I'm in the blue shirt at the Red Feather Build on the Northern Cheyenne Reservation

I am currently redecorating this site – a bit of stucco, polishing the floors, hanging plants, etc.  Back in the fall.  Meanwhile, check out what I’ve been up to this summer here.

Photo Credit: Red Feather Development Group

No texting.  No internet.  No blogging.  No, no, no.

I love it.  I’m currently residing in an emerald green tent in the Northern Cheyenne Reservation.  My first time in Montana.  I’m helping build a sustainable straw bale house through the incredible organization, Red Feather Development Group.

Truthfully, waking up a 7am and working every day does not seem like a vacation.  Yet, I feel like the next week may be worthy of a lot more than golden beaches and tans, pool side lounging, and daiquiris.  It’s my first week on “vacationing” completely on my own.  On my own as in not knowing a single soul.  It’s refreshing … and it’s needed.

I’ll be back to the homestead, NY i love/hate you City, on June 20th.  Changed.

Side note: My week felt like this frizzle of a doll.

“I’ll tell you right now, the doors to the world of the wild Self are few but precious.  If you have a deep scar, that is a door, if you have an old, old story, that is a door.  If you love the sky and the water so much you almost cannot bear it, that is a door.  If you yearn for a deeper life, a full life, a sane life, that is a door.

…The early training to ‘be nice’ causes women to override their intuitions.  In that sense, they are actually purposefully taught to submit to the predator.  Imagine a wolf mother teaching her young to ‘be nice’ in the face of an angry ferret or a wily diamondback rattler.”

-Clarissa Pinkola Estés, PhD, Women Who Run With the Wolves

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Her name is Kathy.  She was technically my half sister, but was like a mother to me.  I packed up all of my things and moved from Florida to California at her suggestion when I was in my early 20′s.  It never occurred to me that anything ‘bad’ could happen to a young woman in a car alone on a three or four day trip across the country with all of her possessions in her car, including a large television more or less in plain view in the back seat; and nothing bad did happen.

She took me into the fold, made me part of her family.  We would take long walks and she would listen to me rattle off incessantly about whoever I was dating at the time – she was patient with me as I painstakingly dissected every conversation and wrung my hands over every nuance of what was said.

She was home.

So I painted her.  Tried to convey the strength of my love for her and the power of her courage with the color choices.  Most of all I tried to capture the pain in her eyes.  The resignation.  The fear.  And a glimmer of hope in her yellow eyebrows.

It occurred to me long after the painting was done that her eyes were green.  Mine are blue.

I had painted my eyes into her face.”

-Art and story by Lisa Valle, 44, from Portland, Oregon

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Art by Melissa Garrett (daughter) from Bristol, Tennessee

“My name is Melissa. I have always felt like I was born in the wrong area.

I feel that I would better ‘fit in’ in a large metropolitan area, such as New York or LA. However, I went to a very rural high school in the mountains of Southwest Virginia. It was not out of the ordinary for the students of my high school to wear their overalls and roper boots to school, fully adorned in the cow and horse manure from working on their families’ farms early that morning.

Agriculture and Horticulture were the most popular areas of study at my high school. Old pick-up trucks with a dead deer in the back from the owner’s most recent hunting trip were plenteous. I, on the other hand, did not find this aspect of my area’s culture attractive in the least bit.

Each morning when I got ready for school, unlike the others, I did not think of what would be most comfortable to wear that day. I focused on what was stylish and appealing. I spent much of my time with my fashion magazines. My dream job is to be a fashion stylist of the stars (although I am currently in college to become a nurse).

As my picture describes, I treated the halls of my school like a run-way, modeling the fashionable looks that I put together. I did stand-out from the ‘norm’ of my peers, but I didn’t mind. I love expressing myself through style.”

-Melissa Garrett, 20-years-old

Art by Barbie Garrett (mother) from Bristol, Tennessee

“This is a self-portrait reflecting my vision of who I am.  As I was having fun drawing, I was reflecting that this is not how others see me, I think. I started to send a picture of just two green eyes on a white background.  I see myself that way sometimes, on the outside looking in.  And invisible.

This reflects the parts of me I enjoy.  I purposely left out my family, even though that is so much of who I am.  And, I purposely left out my faith, which is also much of who I am.  This is just a simple ‘look at me’.

I spend much of my time out on the porch, working on my laptop in my porch swing.  I am a freelance writer, and this is a lot of who I am. I am the Social Media Examiner for the Knoxville Examiner. I write about many different topics, but it is often cooking and crafts. I am a kitchen gadget addict:  I have 3 bread machines and 3 rice cookers.

I am a church organist and a former piano teacher.  I do a lot of things, but I usually do them on the front porch in my porch swing.

Obviously, I am a philosopher, and not an artist!”

