#Inktober Day 9, "Rise."

Ink has always been my favorite medium, though it is an unforgiving one. It requires constant attention- one moment of lapsed mindfulness can have unalterable effects. In this way, drawing with ink is a great awareness practice. I've really been enjoying the Inktober challenge so far- thanks for all the support along the way!

"Be humble for you are made of Earth, be noble for you are made of stars." -Serbian Proverb

Wednesday, October 8, 2014

#Inktober day 8, "Root."

Sleeping In The Forest

I thought the earth remembered me, she 
took me back so tenderly, arranging 
her dark skirts, her pockets 
full of lichens and seeds. I slept 
as never before, a stone 
on the riverbed, nothing 
between me and the white fire of the stars 
but my thoughts, and they floated 
light as moths among the branches 
of the perfect trees. All night 
I heard the small kingdoms breathing 
around me, the insects, and the birds
who do their work in the darkness. All night 
I rose and fell, as if in water, grappling 
with a luminous doom. By morning 
I had vanished at least a dozen times 
into something better.

Tuesday, October 7, 2014

#Inktober day 7, "Dive." Inspired by my friend, musician Ayla Nereo, and the words she shared this mroning after visiting Lake tahoe, whose waters are low due to the drought. 

"Thank you sweet waters, for taking my prayers today, for receiving my tears of a heavy heart.

May our carelessness as a species be replaced with wonder and caretaking. May our hearts crack open to the utter perfection all around us, inherent in nature. May we protect all species so no more go extinct, with a fierce dedication to our role as beloved stewards of life. May we remember the gift of being human, and walk upright, with eyes open, and heart leading."

Learn more about Ayla here. Her music is honest, melodic, and raw. 

Monday, October 6, 2014

#Inktober day 6. 

"Life had taken everything from me. 
Everything I had & everything
I had ever known to be true.
Any tiny comfort I had ever clung to,

It was then that I began to understand
the truth.

Life is like being in a tiny boat
on the wild sea. We only have control
over two things: the way we feel in that little boat, and the direction we keep
trying to steer.

A strange smile spread across my heart
as I felt myself move to the bow if my
little vessel,
ready to rise and crash in a whole new way."

-Padhia Avocado

Sunday, October 5, 2014

‪#‎Inktober‬ day 5. Maybe this is cheating because I worked on it for more than one day, but it seemed liked a good time to unveil it. Stay tuned for a color version coming (very) soon. 

Saturday, October 4, 2014

‪#Inktober day 4. "The Offer," titled from an excerpt of poet Mary Oliver's poem, "Wild Geese." "Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting- over and over announcing your place in the family of things." 

Friday, October 3, 2014

Inktober Day 3

In the last few weeks I've happened upon numerous snakes out in the wild, and even been quick enough to catch two or three of them (just for a moment, and gently- I always let them go). After seeing a tiny sidewinding black snake quickly dash across the dirt path I was walking in Redwood Regional Park yesterday afternoon, I decided to do my next Inktober drawing of a snake. I also reflected on the meaning of the snake, and how they act as a metaphor to us, instructing us to shed our old skins when we no longer need them, showing us how to let go.

This little sketch was also inspired by a quote I recently read by author Herman Hesse about the wisdom of trees. 

"For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone. They are like lonely persons. Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche. In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfill themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves. Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree. When a tree is cut down and reveals its naked death-wound to the sun, one can read its whole history in the luminous, inscribed disk of its trunk: in the rings of its years, its scars, all the struggle, all the suffering, all the sickness, all the happiness and prosperity stand truly written, the narrow years and the luxurious years, the attacks withstood, the storms endured. And every young farmboy knows that the hardest and noblest wood has the narrowest rings, that high on the mountains and in continuing danger the most indestructible, the strongest, the ideal trees grow.
Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life.
A tree says: A kernel is hidden in me, a spark, a thought, I am life from eternal life. The attempt and the risk that the eternal mother took with me is unique, unique the form and veins of my skin, unique the smallest play of leaves in my branches and the smallest scar on my bark. I was made to form and reveal the eternal in my smallest special detail.
A tree says: My strength is trust. I know nothing about my fathers, I know nothing about the thousand children that every year spring out of me. I live out the secret of my seed to the very end, and I care for nothing else. I trust that God is in me. I trust that my labor is holy. Out of this trust I live.
When we are stricken and cannot bear our lives any longer, then a tree has something to say to us: Be still! Be still! Look at me! Life is not easy, life is not difficult. Those are childish thoughts. . . . Home is neither here nor there. Home is within you, or home is nowhere at all.
A longing to wander tears my heart when I hear trees rustling in the wind at evening. If one listens to them silently for a long time, this longing reveals its kernel, its meaning. It is not so much a matter of escaping from one’s suffering, though it may seem to be so. It is a longing for home, for a memory of the mother, for new metaphors for life. It leads home. Every path leads homeward, every step is birth, every step is death, every grave is mother.
So the tree rustles in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts: Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness."

Thursday, October 2, 2014


Every October, artists from around the world take on the Inktober drawing challenge to do one ink drawing a day for the whole month. I'm going to attempt to do the same.

Day 1 was given away as a gift before I took a photo of it, but here is Day 2, "Winged Life." It's titled after William Blake's poem:

"He who binds himself to a joy
Does the winged life destroy
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity's sunrise."

If you want to follow me on Instagram to see a daily update, you can find me at marisaaragonware. Happy Inktober!

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