the goddess project

goddess #52

2010-08-23T18:58:00.000-07:00

no sunbathers here today

only rain and surf

washing the ancient rocks that line the shore.

fifty-two weeks ago

on a bright sunny day
the first goddess found her place

way down the other end of the beach.

today her sister sits in the rain.

same beach, only different

same ocean, only different

same goddess, only different

same me, only different.

the goddesses, the weeks, the places

dissolve into one another

like this goddess

dissolving into the wet greyness

of rocks and sea and sky.

goddess #51

2010-08-16T19:23:00.000-07:00

rain threatens today

not the devastating floods drowning pakistan,

nor the downpours succeeding drought and fire in russia,

nor any of the other numberless disasters across the globe.

just a polite new england rain

washing clean the puddingstone,

falling on the plastic bags, food wrappers, and assorted debris

scattered by the weather front known as homo sapiens.

in a thousand years

will we still be here?

casting about our stuff?

seeing only ourselves?

or will have learned to breathe with the body of the earth?

to see with the eyes of all beings?
in a thousand years will we finally understand with the mind of all that is?

goddess #50

2010-08-10T06:25:00.000-07:00

business is booming here at the dunkin'

in the state of "live free or die".

but i'm drawn past the edge where the mowing ends

and the weeds grow high,

thinking that "live free and die" is perhaps more apt,

since the "dying" part is really not optional,

and the "living free" part is easier said than done.

and i think of janice singing 'bout how

"freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose."

and i think perhaps she's right -

how slowly divesting,

letting go of things -

of ideas

of what's right and wrong

important

necessary

essential

safe or dangerous -

makes it just a little easier

to walk past the edge

and sit among wild blackberries

listen to cicadas

and enjoy the goldenrod brilliant against the summer sky.

goddess #49

2010-08-03T06:51:00.000-07:00

some urban artist assembled sheet metal

carving out ciphers on this hillside,

then erected sentinels to watch over the weeds as they grew,

softening the edges of the steel-framed beds.

i imagine squashes growing here,

their golden blossoms bright among eggplants, tomatoes, cukes and kale,

nourishing this neighborhood on the other side of the tracks.

i see pumpkins ripening in the sun,

peas and beans adorning the chain link fence,

and a woman, young and vibrant, who perished nearby -

wiped out as she pedaled home some years ago.

she would have smiled to see a garden growing.

goddess #48

2010-07-26T18:49:00.000-07:00

sisters - separated by endless loops of razor wire that sparkle in the sun

me - free to come and go, to make the countless small decisions that determine my life

you - confined by endless rules and the barked commands of crackley loud speakers,

indecipherable to me, but understood by you, the result of long practice and necessity.

and yet, we are the same.

it could have been me on your side of the wire if causes and conditions had been different.

it could have been you on this side.

and so we breathe slowly, in and out

sense our bodies sitting here, alive in this very moment

and learn to be free and to know that we are one.

goddess #47

2010-07-19T18:45:00.000-07:00

a beaver dam dressed in green -

strawberries, blueberries, moss, and ferns.

the lake three feet above where i stand with an eerie sense

of the built and the unbuilt.

earlier mineral hard land gave way to delicate new ferns, then rich forest humus . .

then opened to this vista of water, lilies, and trees.

i am touched by tiny winged beings

and remember how many of them there are compared to us -

some incredible number of times our biomass-

and i can only stop
and breathe it all in

as an inchworm makes her way across my page.

goddess #46

2010-07-12T20:01:00.000-07:00

a pause

in this day that cycles between downpour and brilliance

the kind of day where there might be a rainbow

but isn't

only the wet lushness of green moss

mist rising from the earth

and a thousand other shades of green

gladdened by the arrival of sudden storms.

goddess #45

2010-07-05T13:32:00.000-07:00

geese inhabit the parking lot this morning

"school's out for summer"

or at least the day after the 4th of july.

here at the edge of the marsh

i celebrate interdependence . . .

