Return to San Miguel de Allende, Mexico

San Miguel de Allende, Mexico

Where I've been and other stories....

Its been so long since I've really written - a life time in art retreats - literally.  

At some point, I didn't know where to begin any more.  So I'll start where I ended - my last journey.  

Two weeks ago, my family and I got back from a 2 1/2 week to Mexico.  

This included 8 days in San Miguel for the 

Tesoro del Corazon Art Retreat.

The pictures here are from my iPhone - taken at Casa Luna in San Miguel, where the retreat was held. 

The 6,000+ photos from my trip are stuck somewhere in my computer's memory, 

and I'm working on ironing out iPhoto to get access to them. 

The court yard fountain at Casa Luna.

Mexican dress and a glimpse of Casa Luna.

You'd have to be a really manly bullfighter to wear this beautiful outfit.

Corridor where the alters rested.

It is a Mexican tradition to make a small alter to remember loved ones that have passed.

The alters are set up in the days leading up to Dia de los Muertos, The Day of the Dead on Nov. 2. 

People put out flowers, traditionally marigolds, to remember loved ones.

The favorite foods and drinks of the deceased are put out for them to enjoy.  

It is believed that the souls of the dead journey here to enjoy the essence of the food, drinks and candies left for them.  

Families leave small sugared candies at the alters.  They are in many different shapes, and families buy ones that would have been enjoyed by the deceased.  

These are bought at the sugar markets that sell these tiny creations in the week or two before the event.  

This area is where breakfast and lunch were served each day during the workshop.

An area for drinks.  Melon juices are popular here.

One of the 3 areas where we had our workshops.

An area to eat and one to relax.

The owner of Casa Luna has been collecting art for over 20 years for her home and hotels.

Dinning area and the kitchen, where wonderful Mexican food was made each day!

Entry into this enchanted life.

Entrances to some of the rooms at Casa Luna.

Outside Casa Luna, you'd never know it was a hotel.

Beautiful door knockers abound in this Spanish colonial city.

On the left is part of the alter created in Villa Mirasol where I stayed with my family.  

On the right is a building decorated for the Day of the Dead celebration.

Mother's Day 2012

These pictures are from May.  

I never finished the post, due to the fact that I'm a busy mother myself - ha!!!  

A flower in my Ikat bowl, placed on a little bit of stitching from the past.

Dated fabric: reminder of a time not so long ago.

The flower is not perfect, its worn in places, a bit tattered.  

Some bruises here and there, and laugh lines.

Its like us.

Like me.

There is beauty in imperfection. Maybe more beauty in being tattered than in being perfect.

Perfect is just about impossible to achieve.

Being real, being yourself, that is a worthy goal.

Remembering Was

 Ode to Was

Was was a cat of a friend of mine.  

A very special cat, for she was involved in magical happenings in the great state of New York, in a humble home, not much different than yours or mine.  In this home a great deal of stitching occurs, along with What If-ing, some tea drinking, and the growing of things both wild and free.  Amongst the dandelions, lettuce, dye pots and cloth, roamed a mystical grey cat that wandered into the house many years ago and decided to stay.

Here, Was found a warm lap, a cozy fire place, tasty food, and the most wondrous napping places this side of the pond. The places of rest were places of magic too, with bits of cloth and thread finding a home and telling their stories.  Stories of everyday things, like stones, ripples in the water, apples, leaves and love.  Now, that love was so big, so strong, that it couldn't be contained in one little patch of Earth.  

So jude, Was's friend and path walker, started sharing the stories on a diary open to the world.  

People stopped by and took a peak at these stories, and some stayed to listen.  

A small gathering of people formed around jude and Was.

 This group shared its feelings and thoughts day to day to day, and came to know one another.  

Not the kind of knowing that happens at work, 

but the kind of knowing that happens at play, during a daydream, where ideas blossom.  

Was was there too, with the group; sometimes hiding, sometimes sleeping, and sometimes sparking new ideas.

jude believed in sharing - and so she set about to teach this group of listeners some of the ideas that she had developed over a lifetime of weaving, sewing, and story telling.  The friends drew near, and watched eagerly as each new lesson appeared.  With new ideas, came the magic, the seed that sprouted within each person and manifested in a unique experience for that person.  And there was Was, watching and guiding, giving life to new ideas, and just noticing those things in front of her.

 

The friends grew closer, and began to share their stories, experiences and art work.  

A community formed, and people in the same area began to meet each other.  

Women in Australia, began to talk.  Women from Texas, Illinois, Japan, England, and Connecticut began to talk.  Women from Seattle, Portland, Vancouver, Bend and Iceland began to talk.  And there were men too, like Joe, stitching away.  And Grace, she always had something interesting to say - or just shared her wonder and excitement in the process.  And more places than I can count.

 Then one day not so long ago, Was slipped away from us all, and continued on her journey.  

Her next life. 

Things changed a little, for the silver grey magic had moved on. 

 And the nine patch became the nine lives patch.

The ring of friendship continues. 

To jude, I offer thanks for bringing us together.  

To Was, I wish you safe travels and much love on your next journey.

For jude, a small pot to keep threads and memories.

I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart)

I am never without it (anywhere I go you go, my dear; 

and whatever is done by only me is your doing,my darling) 

I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet)

I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) 

and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you 

here is the deepest secret nobody knows 

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; 

which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide) 

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart 

I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart) 

― E.E. Cummings

Other candle links can be found with Sandra.

The cloths in these pictures are by jude.

The porcelain pixie pots, sculpture of a woman holding a cat, and small pots are by Mette and Sissel, my good friends from Santa Barbara, CA.