And we begin again...

In an effort to better care for myself and the fact that my computer died late last year, I have been making an effort to spend more time off line actually doing things that I enjoy.  Refreshing facebook is such a time suck, and I've completely been absorbed by what you all write from moment to moment that I've been neglecting my craft and things that I love to do.

I hadn't worked on a taxidermy project in some time.  My friend's ferret had been sitting in my freezer for an insane amount of time, so I finally thawed her out and worked on her.  Her mummification process should be done in late January.  I also figured that I had to do something with the string of vertebrae I had laying around the house so I had an idea, broke out the dremmel and made 20 Christmas ornaments with bells, antique glass, beads and the bones.  They were wildly successful, and for that I am grateful.  It's always a thrill when something you love, your art, a craft you've been cultivating and working on is supported by people.  It's such a thrill.  I sold 19 of the 20 ornaments in two weeks time.  Now I have a mess of bones coming to me from friends that hunt for food, and with the animals I have in my freezer I have projects piling on again.  I am super excited, as my only promise to myself this year is to nurture my craft fully.  My first step towards doing that this year is taking an actual taxidermy class late this month.  I am thrilled at the possibilities, as I have been reluctant to dive head first into stuffing the creatures I have only for them to look derpy in the end.

So here's so a prosperous, craft nurturing year.  My art is going to be huge.

Penumbra

My friend Lorien posted this today and it just resonated so very deeply...

At night, I open the window
and ask the moon to come
and press its face against mine.
Breathe into me.
Close the language-door
and open the love window.
The moon won't use the door,
only the window.

-Rumi

Good night, Moon.

Less is more...

I know you all hear me professing my love for Dr. Hauschka, most times on a daily basis.  As a skincare professional, I have worked with several product lines, all of which have their merit.  However, no skincare line has nurtured, nourished and returned my skin to its natural glory than Dr. Hauschka.

First a little background.  The Dr. Hauschka skincare line is a German line developed by Dr. Rudolf Hauschka and Elizabeth Sigmund.  Most of the plants that go into the product are grown on WALA's bio dynamic farm, and are hand harvested and hand processed, with the exception of the roses and Shea Butter, which are grown on fair trade bio dynamic farms in warmer climates.  The idea, is that the product and ritual will return your skin to it's natural function.  No use for exfoliaters, or heavy night creams.

So, how does it work?  In the morning, you cleanse, tone and moisturize.  It's simple, and it works.  The cleansing cream is a gentle, deep cleanser that gently lifts out impurities and gently exfoliates the skin.  This is not a scrub, even though it may feel like one.  The idea is that with wet hands, you press, and roll your hands over your skin, listening for a squishing sound.  After three passes over your skin, you rinse, tone and moisturize, pressing each product into your skin, not rubbing.  Your skin will be rosier, clearer, and more balanced.  After a month, your skin will have gotten back to its natural rhythm.  It will be producing and healing and functioning at its highest level.

The facials are an other worldly experience.  Focus is on quality of touch and lymph stimulation.  They range from an hour to two hours, the Classic Treatment being the two hour treatment that is recommended four times a year with the change of the seasons.

I've struggled with my skin, adult acne, hyper pigmentation, texture issues, rosacea, psoriasis, and I've been through all of the treatments ranging from retin-a to cetephil to peels.  Nothing has healed my skin so easily and without all of the miserable side effects.  

Are you ready to leave your old skincare behind and begin a voyage towards your healthiest skin?

Let my skin speak to you...

Trying to help...

Eight years ago, one of my most beloved friends committed suicide.  It broke my heart.  I was inconsolable.  Still today, I am heart broken over the loss of such an amazing, sensitive, soul.  This September, I am walking to raise money for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention.  I, have personally struggled with and survived years of depression and a two suicide attempts.  Please, dig deep, any amount helps...

Click to Donate here

I hope you've found peace my dear friend...

Arlen Barr

Happy Fourth of July!

A Mirror with no Reflection

Most people don't know that I am a twin, was a twin.  My sister died in utero, during the 2nd trimester. Her death caused all sorts of complications for my mother, in the end resulting with my birth via cesarean section.

Lately, I've been really wondering how and if her death effected me in even the slightest way, and if a lot of the strange phantom emptiness is caused by that.

Starting early, I was a weird kid.  Off, slightly gregarious, slightly shy.  Very easily picked on, and always felt a little like something was missing.  I embraced my darkness, and it drive my mother insane.    I loved ghosts, monsters, death was so interesting to me.  I would hide in my closet or under my bed hoping that the monsters that other kids talked about would come out and play with me.  I wasn't afraid of them, I just assumed they were different like me, and just needed a friend that understood them.  I was picked on mercilessly all through elementary school and high school.  By the time college rolled around I just had accepted my solitude and while I had friends, they were from the land of misfit toys as well.

My mother didn't confess to me that I had been a twin until my 20's.  She didn't want me to feel I had lost something, yet, I already felt like that.  I had been feeling like that since I could remember.  I thought I was kind of crazy in thinking that a loss that happened so long ago and in utero could effect my personality and soul so much.

So I have decided to learn more about what it all means.  Did that loss make me a little more left of center than I normally would have been?  Has it effected me so deeply that I'm feeling all sorts of strange feelings and emptiness that I never would have felt if she had been born?

I'm on a quest...

Chasing Nostalgia

This past week has been full of amazing connections.  Not new connections, but just old friends who have delved deeper into friendship.  It's amazing.

 It's also been a crazy weird week where in, I had to go get a snake from my in laws.  It was a three foot corn snake.  Beautiful.  In an effort to try to find him a new home and not release him into the wild, I kept him in the house and he did escape.  It was an interesting 48 hours while he was missing.  I was more afraid of him getting hurt by one of the dogs, but he showed up last night, safe and sound, perhaps a little pissed off.  I scooted him into his container and bungee'd the lid down and decided that it was time for me to take him somewhere to be released.

This brings me to last night.  It was after nine, I had gotten dressed and put the snake in the car, and headed east.  I drove for a while, the cool breeze blowing through the window, the night, so very dark. I had forgotten a flashlight, so there I was, in the dark woods with a Tupperware container full of snake, tromping through the woods in flip flops, tripping through the brush.  I got him far enough away from the road and let him go.  I assume he slithered away, before I heard crashing in the woods and my brain freaked out.  On  the drive home I took the long way through the back roads of Dundalk and through Essex.  It brought back a flood of memories, of crazy late night times.  Driving though eastern Baltimore County in any of my Gilman boyfriends fancy cars.  Silly, whimsical, goth girl in love with jocks.  I would sit in the front seat of the car, my Dr. Martens propped up and hanging out the passenger window.  Billows of smoke from my Camel Lights drifting on the breeze.  I would roll my eyes as the current trust fund boyfriend and his friends tried to figure out ways to steal the Essex Cube or jump out of the car to pick up traffic cones for no good reason.  I would sit there, watch, smoke, and pick holes in my fishnets.  I still remember what it felt like to have each individual thread slide under my purple fingernail and pop.

Does this mean anything?  Nope.  I had just forgotten how much I love sense memory and how amazing, smells, sounds, and temperature can really make us recall certain moments in time.