-Barbie Garrett, 50-years-old

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Photo Credit: Anastasia Photography

Danielle LaPorte intrigues me.  I’ve dived into her spiritual and creative abyss on White Hot Truth.  After meeting her in person, I realized that the lady really can start a Fire … one with inextinguishable flames.

Danielle’s new Fire Starter Sessions, a digital experience for people with the entrepreneurial spirit, releases worldwide on May 12th.  The e-book combines logic with mojo, uniting your brand, vision, and soul along the way.

Inspired by both Danielle and this fiery project, I immediately wanted the scoop on her life as a kid.  Childhood tells all.  Danielle was playful enough to share her memories, from the days of magic and BIG HAIR, with me.

KZ:  What was the first childhood experience that showed a glimmer of your entrepreneurial grace?

DL: Grade 8. I was class President. I lobbied to, for the first time in elementary school history, change a nominal fee for parents to enter our school carnival. “Can’t fight change … or kids” was my platform.

KZ:  Who and/or what did you want to be when you were little?  Any particular heroes at age 8?

DL: My Grade 2 Journal reads:  I want to be Wonder Woman (loved those bullet proof bangles and her rad invisible plane), a Social Worker, a Disco Dancer, and a Poet.  I’m all of those things today.  My airplane is the internet.

KZ:  What was your biggest challenge growing up?

DL: Getting in trouble for leading the pack.

KZ:  What would 8-year-old Danielle say about you if she saw you now?

DL: You’re super smart.  And your heart is pretty, I like your heart a lot.  How come you don’t have a house in Morocco yet?  You really should dance more. Wanna put on some makeup?

KZ:  What was your favorite place to spend time as a kid?

DL: The wheat field behind our house.  I lived on a farm.  Being an only child, I spent hours and hours alone, walking on the railway tracks, thinking I could talk to hawks and fairies. Writing poetry. Looking for signs. Magic signs.

KZ:  Describe your family’s home dynamic.

DL: Instant gratification and pretty happy getting by.

KZ:  Best memory from childhood?

DL: In the Canadian Parliament they have “Pages” who are like errand kids on the senate floor. It’s a very competitive and prestigious little gig, and I managed to land myself a term as a Page when I was twelve. I wanted that so bad that I tired to sweat blood when I prayed at night. Getting it was a total rush.

I also have a lot of great memories of laughing with my mom and dad in the car and in the kitchen.  Always at the expense of each other.

KZ:  How would your classmates describe you in high school? What was your passion?

DL: Unique. Creative. Bossy. Very Big Hair.  My passion: Figuring out how to get the hell out of my town. Big Hair.

Art by Danielle LaPorte

*** Moving forward a few decades …

KZ:  Describe 80-year-old Danielle.

DL: Satiated.

KZ:  What will change when you’re approaching 80?  What will stay the same?

DL: Well, my boobs will be in their own province by then.  Sigh.  I’ll still be spouting off what I think I know. Evoking the truth. Avoiding cooking.

KZ:  What will you have conquered by then that you haven’t yet?

DL: My fear of not reaching my full potential.

KZ:  What style and business mantra will you rock in the rocking chair?

DL: Everything is progress.  This I know.

Thank you for your time, Danielle!

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“I was a stand-up guy until about a year ago when I was confined to this wheelchair.  Now, I do what I used to do but sitting down.”

-Macedonio Garcia from Meadows Place, Texas

Zebra art by Macedonio

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In ’05, I finally removed myself from a relationship that was becoming increasingly restrictive. That night I moved into my studio and felt so many emotions I didn’t know where to start.

So of course I started painting.

The image is called “Swift current on a falling tide”

Being a west coast girl, I see life in coastal metaphors.  I was finally in motion, moving fast into a new phase of my life.

The falling tide refers to the fact that as the tide goes out hidden rocks appear and have to be navigated.

The mask is actually lifted from another painting of mine, but seemed appropriate in that I had put down the perfect woman and wife image and was willing to be messily, grandly, scatteredly, creatively, myself once more.

What a wonderful night that was!

I painted all night and into the dawn and then slept on my studio couch till noon and got up to paint again.

-Art and story by Corinne Paquette-Parker

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“This my first drawing of my new face, so perhaps I look bewildered.

Until six weeks ago I’d had a beard for 25 years; lately it had become a wild beard too. It was due for a trim and I needed £400 to open a temporary homeless shelter.  So I decided I’d get some sponsorship for shaving the beard off completely. (In the end I raised £600.)

Shaving the beard came as more of a shock than I had anticipated. Once it was gone I not only had a new face in the mirror but a whole new set of expressions. Ghosts flickered across my reflection: my late father (which was no surprise) and the face of the poet Philip Larkin (which was unexpected).

I’d thought that one of the first things I would do was draw a self portrait but that was impossible because I could see nothing in my new face to get hold of. Even after six weeks it was a confusing business because I had to work entirely to the face in the mirror without any sense that what was appearing on the paper was me.”

-William Saunders from London

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