bird calls reverberate in my heart,

sun warms my skin,

i breathe in as all around me exhales . . .

a dragonfly flashes a brilliant wing as it lights

and small creatures everywhere go about their business

of keeping life going.

goddess #44

2010-06-28T15:07:00.000-07:00

it's peaceful here at world's end

despite images of ships sailing over the edge into terra incognita

despite the echo of Eliot's "not with a bang but a whimper"

and the sudden vision of black, thick, gooey water snuffing out life.

an ancient oak patiently engulfs a stoney outcrop,

cries of children and running feet break the silence and fade away,

a myriad of tiny creature deconstruct a fallen branch, returning it to the earth.

all this is true

here at the end of the world

all this, and everything else in this moment -- in every moment.

goddess #43

2010-06-21T20:08:00.000-07:00

another goddess lived near here

before the winter

before the rains and the ice and the snow

watching as the leaves turned brilliant, then fell

watching as branches became ink strokes brushed across cold winter sky,

watching as they softened into red, then green then burst into leaf.

and now, as spring turns into summer

she is gone

disappeared without a trace

only memories remain

and the sound of the water

and birds conversing in the trees.

may we cherish what is and know it is forever transforming.

goddess #42

2010-06-15T06:42:00.000-07:00

my path today

took me along one i walked quite often

some twenty years ago

in a different body

less saggy and wrinkled . . .

but still i delight in the call of a robin

and the soft curve of a chipmunk disappearing under a log,

in ducks and ducklings gliding past yellow pond lillies.

alive with sound there is silence,

amidst constant movement, stillness

in this green leafy refuge.

may we all know we are gloriously alive in each and every moment

goddess #41

2010-06-07T17:34:00.000-07:00

within sight of two windmills

birds sing

crickets chirp

and geese swim in stately rows.

no gobs of oil lurk in these glistening waters.

yet all the seas are one sea

and just last week the smoke of fires hundreds of miles north dimmed our skies.

oh, what will we do with our one precious world.

(with thanks to Mary Oliver)

may we know that the earth is our body, the waters our blood, and the air our very life.

goddess #40

2010-05-31T12:26:00.000-07:00

anger unleashed

lashes out to destroy.

malicious mischief

brings no peace.

not to the maker, nor to the marked

nor to those who walk by

wondering where the family has gone.

may we learn to care tenderly for our anger
before we inflict harm on ourselves or on others.

goddess #39

2010-05-24T09:40:00.000-07:00

monday morning, 8:23, new york city

how can there be so many people

toting brief cases

bags

cups of coffee

each intent

purposeful

on a mission

each keeping his or her earth in its proper orbit

as do i

sitting here

sipping coffee

watching.

may we all find more opportunities to let our worlds collide

and break away from our ideas of how things are.

goddess #38

2010-05-17T12:26:00.000-07:00

out behind winn dixie

steps from the blacktop

wilderness lives.

palms, grapevines, and wild blackberry

prevail over the discarded debris of civilization,

reclaiming the land for us all.

may we grow ever more thankful

for the nature of earth to renew herself,

and find ways to nurture renewal in ourselves

and in the world.

I have always loved the boundaries of civilization, the narrow places where wildness and civilization collide . . . the weeds that sprout from the cracks in the sidewalk, the vacant lot vibrant with plant life and the cast-off things of city life . . . today a short teaching arrived in my inbox at around the same time I was finding a home for this goddess . . .it's called "See the Wild in the Made".

goddess #37

2010-05-11T05:50:00.000-07:00

mysterious pathway

wide . . . grassy

bounded by stone walls carefully shaped and placed

here in this final jewel of the necklace.

a carriage road perhaps

from some earlier time

when people dressed and rode in carriages

to visit a museum of the natural world.

may we dwell in nature

know we are nature

and may our hearts delight

in the beauty of the world.

goddess #36

2010-05-04T07:25:00.000-07:00

tall pine

mossy outcrop

sky bright to dark, just like that . . .

and now the eerie light

that signals the end of rain

or an immanent downpour.

