Heart-Light Glow/Full Flower Moon: Partial Eclipse

(Every month I participate in the Treesister’s wonderful, nourishing, Full Moon Calls and journal the experience. This month my response was more visual!)

This month we were guided to ask ourselves if we were giving from empty?
It does feel like that sometimes.
And then asked if we could fill up enough to give?
To Connect, become Open and Breathe in the Love.

What part of me is needing Love?

The part of me that does not know she is loved.
The part of me I, frankly, do not Love.
A part of me that has become so wizened and hardened, like a nut.
It is difficult to prise open.
Probably rotten inside anyhow.
The part of me I find unloveable.
Undeserving of my Love.
The part with no self discipline, the lazy, self-sabotaging self.
The part of me that does not Love itself.
And hides in it’s tough shell.
Pushing all Love away.

I can see ‘her’ now , as a cartoon figure.
Overweight, mis-shapen, slouching, bad teeth, thick glasses, cracked feet.
A fag hanging off her bottom lip. Yellowed fingers, purple skin.
An ugly, crying, needy, face.

How to embrace our short comings, our weaker selves?
Do we forgive them? Explain them, make excuses for them? Tell their story? Attempt to understand them?

Those parts of ourselves we’d rather not meet.

I said ‘Hello.’

‘She’ did not reply.

Just pretended not to hear me and blew smoke/ink in my face, obviously willing me to try again.

I was not in the mood for those games.

I moved on past.

The meditation guided us in to our Hearts.
Into our Heartbeat.
Such an incredible organ.

Recieving and Giving. Recieving and Giving.
24/7.

As I listened, I ‘saw’ an image of naked women, appearing like sea creatures, curled up in child’s pose, faces to the ground? Floating in dark matter cosmos? All with glowing, changing, skin. Skin covered in chromatophores. Like a squid or octupus. Pulsing light, in unison, in the dark. As they pulsed, a mysterious, network below them pulsed Life, thier Love Energy, all through the forest floor.

I decided to try and work with this ‘vision’ and see what happened!

I set out thinking it was going to be a pen and ink drawing …. it evolved into some rather strange, digital art experiments, which bear little resemblance to the original ‘vision’!

Like ‘sketches’ for part of a performance? Sci-fi illustrations?

Here are some of the images that resulted.

Heart-Light Glow

dandelion clock as background?
kat robertson artist
kat robertson artist

When the Yellow is on the Broom.

This is the first year that this transplanted broom has flowered like this!

Dazzling in this fine spell of weather.
(Is it just me or is the sunlight somehow drier and more intense these days? Feels tropical. Perhaps we will get more dry months like this, here on the West Coast of Scotland, as the Gulf Stream drifts and shifts ….)

Could not resist making a mandala.

Such summery JOY!

Check out the accidental ‘bee’ in the crop detail!
Can you see it?

Within this Frame of Gold.

Reminded of a poem I wrote years ago.

I have shared before, re-edited. It is buried somewhere in this ‘rolling om’.

This was the original, raw, version.

Back when I was an ‘automatic writing’ purist.

Never edit. The rule.

Take the first words, even if they do not make sense.

Let it flow.


It suprised me.



Within This Frame of Gold

Going, gorn and wasting

Everything.

Jealousy of nobody, but wearing all the wrong gear.

Clambering aimlessly toward a gaping sun in noisy abandon.

Slowly winding up the painted sky and screaming dreams of nothing.

Teeth and toes in constant turmoil, struggling with words, and sand, that stick, like saliva, to my soul.

Raining thunder and gold, the open fire cackles.

Calling children and piling paper to throw away the chewed pencil ends of culture to the waiting bird, a-preying,

Floating from the earth and carrying our limitations away to fester in the jaws of snails.

Bodies fumble, boneless, in the snake infested grass.

Sneezing quickly, gunning down the possibilities.

With the heads of tortoises they pulled in their hearts and listened only to their greed.

Trees wailed as the scar tissue grew and we picked up our spears and clubs for war.

In everyone there is an Indian, exhausted from the battle,

That screaming at the reptile skulls, ignored and angry,

will sit down and drown their own identity.

Heavy lids and worn out actions.

Golden winds and shimmering heat of winding, brick-like beating.

Mind and torso in clambering war dance.

Smelling of tannin and leaping in joy.

Rings and pockets full of envy

Green with jealousy and slow poison.

Why, when ships can pace an ocean, do the smiling reptiles seed to destroy that voting freedom?

Then plugging into mothering, feeling only sadness in the core of woven fabrics.

Oh to be an Indian in this society,

True to cyclic winds and calling,

Slowly grimacing at this torture.

