Wednesday, December 3, 2014

Stromatolites and Chert



I am taking a break from artwork these days for various reasons and have turned my attention to rocks.  I have become a Rock Hound!  I've always loved rocks and minerals along with plants and animals.  Since plants are mostly slumbering this time of year and the birds are quiet (except for the chickens), it seemed like the right time to explore the mineral world.  I want to experiment with Gem Elixirs, made by soaking various crystals and stones in distilled water in the sunlight, then preserving them with brandy and storing in dark bottles.  These are vibrational remedies, similar to flower essences or homeopathic medicines.  And from my research, they can have pretty profound impacts on our mental, emotional, spiritual and physical well being.

One type of rock that excites me is the Stromatolite.  I got the one pictured above from a small local rock shop.  Stromatolites are the fossilized remains of ancient colonies of cyanobacteria which lived in shallow water and used water, carbon dioxide and sunlight to create their food.  They excreted calcium carbonate which formed layer upon layer of stone with bacterial remains sandwiched between them.  Many of these stones are up to 3.5 billion years old!!  Just think of it!  The cyanobacteria were largely responsible for increasing oxygen in the primeval earth's atmosphere through photosynthesis, thus allowing other forms of life to develop.  Bacteria were the only form of life on earth for the first 2 billion years that life existed on earth.  And as a matter of fact, we humans consist of bacterial colonies that outnumber our human cells ten to one.  Such important organisms, yet we mostly don't even think about them.

In a little book I have called "Gem Waters" by Michael Geinger and Joachim Goebel, stromatolites are listed as a healing stone that, when prepared in an elixir or gem water, cleanses the connective tissues and the intestines, improves intestinal flora, encourages metabolism and elimination, dissolves abdominal tensions.  On higher levels, this elixir helps us adapt to change and aids our creative power.  It makes sense to me that these oldest forms of life might contain powerful blueprints, or vibrations that could stimulate our digestive systems.  And the thought of making a remedy with something that is 3.5 billion years old blows my mind.  Talk about getting down to basics - these tiny creatures had digestion down pat. 

 When stromatolites are cut and polished, they make beautiful pieces suitable for jewelry with swirling streaks of brown and black, or sometimes other colors.  There are modern forms of stromatolites still found around the world, but not as numerous as in the far distant past.

So I am preparing to make a stromatolite gem elixir and will pass along what I learn from it.

Pink Ozark Chert


Another stone I'm working with is our common Ozark pink chert.  Chert is pretty much the same as flint, though flint is usually dark.  According to "Gem Elixirs and Vibrational Healing" by Gurudas, flint's prime function as an elixir is tissue regeneration of the entire endocrine system.  As a by-product of this it stimulates tissue regeneration throughout the entire system and aids assimilation of all nutrients.  I figure that pink chert ought to be particularly effective since the color pink relates to regeneration.  It's exciting and liberating to think that powerful medicines can be developed from the stones beneath our feet.  Think what mysteries are contained in the natural world!  

Saturday, September 6, 2014

About Fairies

I got this unfinished picture out today and am determined to get it painted.  It has truly become it's name: The Forgotten Garden.  But the cooler weather has gotten me inspired to paint again.  And while I am pondering what color palette to use, I'm also pondering other things.

What is a fairy?  There are probably as many definitions as there are people, but two different viewpoints come to mind.  One is that fairies are completely benign, tiny beings wearing fluffy pink dresses and waving magic wands over children as they sleep.  The other, an ancient belief dating back many ages, is that fairies are an old race of non-Christian beings possessed of super-human powers, mischievous at best and often downright evil.  They steal children, dry up the cows' milk, lead humans into decadence and vice, and must be placated with bowls of milk left on the stoop.

I think both concepts do the fairies a big disservice.  They have been caught in a darkening world that hovers between hardened materialism and old superstition, and I keep struggling to understand how they, and Mother Nature as a whole, became so misunderstood and separated from both science and religion.  On the religious side, it's maybe because when Christianity arose, the old Pagan wisdom was rejected, giving way to new impulses.  So the pendulum swung from worshiping nature to fearing and shunning it.  It's time for some fresh new perspectives in keeping with the new age.

I do believe there are invisible presences in nature, in fact, I've communicated with many of them while making flower essences over the years, and have learned a tremendous amount.  And I believe that some of these presences are malevolent.  But does that mean we should shun them, or should we try to understand them?  With understanding, fear, confusion and superstition dissipate, and a person feels strengthened to meet evil and adversity.  Granted, it's not easy to communicate with invisible beings, but it is possible, and very rewarding.  This is a topic left for another day!

We humans are the bridge between nature and the cosmos, between earth and spirit.  In us resides the extremely important task of enlivening science and updating religion to include the fresh new insight and growth we are now capable of.