what lies ahead?

impossible to say

just this perfect moment

teetering on the edge.

may we enjoy each moment giving way

to the uncertainty of the next.

goddess #35

2010-04-26T19:04:00.000-07:00

here, amongst puddingstone boulders

bordering VFW parkway

i think of ben, soon off to afghanistan.

and tack, a man with twinkling eyes

and a smile that lit up the world

haunted 40 years later

by the things he saw in the jungles of vietnam.

and another

who i shared my life with for a few short weeks so many years ago,

who woke shaking in the night

from dreams of war.

to all who go to war, willing or unwilling

may you be safe in body and mind.

may you neither kill nor be killed.

may you neither maim nor be maimed.

may you remember that those you fight are no different than you

that they, like you, want only for themselves and their loved ones

be safe, happy, and to be able to live peacefully on this earth.

goddess #34

2010-04-20T06:08:00.000-07:00

jagged rocks,

barely worn over eons of time.

water moving past mossy bank,

swift, then slow, then swift again.

everything growing, falling, decaying, growing again.

everything noting the passage of time on its own scale.

rock, tree, human, mosquito -

life measured in an instant or an eon,

all precious, all impossibly brief,

all just enough.

goddess #33

2010-04-12T19:38:00.000-07:00

i've been dreaming

of things taken away

and been surprised at the

anger that has arisen

in this dreaming self.

this morning i seem to understand better

this Kwan Yin behind barbed wire.

Pouring compassion for all of us humans

who want to let go

and yet build fences.

"may all being be free of craving and the roots of craving"

goddess #32

2010-04-05T19:30:00.000-07:00

I walk the Fens

this gentle spring morning

pondering questions of art and power

. . . then sitting on the bank

trees greening and blooming

listening to a symphony of birds

questions dissolve . . .

and all that remains

are sunshine, song, and the touch of the breeze.

may all beings arrive in the present moment . . .

goddess #31

2010-03-30T07:49:00.000-07:00

along alewife brook

water pours from sodden earth

at the pond

trees that normally edge the shore

stand two feet deep in water

. . . and still it rains.

climate change

fact not fiction

the question

not can we stop or reverse it

but can we slow it and adapt

and avoid arriving on our own endangered species list?

goddess #30

2010-03-22T19:54:00.000-07:00

leaden skies

cold rain

sheltering under the bridge

i remember Jim

awakening in his nest of blankets

as i pedaled past

sharing a wave and a smile

tentatively at first, later with ease.

until one day he was gone,

blankets, smiles, and all.

My bike path to work used to take me under a bridge across the muddy river. Most mornings Jim was there, just waking up as I passed. On fine days it seemed like the most beautiful place to live in Boston, but of course that was just me romanticizing -- i know that the reality of living without a home is harsher than I can even imagine. Jim and I slowly developed a routine of greeting over the course of a year or two, and then he was just gone. I think of him often and am grateful for our fleeting connection. Today I found this small tree, clinging to the stonework of the bridge -- another example of the tenacity of life.

goddess #29

2010-03-16T04:35:00.000-07:00

abandoned husks of war remain

on this point of land jutting into chesapeake bay

now a refuge for birds and butterflies

in need of rest on their journey

from north to south

and back again.

may all beings find refuge.

Goddess #29 sits quite close to this bunker, built during WWII it housed 16-inch guns, then was turned over to the air force and served as a radar installation until 1981. It is now a wildlife refuge, that according to the National Wildlife Service, "is considered one of the most important migratory bird concentration points along the East Coast." It seems that millions of migratory birds travel down along the East Coast and then stop here before they find favorable winds so that they can safely cross Chesapeake Bay. In September, I am told, Monarch butterflies pass through in such numbers that the trees appear to be blooming with orange flowers. Goddess #29 overlooks this marsh. Although it was raining when I was there, and few creatures were in view, it was wonderful to feel the peace of the marsh, and to see the crumbling cement bunkers in the process of transforming back into the natural landscape.