The spearing, grasping, destroying,


All within this frame of gold.

Kat Robertson. 1991.

And, on the theme of ‘gold’, this was a stunning moment here on the hill.
After a dull day, just as the sun was setting, a blanket of golden Light slid under the cloud and spilled out over the land.

All the new leaves shimmered and sang.

All seemed stunned into silence and awe.

Still.

Even the birds fell quiet.

Golden.


Composing!

I was not going to add this to the blog, but in the spirit of documenting all of my creative endeavours, it might as well be shared!

I thought I’d have a go at composing a tune for my extremely, talented, musical Dad, to celebrate his 8th decade on this Earth.

It is the first time I have tried writing music.
It is a simple wee ditty.
Like me.

Many thanks to my talented, multi-dimensional artist, friend, Hannah Boaden, who used her magic software, to type set it for me!
https://soundcloud.com/hannah-boaden
https://www.facebook.com/HannahBoadenArt/

Some folk think it has a nautical feel ……. played well it does have a carefree tone.

Certainly fits with my recent experiments.
Moving ‘as Water’ through Life.

He seemed to like it.

Then I thought it might be fun to make a short video, using my best photos from May 2021 to accompany it.
Hopefully they can distract from my clumsy attempt at playing it!
Though I quite like the ‘child practising in the back room’ feel to it. It is honest somehow.
It does sound much better when he plays it on his baby grand.
His score has all the slurs and other notations hand-inked on too.
Wish I had copied that before I gave it to him.

This new old-piano was rescued from the dump this week and had a bit of a bumpy ride, from the forgotten container to here. As you can hear it has not even been tuned yet!

Our old old-piano now sits in the garden.
It has come to the end of its musical usefulness.
Lots and lots of ideas for what to create with it.

I will share a post here later ……. if it comes to anything beyond fire wood!


Growth.

Thinking alot about Growth recently.
Reading about ideas of Degrowth.
Knowing that it is less, not more, that I need now,
But not wanting to ‘send us back to the dark ages’.

I stare out of the window.
Tree teacher.

The great Oak grows up fast in the beginning.
Then pauses to thicken.
Creating Stability.

Often it looses a lower limb or two as it stretches toward the sky.
Shedding what no longer serves.

It grows slower and wider as it ages.
Putting on rings of girth.
Not only on it’s trunk, but also on it’s branches and it’s roots.
Growing in all directions!
Building strength to ensure it’s longevity.

In years of scarcity it grows less.
In years of plenty it takes all it needs.
In it’s maturity it becomes host to other, new, Life.
Ferns and fungi, lichen and mosses.

Societal progress might do well to learn from this great tree.

Societal ‘growth’ has more in common with the growth I see in the commercial, forestry, plantations.
The fast growing, conifer, trees, all planted too close together.
They rush toward the light.
Growing thin, straight and brittle.
The ground below becoming deadened.
Little thrives there, in the acid dark, to knit it all together.

And then, when the first big wind comes along,
They uproot or snap.
Collide into one another, falling like dominos.
Each taking it’s neighbour down as it falls.

Becoming worthless as a crop.
Impossible to even harvest.

No longer possible to make sense of as ‘forest’.

So Oak teaches it is not about stopping growing.
Not about degrowing.
(Although, perhaps, we could lose a useless limb or two, that no longer serve)

It is about growth in the right places, at the right time.

Allow for more Light.
Create more Space.
With Care and Foresight,
Prune away the dead, or diseased, wood as necessary.

Like all good gardeners, cultivate more Patience.
More Awareness of Resources available.
More Awareness of what grows Beneath.

This is what makes for more Resilience.

These are lessons well worth remembering now.

Not new wisdom. As ancient as the hills.

Thank You Oak for reminding me.

Kat Robertson. May 2021.

charcoal drawing, used to create animation, in its final state.
‘Tree. Growing in all directions
, as dictated by what is available to it, by the stresses it encounters

Full Pink Supermoon.

April’s Pink Supermoon from our hill in Scotland

Every month I participate in the Treesister’s wonderful, nourishing, Full Moon Calls and journal the experience.

Response/feedback to April’s Pink Full Moon Call 2021.