My fairies are a personification of nature: fragile, beautiful or ugly as the case may be, keepers of much wisdom that encompasses the entire cosmos: stars, planets, angels, elements, earth, water, fire, air, and all the living, intelligent beings that bring order to our world.  And may a little of their spirit shine on you.

Sunday, August 31, 2014

The Heart is not a Pump



THE HEART IS NOT A PUMP:
A REFUTATION OF THE PRESSURE PROPULSION PREMISE OF HEART FUNCTION
 by
 Ralph Marinelli 1; Branko Fuerst 2; Hoyte van der Zee 3; Andrew  McGinn 4;  William Marinelli 5
1. Rudolf Steiner Research Center, Royal Oak, MI
2. Dept. of Anesthesiology,  Albany Medical College, Albany, NY
3. Dept. of Anesthesiology and Physiology, Albany Medical College, NY
4. Cardiovascular Consultants Ltd., Minneapolis, MN.  Department of Medicine, University of Minnesota, MN
5. Hennipen County Medical Center and Dept. of Medicine, University of Minnesota, MN
Abstract
In 1932, Bremer of Harvard filmed the blood in the very early embryo circulating in self-propelled mode in spiralling streams before the heart was functioning. Amazingly, he was so impressed with the spiralling nature of the blood flow pattern that he failed to realize that the phenomena before him had demolished the pressure propulsion principle. Earlier in 1920, Steiner, of the Goetheanum in Switzerland had pointed out in lectures to medical doctors that the heart was not a pump forcing inert blood to move with pressure but that the blood was propelled with its own biological momentum, as can be seen in the embryo, and boosts itself with "induced" momenta from the heart.  He also stated that the pressure does not cause the blood to circulate but is caused by interrupting the circulation. Experimental corroboration of Steiner's concepts in the embryo and adult is herein presented.
Introduction
The fact that the heart by itself is incapable of sustaining the circulation of the blood was known to physicians of antiquity. They looked for auxiliary forces of blood movement in various types of  `etherisation' and `pneumatisation' or ensoulement of the blood on its passage through the heart and  lungs. With the dawn of modern science and over the past three hundred years,  such concepts became untenable. The mechanistic concept of the heart as a hydraulic pump  prevailed and became firmly established around the middle of the nineteenth century.
The heart, an organ weighing about three hundred grams, is supposed to `pump' some eight thousand liters of blood per day at rest and much more during activity,  without fatigue.  In terms of mechanical work this represents the lifting of approximately 100 pounds one mile high!  In terms of capillary flow,  the heart  is performing an even more prodigious task of `forcing' the blood with a viscosity five times greater than that of water through millions of capillaries with diameters often smaller than the red blood cells themselves! Clearly, such claims go beyond reason and imagination. Due to the complexity of the variables involved, it has been impossible to calculate the true peripheral resistance even of a single organ, let alone of the entire peripheral circulation.  Also, the concept of a centralized pressure source  (the heart) generating excessive pressure at its source, so that sufficient pressure remains at the remote capillaries, is not an elegant one.
Our understanding and therapy of the key areas of cardiovascular pathophysiology, such as septic shock, hypertension and myocardial ischemia are far from complete. The impact of spending billions of dollars on cardiovascular research using an erroneous premise is enormous. In relation to this, the efforts to construct a satisfactory artificial heart have yet to bear fruit. Within the confines of contemporary biological and medical thinking, the propulsive force of the blood remains a mystery. If the heart really does not furnish the blood with the total motive force, where is the source of the auxiliary force and what is its nature?  The answer to those questions will foster a new level of understanding of the phenomena of life in the biological sciences and enable physicians to rediscover the human being which, all too often, many feel they have lost.

Read more here

It's encouraging to see that the chasm between science and philosophy, or science and spirit, or even dare I say science and religion, is growing narrower, thanks to some of the free thinking minds of our day.  Neither dry, dusty books full of "facts",  nor the blind beliefs of good-hearted people who want nothing to do with science or nature because it's somehow not holy, will close the gap between these two streams (which are really one and the same).  A bridge has to be formed, and it seems to me this research on the heart is a wonderful start.

And by the way, the collage seen above is my interpretation of "The Inner Heart", and is now available in my Etsy shop - www.etsy.com/shop/onthewindart




Tuesday, August 12, 2014

August Flavors


I've done my share of complaining about August.  The heat, the drought, the seed ticks, the weeds, and, when I was a kid, the end of the summer and the start of school again.  Sometimes I wish August could be stricken from the calendar.  But August has its own magic.  There are hazy, soft mornings and deeply still afternoons with only the sound of whirring insects.  The light changes, the sun grows lower, the shadows longer, the nights cooler.  The court of High Summer is bowing to make way for mellower energies. Pods, seeds and grasses are ripening and the air takes on a distinctive August smell - goldenrod, walnut hulls and one hundred other scents mixed together, maybe dying beetles, who knows?