goddess #28

2010-03-08T18:45:00.000-08:00

there's sacred beauty in the cypress grove . .

raptors gliding through brilliant blue

their strident cries shattering the hush below.

thin shaggy trunks reach skyward with graceful limbs festooned in a rag-tag of gray-green wisps

and a sudden surprise of red maple wings.

below a multitude of greens and myriad textures -- now wet, now dry -- underfoot.

and cypress knees, evoking ancient forms and spirits

that words cannot begin to describe.

goddess #27

2010-03-01T16:05:00.000-08:00

puffs of spring

orange and pink

bloom amidst the brown remain of winter

may we welcome

the passing seasons of the year

and the passing seasons of our lives.

Here in Florida, I am spending lots of time with my mom and her friends. She is in her mid-eighties and is the youngest of her pals . . . It is wonderful to see how full of life they all are . . . involved in all kinds of activities -- they are regulars at the symphony, chamber concerts, opera, ballet, Shakespeare and contemporary theater performances . . . they visit the art museums and festivals, work at the pottery studio, go to exercise class, political discussion groups, and yiddish classes. . . they play bridge, poker, scrabble, and mah jong. With walkers, canes and other assistive devices they carry on, helping each other past barriers physical and mental . . . repeating themselves until understood when hearing aids fail . . . they are there for each other as they lose spouses, friends, and loved ones. . . I am moved to awe and inspired by their intrepid spirits . . . may we all age so gracefully among loving friends.

goddess #26

2010-02-22T18:28:00.000-08:00

shingle creek

flows south

filling the everglades

teeming still with life.

even here

white ibis

flocks of robins

anhinga

are reflected in the slow moving water

and finches flit

from branch to branch

amidst drapes of spanish moss.

life continues in its myriad forms

Tucked behind suburban homes I walked along a small canal, its banks alive with robins, cardinals, and small finches filling the air with birdsong . . . later i found this small, green, wet lushness . . . home to family of wading ibis . . . shingle creek comprises the headwaters of the everglades . . . a fact learned from markers along the beachline, the major east-west roadway connecting orlando to the kennedy space center . . .this goddess, with heart wide open, embraces all of the creatures living in her new environment . . . later, walking back to my car i found this great blue heron, peacefully fishing at the edge of the water.

goddess #25

2010-02-15T18:55:00.000-08:00

sky, a cloudless blue

at this intersection of

synagogue, mosque, and church

palms rustle

birds sing

peace is here today

may we recognize our common humanity

celebrate our cultural differences

and cultivate peace in ourselves

and peace in the world.

The first time I went to the Jewish Community Center to check out the gym, my mom told me to turn at the mosque . . .when I made the turn I noticed that a fundamentalist Christian Church was across the street . . . I later learned that the mosque and JCC cooperate by offering each other additional parking when one or the other had an event . . . it seems wonderful that in this small corner of the world people of various religious orientations worship so close together, that they are able to interact constructively, and hopefully learn that each is ultimately human, with the same hopes and dreams for happiness, safety, and health for themselves and their loved ones.

goddess #24

2010-02-08T16:54:00.000-08:00

feathery clouds meander across blue sky

hawks circling lazily

and below people walk listlessly

past sunshine coin laundry

forgotten neighborhood

bordering spanking new downtown

sports complex-university-cultural-center

and acres of parking for suburban visitors.

may we open our eyes to see all of humanity without fear

The area near the clay studio where I work is a study in contrasts . . . to get there I drive past a still-under-construction major sports complex, a new technical university, a major theatre complex and the existing home of the Orlando Magic . . . just blocks away, across the tracks, are crumbling homes, vacant lots, and homeless people wandering the streets toting backpacks, shopping carts, and plastic bags. . . people on the fringes, invisible for the most part to those attending events in the stadiums and theatres nearby. . . it makes me wonder how many people could be housed and fed with just the money allocated to the new video screen on the new sports complex.

goddess #23

2010-02-01T15:57:00.000-08:00

ferns spread amongst cypress knees,

beneath palms and drapes of spanish moss

a breath of wild

a place to stop

beside a busy road. . .

may we remember to breathe peace in the midst of our busy lives.