“Wow! What a call!
So wonderful to feel the negative ions of the falls.
On the March call I found myself at a waterfall, one that that I knew, that called me. One with a deep, dark pool.
This one was entirely different.
Lighter, brighter, in a warmer, in a more tropical place. The pool turquoise and crystal clear. My ‘clench’ appeared to be between my shoulder blades. I experienced this feeling as stubs of new wings pushing through, not with out pain.
Yes, yes, yes to everyone’s beautiful words.
Colourful birds swooped and darted through the falling water and rainbows in the mist. Like swifts, but multi-coloured. Mesmerising me. From gazing up at them I was then drawn down to my hands in the water, in the edges of the pool, fingers spread wide like frog’s feet, my pinkies, touching the pinkies of those on either side. I was naked, squatting, the shadows of fern and leaves dappling my skin. I looked across the very surface of the pool and the birds were darting down to drink and scoop up tiny mouthfuls of mud for their nest building, only to soar up again into the misty, rainbow filled air. My eyes followed them. I paint with only mud these days and smiled as I tasted the familiar taste of earth in my mouth. I often suck my brush to make a point 😉 This squat position helped to release the clench between my should blades, Dropping my head I felt another release and stretch. I also smelt myself, my woman-hood. It was primal. The squat position with the hands down in front, brought Frog into my being. Perhaps I am tadpole, not caterpillar?
A Frog Woman poised to spring into Action. This is Activate!
Toward the end of the meditation I found myself in this same squatting position under the falling water. Like I’d effortlessly leapt there. Just allowing the water to stream over my head and body. I brought my hands around to hold my backside and hugged myself this way. I actually loved the feel of my whole, curvaceous, body this way (very positive, as I struggle with my appearance and the way I look!). I became a water-carved, rounded rock.
Stayed there for a while just letting the water flow over me, soaking up the negative ions, as the sunlight and swooping birds dazzled me with their prisms of wonder.

Felt super-connected when Clare mentioned ‘new wings’ just as I was focusing on letting them through. Also the words about ‘doors in the back behind the heart’ hit a spot deep inside me.


Using words, that seem to be going out of fashion in this accelerating transition,
Deep Bow.
Thank You again Treesisters for another, deeply nourishing, Full Moon Call xx”

Kat Robertson. April 2021. 

Seismic Realizations.

Here it comes again.
Over and over, all is thrown up, stark against the Sky.
On landing, reassembled in a new and curious shape.
Disseminated.
Spread out thin across the constant, living, Ground.
Before I get a chance to catch my breath
BOOM.
It comes again.
These seismic shifts create a chaos and confusion that can only be allowed for,
And Forgiven.
Such is its Might and Power.
There is no rider. No helmsman. No pilot. No driver.
All sense of knowing as fragile as the new leaves that burst out all around.
Only fierce Love to hold on to in turbulent Times like these.

Transitioning.

Kat Robertson. April 2021.

(video created by scattering mustard seed on the skin of a drum and banging it. Audio only what resulted when the video was slowed down.)

kat robertson artist

Playing in Mud again.

Sick of going ‘roon and roon’ with the mandalas and needing to connect with my, creative, inner child.
So it was no real suprise to find myself playing in mud again.
I get so lost in it.
It fits every need in me.
Just soil/earth and water. Nothing else.
And so giving. Endless possibilities.
This time I have been exploring printing techniques.
I am very excited by some of the effects created, but still have little control over them!
The print dictates the image, rather than having a plan!
Earth speaks through the medium.

I make a mono-print and then ‘draw out’, by simply moving ‘earth about’, what image I see ‘sleeping’ in the shapes made.

This mud art is very difficult to photograph well,
All these experiments are done on white paper, even using photoshop editing on them is prooving difficult.
It is impossible to simply replace background on these as much of the subtlety is lost, and, in some instances, seemingly impossible to loose ‘the blue’ of white paper.

To the best of my ability I have reproduced these images as true to their real appearance as possible!

kat robertson artist
Initial first experiments with printing in mud.

This print below has to be my favorite.
(See the top picture in this post, top left, for a truer idea of the colours and subtle texture in the mud, after applying linseed oil fix.)
This wee mud fairy was clearly calling to be ‘drawn out’ of the mud!

I have been experimenting with adding pigments/fixatives to the mud.
But this does not work.
The pigment stains the paper in a way that then does not allow further, effective, manipulation of the mud before it dries, which is more than half the fun!
I discovered (during the creation of Delta State) that I can add pigment to the dried, finished, piece if I require it.
I am also experimenting with some alternative fixing methods, as I feel these prints loose a lot of texuture when the linseed oil is applied.
More muddy experimenting to follow!

kat robertson artist

Full Worm Moon

Every month I participate in the Treesister’s wonderful, nourishing, Full Moon Calls and journal the experience.
This month I was astonished to recieve this as a kind of answer to my previous blog post! Divine Timing!