A slight but faintly pleasant melancholy settles over me on those days, because, although summer is dying, Autumn will soon bring its invigorating energy.

And for those dog day afternoons, there is sumac-ade to fortify the body and spirit.  We have two kinds of sumac growing on our property, maybe more, but I've found the winged sumac, with drooping clusters of purplish fruits, and the smooth sumac with upright, fire-engine red cones.  Making sumac tea is as easy as picking the clusters of berries when they're ripe (along about now) soaking them briefly in room temperature water and possibly squeezing a few times if you're in a hurry, straining, and drinking.  It has a very pleasant sour taste with fruity undertones.  The taste comes from a sticky resin on the outside of the seeds, so pick it on a dry day when rain hasn't washed the resin off.  Sumac-ade is very high in vitamin C and antioxidants.  Plus it's nice to lick your fingers after handling it and enjoy the sprightly sour flavor.


In the art world, I have been struggling mightily with a collage that started out with no particular idea in mind (never a good idea!) except to play with shapes and colors.  I began it as an abstract but it wasn't working.  Then it briefly morphed into another seascape, but I wasn't happy with that either.  Finally I saw that it was supposed to be a tree, so I'm trying to make a tree emerge from the hodge-podge chaos.  Maybe I'll succeed - I certainly hope so after putting so much time and materials into it.  It still looks ghastly, but it has potential, so I'll keep working on it.  I want a new collage to enter in a fiber arts show at the end of the month.  I hesitate to show it, but after all, chaos is part of the artistic process!  Maybe the mellowness of August will help me tame this unruly beast.



Sunday, July 27, 2014

Sweet Spots and Thinkin' Places


When I was growing up my cousin and I used to make forts, or, as my cousin called them, thinkin' places.  There was the road fort, on a hillside above the road where we could throw green apples at passing cars, and the pine fort at the back of my grandfather's biggest hayfield, where you could lie in a grove of pines and listen to the wind.  There was a honeysuckle fort hidden and private in a tangle of vines, and the hayloft fort, and another in a little valley filled with wild mint and horsetail that made a wonderful rustling sound when you walked through it.

I don't make thinkin' places anymore, but I have my favorite spots on our property.  One is on the highest point of our farm where the compost pile is, under a big hickory tree.  If I'm feeling unwell or out of sorts, standing there gazing down the valley makes me feel much better - always.  There are subtle energies around trees, plants and water and in places where the land curves or dips or gathers energy from invisible sources.  You can feel these sweet spots if you pay attention. They are very healing, physically and mentally.  We don't draw on nature's healing energy nearly enough.  It's powerful medicine to hug trees, walk barefoot, lie in the grass, find  thinkin' places and let nature speak to us in her own subtle language.

 

Sunday, December 15, 2013

The Inner Light

It's collage season when I get to play with colors and textures to my heart's content.  It's also my favorite time of year.  November and December, the darkest months, bring the season of inner light.  No matter what your spiritual beliefs, you can feel this.  The Christmas season is a celebration of the triumph of light over darkness.  When the outer world is dark and cold, when the ground is frozen and bare, we have no choice but to turn inward to find life.  And what we have cultivated in our inner gardens is the sustenance we have to carry us through the winter.  At this time, peace on earth, good will towards men seems much more possible.  People's hearts grow softer, lighter, more open.  I wish for everyone to find their bright inner light this season, and spread it around so there are many bright spots in the dark days.  All too soon spring will come and we'll be drawn out into the sprouting, blossoming, awakening earth, putting aside our inner gardens for the outer ones.  I hope everyone finds light and life and joy within while the earth sleeps.


Sunday, June 23, 2013

Inspiration for the day


This is Edmund Dulac at his finest.  I'd give anything to sit beside him for even a day and watch how he does what he does.  Or did, rather.  He's been gone many long years, but his artwork lives on.  Sometimes I think, oh, what is the use of me painting and drawing when there are so many so much better.  But what if Edmund had thought that?  Even if I could inspire one person to pick up a pencil or brush, it would in some way keep the vision alive that flows from one artist to the next, each one adding his or her own essence.  I like to think of art this way, as a living river that flows between the generations of artists, picking up treasures as it makes its way to some far off ocean.  There is an archetypal fairy tale that calls to all of us.  Why else would these tales and visions be so deeply rooted in our lives.  So I keep drawing and painting away, trying to find the source.  I don't think I'll find it in this lifetime, but it's the journey that's important!