Driving along Central Florida Parkway, lined with bedroom communities - gated and ungated - I noticed a stand of cypress draped in spanish moss . . . the earth was carpeted with ferns, and palms emerged from the undergrowth . . . highway trash littered the ground but the lush foliage camouflaged it for the most part. It was an oasis of peace despite the cars and trucks that roared and rushed along the road just a few yards away.

goddess #22

2010-01-25T17:07:00.000-08:00

scarred by development

gouged by greed

the sub-tropical landscape lies barren

wildness awaiting replacement with

tended foliage

parking lots

attractions,

and towering condos.

still the red bird sings in the tree

and the great blue heron soars above.

may we learn to be happy with exactly what is happening in this one precious moment.

Just arrived in Florida, I am struck, yet again, by the incredible pace of development. Places still wild on my last visit are now vacation condos, strip malls, and parking lots. Remaining wild spaces have "for sale" signs prominently displayed. Yet wildlife appears still to thrive -- water birds wade in irrigation ditches and songbirds sing in trees and brambles.

goddess #21

2010-01-19T06:48:00.000-08:00

Gray day

wet snow

stillness of New England winter.

Some 2600 kilometers south,

in tropic heat

bodies decompose,

crushed, smothered.

Hundreds of thousands lost as earth flexed muscle and bone,

no longer steady or firm.

My heart shatters into a hundred thousand shards

that pierce my flesh,

transforming into light

scattering in a billion directions.

Finally, only emptiness remains.

May our hearts be open to the suffering and the joy.

goddess #20

2010-01-11T19:19:00.000-08:00

cattails in the snow

birds calling softly against a background

of cars rushing by

stillness in the midst of clamor.

may all being dwell in the stillness

Behind route 1 in Dedham, a commercial artery jammed with stores and traffic, lies a peaceful waterway, part of the Charles River, that zig-zags back on itself and spreads out in parts into marsh filled with cattails. I've canoed these waters, meeting blue herons, turtles, red-winged blackbirds, and other creatures of the wild. Amazingly, this natural world exists just yards away from traffic and commerce, a peaceful oasis in an otherwise suburban landscape.

goddess #19

2010-01-07T09:54:00.000-08:00

This life is the gift of the whole universe ...

the earth, the sky, and much loving action.

May I live it in mindfulness, aware of the universe flowing through me.

May I learn to live with moderation, taking what is needed, giving freely.

May I live in a way that nourishes and supports my life, and the lives of my loved ones, my community, all living beings, and the earth.

I accept this life with gratitude and undertake to grow in love, compassion, and understanding, and to serve all beings."

with profound grtatitude to Thich Nhat Hanh and all of my teachers

Walking the paths of Insight Meditation again was both familiar and different. Deep snow had smoothed the way underfoot, blanketing the rocks and roots, demanding a different kind of awareness - to the crunch of packed snow on trodden paths and the swish through new-fallen snow carefully feeling for secure footing.

I had placed goddess #19 on Monday in a tree that called to me with a skin of beautifully colored bark . On Tuesday, as I passed the choice seemed unwise . . . just a bit too exposed and vulnerable, so I moved her to a to a nest within the spires of exposed wood in the remains of a fallen tree.

My treks also took me past the place where goddess #2 lives. It was lovely to revisit her, and to notice that some kind soul had moved her to a new spot, higher in the tree trunk than where she originally stood. She seemed quite content in her snow covered perch.

I am so grateful to have had this time of quiet meandering through the snowy woods -- the sudden rush of wild turkeys taking flight from trees overhead, the flash of red and cackling call as woodpeckers went about their business of recycling the forest, and the everchanging color of light reflecting off of snow.

goddess #18

2009-12-28T06:32:00.000-08:00

Marsh frosted over,

fingers numb

The sky brightens

setting aglow the tips of the trees.