Full Worm Moon Meditation March feedback

‘Finally got around to listening (that somehow feels like the wrong word!? ‘Joining’ also feels a little strange, as the ‘event’ had passed ….. ‘participating’ sounds too active …..actively receiving?? ;D)
I was a mess.
A proper sludgey, cannot-get-out-of-bed, mess.
Of course the usual Earth layers, human suffering layers, but also family layers and re-awakened past trauma layers. A total ‘crisis of self’ kind of eurgh …… crying and not knowing ….. totally undone. All seemed utterly pointless. I was also resisting all that I know is good for me, typical  when I get like this. Unable to create, unable to meditate, unable to even go for a walk….I even considered calling the GP and asking for some big pharma cocktail to shut my over wound mind down, (those who know me know how very non-typical this is!), but some small voice whispered to me that I could listen to the Full Moon Call.
Treesisters, I cannot thank you enough! This guided meditation turned everything around!! Just like that!!

The landscape took a while to come clear ….. I ‘wanted’ beaches, palms and Indian blue sea, then, when that did not stick, I ‘wanted’ Himalaya, that also did not stick… then, breathing into it and letting go, I found myself in an old childhood haunt.
A stunning (actually very dangerous!) gorge and waterfall, located on my father’s farm land (some real, poetic, sense in this given part of what I was struggling with) A mossy, temperate rainforest, ‘hole in the ground’ created by eons of water carving the rock, all covered by a canopy, dome, of oak. A place where as a child I wandered, often, talking to the fairies/spirits there. (My parents had no idea!!) There are some local stories told about this place. Many say the pool is bottomless, the dark, swirling, pool at the base of the waterfall, some say there are monsters that dwell far down in the deep. I have swum there once or twice, but it is difficult to ignore the feeling that ‘something’ may be down there looking up at you, such is the power of this place!!
In the meditation I was called to enter the water and dive.
Down and down I swam. The swirling noise all left behind, the amber light dimming above, darker and darker it got. I found I could breathe and only wanted to go deeper…..deeper …. seeking the monsters? To get to the bottom of things?
A clear ‘voice’ said “Why do you do this Kat? Dive deeper and deeper? Don’t you know it is bottomless!!? There are actually no monsters, but you do know, don’t you, that you will never find what it is you are seeking? It will only get darker and darker and colder and colder. Why do you do this? Swim so determinedly away from away from the Light? Stop trying so hard!! Stop swimming!!”
So I stopped
(I have recently seen ‘The Shape of Water’ and I saw myself like that, suspended, held by the water.)
Of course, I began floating up!
Slowly, slowly, I floated to the surface toward the Light. With no effort at all..
This pool is naturally formed with a kind of rocky ‘edge’ that stops everything just getting swept along into the river, and I simply lay on my back, floating, my ears, being underwater, dulled the roar of the falls, and I floated, my front in dappled sunlight, gazing up through the branches at blue sky above, my back to the cold and dark below. I was swirled by the eddies to this side of the pool and then over to the other, a light touch of the mossy bank was all it took to propell me back into the centre, spinning me around.
I stayed like that for quite a while….just floating.
This is a long story, but I wanted to share as the effect has been so powerful! I now am using the simple words “Just float!” everytime I feel that familiar twinge of anxiety that I seem so strangely fond of then weaving into a basket of misery for myself.
I find I can vicerally, physically, recall the moment of letting go from the meditation and then feel myself gently being taken back up toward the Light!
This meditation gifted me a tool I can really use!
It is a simple tale, but it has taken many words…..
Thank You again Treesisters/Clare …. this time I can honestly report this meditation may even have been a lifesaver …… such was the darkness of that day ….. xx AHO!’

Kat Robertson. March Full Moon 2021.

The falls of my childhood and it’s bottomless pool. Last revisited 2015.

Roon and roon this ragged rock …..

My oldest son was taken into hospital this week and required emergency surgery to remove adhesions on his gut, so all in all a very worrying time.
Feeling somewhat lost and all ‘washed up’ I turned to my mandalas this March.
The process comforting and, sometimes, rewarding.
Exploring new ways to construct them, to somehow loosen the geometric hold of them, all the while procrastinating, putting off more serious commitments.
Quite a crop!
Some are more satisfiying than others…..

(click on first image in each gallery to view full size with title)

wet willow mandalas

hyacinth mandalas

aloevera mandalas

lichen mandalas

I saw my first bumble bee this month enjoying the shining crocuses golden pollen!

kat robertson artist

bumblepollen mandalas

random one off mandalas

sphagnummoss mandalas
Decided that to compare techniques I’d make a selection using the same image. I have always found mosses and lichens to be a favorite form to mandalize and very plentiful here.

daffodil mandlas
A daffodil is the perfect natural, 6 point, ‘flower of life’ mandala anyway!
I find more Beauty in the real flower than could ever be contained in these artifical, symmetrical, manipulated forms though …… yup, having a mandala crisis too!!!