"may all beings find peace in the midst of suffering"

The last few weeks has been a time in which many dear friends have been seriously ill, more than I remember being ill at any one time in the past. It has made me acutely aware of suffering and the need to cultivate the peace and stability necessary to be with suffering and to offer healing energy to those who suffer. This goddess too has known suffering. She stands on the frozen marsh - frigid but beautiful - bathed in the warm glow of the morning sun. May all be safe, healthy, and live with ease -- and may we be open to both the suffering and the joy as we enter the new year.

goddess #17

2009-12-21T12:44:00.000-08:00

snow blowing in brilliant sunshine

this shortest day of the year

soon the sun will begin it's slow return to the north

and the days will begin to grow again . . .

ah, impermanence!

"may we dwell happily in the changing nature of all things"

It's 3 pm and the sun is beginning to set on this solstice evening. It's the first day of winter and yet it heralds the beginning of longer days . . . albeit lengthening at a snail's pace for the next several weeks. This goddess wanted to go someplace high, perhaps to see the last rays of the sun as it sets, so I took her to the top of Lars Anderson Park. She stands there in the snow, amongst the spreading branches of an ancient maple, looking over the landscape. The goddess, the day, the snow, reminded me of the constant change that underlies all experience . . . how new life arises only as the old passes away, that one breath is followed by another, in-breath by out-breath, life by death, then life again. Even our heart cells are replaced -- with about half of the heart’s muscle cells exchanged in the course of a lifetime!

goddess #16

2009-12-14T15:46:00.000-08:00

for Ben and Ted

december thaw

behind the convent

where you used to sing

my heart melts thinking of you

my teachers, my brothers, my friends . . .

may you be well . . .

may all being know how to love and be loved . . .

I recently learned that my friend Ben was seriously ill. He and Ted had moved away some time ago and I had not been in touch for quite some time. They had both been important mentors when I first began going to Boston Old Path Sangha, not only as friends and brothers in the practice, but as luminous examples of how to love well and be loved . . .

I decided to plant a goddess in their honor near where they lived on Fort Hill. The ideal place seemed to be behind St. Margaret's Convent, near their former house and where they loved to sing with the nuns. When I arrived I found that the garden was inaccessible, but I climbed up next to the fence and placed this goddess . . . one who seems to be soaring . . . in a tree that I could reach through the fence. Unfortunately she fell and lost both her arms. I decided to take this as an example of her indominatable spirit and ability to overcome adversity . . . and replanted her at the foot of the same tree . . . without arms, bloody but unbowed, and still soaring . . .

goddess #15

2009-12-08T06:34:00.000-08:00

"snow in the sugar bowl

sled tracks remain

children's laughter lingers . . .

may we remember to touch the joy of playing

in this life and in this world."

Just the day before the hillside was alive with the happy sounds of children sliding down the snowy slopes enjoying the first real snowfall of the season . . . it was quiet on Monday, but the memory made me smile . . . it seemed an ideal place for a goddess who remembers how to play in this world. I am trying to play more and cultivate light-heartedness and joy in myself, in other people and in the world. May you be happy and remember the joy of playing!

goddess #14

2009-11-30T17:55:00.000-08:00

"the tinkling of a hundred windchimes

flashes of color, even on this rainy day

bring a smile to all. . .

thank you!

may I ease the suffering of one person in the morning,

bring joy to one person in the afternoon"

Very near to where I live there is a magical tree. It grew over many years, sprouting windchimes and shiny things, spreading light, color, and music beneath its boughs. It is the garden of one of the Brookline "projects" and the creation of a family that immigrated here from Cuba decades ago . . . it reminds me, on a smaller and more delicate scale, of Simon Rhodia's Watts Towers. People are often drawn to dancing or playing within this fantasy world and it seemed a perfect home for a goddess dedicated to bringing joy to those around her.

goddess #13

2009-11-24T08:35:00.000-08:00

"on their journey toward freedom,

men and women

girls and boys

found refuge here

may all beings find refuge on their journey towards freedom"

Goddess #13 stands among the remains of a stone wall behind a church in Yorktown Heights, NY that served as a stop on the underground railroad. I am told that there is a tunnel connecting the church and a house across the street. It is moving to realize that this very contemporary prosperous suburban town has a history of offering protection to runaway slaves who were fleeing north to Canada. At the front of the church a plaque on one side commemorates the members of the Rhode Island Regiment, a company of black soldiers who died in the Revolutionary War in the battle of Pines Bridge, and a Peace Pole is planted on the other side. This circle/square juxtaposition is in the back of the church with no explanation, but somehow it feels like it might mark something significant.

goddess #12

2009-11-17T07:07:00.000-08:00

"Yet another unseasonably warm November day

The quiet of the graveyard

Across the road the vitality of a schoolyard at recess

life and death

side by side

May understanding come to our hearts and we transcend the cycle of birth and death."

Brookline's Old Burying Ground is home not only to some of the town's most prominent citizens, but also to several slaves who were buried in unmarked graves near their owners. This piece of Brookline history has only recently been unearthed. It seems fitting that these bodies, owner and owned, now are inextricably joined, nourishing the verdant grass, soft moss, and magnificent trees of this place. Indeed, being here I can really feel the spirit of Thich Nhat Hanh's words, to paraphrase, "I am the slaveowner who lives in the big house, and I am the slave that works finger to the bone to serve the master, I am the body feeding the grass and I am the child running on the grass calling joyfully to my friend."

goddess #11

2009-11-10T08:42:00.000-08:00

"Indian summer

returned for the day.

How glorious to have

eyes that see

ears that hear

a body to feel the breeze,

soak up the sun,

and connect with the aliveness of the earth

and all things that grow"

May all beings touch their own aliveness with awe and gratitude.

Literally floating on a log in the Charles River, goddess #11 is not far from the Perkins School for the Blind, a wonderful institution that dates back to the days of Helen Keller and Anne Sullivan. Walking in the woods nearby made me keenly aware of how precious this human body truly is and grateful for the sensitivity of our senses and to our amazing ability to learn and adapt to changes in our individual and collective being.

goddess #10

2009-11-02T19:56:00.000-08:00

"Autumn equinox

Full moon

momentarily in balance

then not . . .

May we all elarn to dance the shifting sands . . .

balancing dynamically from moment to moment"

Goddess of the the Arboretum junkyard and chipmunk playground . . .

she stands amidst rotting logs carpeted in moss . .

rusting oil tanks and old truck tires melting into earth . . .

a place out of time, out of mind . . yet completely present . . .

goddess #9

2009-10-26T19:47:00.000-07:00

"golden canopy

crab apple windfall

pond view

perfect!"

On the cusp of Scorpio, between my 2nd son's birthday and my father's, I was drawn to thoughts of generations, the flow of ancestors endlessly flowing backward and forward through me and through time. I planted this mother goddess near Jamaica Pond where I first landed in Boston and where we played when my boys were young.

"may all beings realize their own awakened nature"

goddess #8

2009-10-19T21:19:00.000-07:00

"Victory Gardens

exuberant still in autumn sun . . .

thank you to the makers

May we all touch our creative energy and open to the joy of letting it flow."

She stands nestled in the trunk of a Dawn Redwood (Metasequoia Glyptost Obides) that according to a small plaque was planted in 1987 in friendship and loving memory of Gerald A. Flynn (1939-1986) by his friends M. Jeff Zirpolo, Mark Davol, and Richard Orarco.

A passerby told me that Gerald had a huge vegetable garden here, at the edge of the water, and that he donated vegetables to Meals-on-Wheels and the program that provided meals to those ill with HIV/AIDS.

The Victory Gardens has always been a favorite spot for me. Walking through it today took me back to when I walked its narrow paths ripe with child, soaking in the sun and nourished by the visual richness of this patchwork of gardens. I couldn't resist taking lots more photos of the gardens.

goddess #7

2009-10-12T08:47:00.000-07:00

"autumn brilliant

alive to wind and sun

two strong legs

eyes to see

body being breathed . . .

enough!"

Today, drawn again to hospital grounds . . . this time Franklin Park near the Shattuck . . . a hospital of last resort - a place for people suffering homelessness, addiction, mental illness . . . leaves vibrant in the autumn sun, bright blue sky . . . the ground littered with empty bottles and broken glass - permeated with suffering and the search for solace . . . I am keenly aware of the suffering of those for whom there is never enough to fill the void, to soothe the pain, to bring peace to the fearful mind . . .

"may all beings be free of suffering

and the causes of suffering"

goddess #6

2009-10-05T14:45:00.000-07:00

Walking through the site of the former Boston State Hospital, thinking of the lives lived there . . . and reflecting on August Wilson's amazing play "Fences" that I saw last night - I was filled with these words of the Buddha . . . "Life is so hard, how can we be anything but kind." . . . these words are written in goddess #6. She now lives among the brilliant autumn colors, wildflowers, and wildlife that have reclaimed the land of the former mental hospital that was the recipient of so much human suffering.

Goddess #5

2009-09-28T07:58:00.000-07:00

The 5th goddess stands in the mud amongst the reeds lining the Muddy River, Brookline. Bikers, dogs and their people, runners, walkers, strollers, lovers, medical workers, leaf blowers and grass cutters, students, parents and toddlers pass close by. She says, "May our hearts be flooded with forgiveness. Washing away all anger and aversion. Leaving space for love and compassion to overflow."

4th Goddess

2009-09-21T19:17:00.000-07:00

Goddess #4 is near Ward's Pond in Fredrick Law Olmsted's Emerald Necklace in Boston/Brookline. Surrounded by running water she is nestled in uprooted roots in the center of a mandala, within earshot of traffic, near paths utilized by joggers, dog-walkers, and fishermen. She says, "Touching the Earth, surrounded by roots, generations flow through me as the stream flows past. Present, past, and future in this one very moment. May all beings be well."

3rd Goddess

2009-09-14T17:30:00.000-07:00

Goddess #3 was the most difficult to find a home for thus far. She is now in Union Square Park in New York City. Inside she says, "Breathing in . . . I breathe in the cosmos . . . Breathing out . . . I breathe out the cosmos."

I first thought to put her on the Highline . . . a beautiful wild garden that has been created on an old elevated railroad siding downtown on the west side near the Hudson River . . .but it was way too carefully cultivated, populated and patrolled for comfort . . .

The park at Union Square had more of the feel of real people, and a more casual feel that comes from having been a real part of the city for some time. Around her are a great mix of street people, well-heeled consumers at the farmer's market, construction workers, and artists . . .

2nd Goddess

2009-09-07T14:41:00.000-07:00

Goddess #2 is now out in the world. She is in the woods behind Insight Meditation Center in Barre, Massachusetts. Her message reads, "As a mother nourishes and protects her dear children, may we nourish and protect the world, mother and child of us all." As I continued walking the paths through the woods I came upon a lone salamander, a sweet orange goddess of a different kind.

First Week

2009-08-31T17:27:00.000-07:00

The Goddess Project is part of the Time Project, a collaborative artwork initiated by
Sandi Fenton. The Time Project involves each artist recording visually a moment in time once a week for a year. About 15 artists are involved.

For The Goddess Project I will be creating 52 goddesses, each made of terra cotta and bisque fired. Each week I will take one goddess and launch her into the world in a different spot. I will photograph the goddess in her place and post the photos on this blog.

Each goddess will be launched into the world with mindfulness and a wish for our world and the living creatures that inhabit it.

The first goddess was placed into the ocean among the rocks on the north end of the beach at Hull, Massachusetts. It was just past low tide and the tide was coming in. As I watched the waves overcame her, and she disappeared below the water.

Inside her is a paper that reads: "May our Earth be healthy and safe, able to support all living beings . . . May all living being be healthy and safe, supporting the Earth, awake in the understanding that the Earth is our flesh and blood and bones."