Smitten in mittens. Overflowing with love as we blow warm kisses from our crystal cold mountaintop to you. Let’s spin, dance, roll, and share abundant blessings with each other and all creatures great and small…
One of my passions...
Endlessly sculptural…ICE…!!!!
Excited for the season upon us but mostly I’m delighted to share adventures on ice with Raymond. I never imagined my rodeo bullfighting husband would discover his own love for the stuff. Raymond’s spiritual appreciation of and communion with Momma Nature (and the made-with-love gourmet sandwiches he creates for our adventures) are just a few sprinkles of the stardust goodness. He’s my favorite partner @raymondansotegui took this photo of me a few weeks ago…
Sweet Sleep
Catching the light while feeling mountaintop magic…
Light is a guide and friend to me. Even the tiniest sliver of light - though elusive - exists and can be found during the darkest times if I surrender and open myself to the painful scary places.
A lifetime of severe insomnia; chronic drenched darkness invited demons to dance. I was tough. But tough wasn’t enough. Tough actually got in the way of progress with something as allusive and temperamental as sleep. I’ve traveled dozens of healing paths, spent thousands and thousands of dollars, made progress and lost footing. Finally I came to grips with and accepted my fate as a non-sleeper. I resolved to “make do” with less sleep than most, sincerely thankful the worst chronic cycles of insomnia were behind me (several times in my life I averaged a total of 6-8 hours of sleep every 2-3 days for months at a time).
Last spring my dear friend Alan, a medical scientist and visionary told me in no definitive terms that what I considered acceptable progress and “normal for me” (4-6 hours of fitful sleep waking 6 -12 times a night) was actually not acceptable. New resolve; more journeys and breakthroughs. Sweet sleep.
Raymond took this photo last week while I balanced on a rock on top of a local summit. Full of gratitude for the sleep fullness gained during the last year. I no longer label myself as an insomniac. I am embracing a new chapter where I get to fine-tune sweet sleep.
I am dreaming again.
Parts of myself I hadn’t realized I’d lost are showing up. I sip and slurp light - not for survival but in celebration.
Full of gratitude.
Four months after being attacked by a pack of 3 pit bulls, severe PTSD clutched my guts and sabotaged my studio life.
The multi-weapon antibiotic assault on the threatening blood infection had thrown my body out of kilter. The pit of insomnia which accompanied decades of my life (and pock-marked my childhood) deepened and widened.
My studio, usually a healing and spiritual place, felt hollow, cavernous and frightening. Sharp chisels and power tools scared me. A “harmless” piece of charcoal resulted in a dark grotesque fang-filled demonic drawing scratched furiously onto big paper. Scary stuff. The process of creation may at times require glistening sweat and even drops of bright blood but PTSD tarnished sweat and blood into sickly blackened sticky goo. Scary stuff.
Uprooted and flailing after a summer lost to the attack, I grasped onto the “INKtober” challenge proposed in social media. The drawings were done outside my studio, mostly at home ‘tho I remember one evening self-consciously drawing at a tall two-top table in a crowded restaurant before a rodeo event in Billings.
Thirty-one drawings - tiny white tendrils - wispy roots that helped me navigate a steep deep pit.
Six more months crawled by before I inched my way back into the studio enticed by Cliff’s boot prints in the snow. The fire he’d built early one spring morning sent smoke signals from the studio chimney - love notes of encouragement.
Inspired by an unforgettable Great Horned Owl who visited me on a full moon night when 2015 rolled into 2016, I began a small palm-size sculpture of an owl. Cliff was excited about my return to work but more than that, he was excited about the beginnings of that little owl sculpture. Ah Cliff. The owl who perched on top of that big dead o’l tree and the little lump of clay which began to turn into an owl in my hands is a potent, ominous and mystical entwined story (for another time).
I’ve been missing Cliff something fierce. Autumn was his favorite time of year.
Tears. Walks and talks with his spirit on this mountain. Life and loss and love.
Earlier this week Raymond’s mother Linda spotted a Great Horned Owl perched on top a giant tree while she and I sat together on the studio deck at dusk. Then today, seven years after I scribbled this owl on a piece of scrap paper found in a tiny drawer of the small antique desk which belonged to my mother, Facebook reposted “INKober Drawing #2.”
I marvel at the gift of one tough and tender nutrient-gathering, stability-seeking tendril after another in a long healing journey mapped by gnarled roots and lotsa love.
Catching the light...
✨ Momma Nature’s abundant kisses are far more potent than any superfood, booster shot, pill or powder…
Momma Nature Provides...
Spring and summer have been a mix of exploration and appreciation of Momma Nature both outside and inside my studio along with summer’s healthy dose of friends and family who visit this special place we get to call home. I’m finding new ways to squeeze in more mini adventures on studio days. Mountain biking “helmet hair”or the grit from rock and chalk beneath my nails or the satisfaction of happy sleepy dogs after a quickie six mile dawn hike accompany the grin on my face when I step into the studio. Raymond took this photo early one morning this week while I led a nearby “new-to-me” climb before studio time. Feeling fit. Inspired. Playfully and intentionally creative. Blessed.
Dancing with Bulls - insight into the world of protecting bull riders in the rodeo arena
My husband Raymond shared thoughtful insight with passion and humility on the TED stage. Everyone who takes a few moments to watch his talk feels changed, inspired and enlightened…
Raising Funds for Flood Relief
Raymond took the “Jake Bank” to a coffee shop to help raise funds for our local animal shelter. The staff had to act fast when the shelter was overtaken by water in minutes. Some dogs were stuff into kennels and placed on the upper floor of the barn, then rescued in canoes later by Swift Water Rescue. The shelter is a total loss but all the animals (including the little goldfish) were rescued. The “Jake Bank” has raised a few thousand dollars for the shelter during the last decade but managed to raise over $5000 the first week it was in town after the flood.
Jake gets a loving polish at the coffee shop
Precious Moments; celebrate the little blessings...
Ray and Raymond
Raymond and his mother work together to care for his father during the challenging final stages of Alzheimers. Dubbed “the overeducated cowboy” by the students he taught for 35 years at MSU, Ray is admired and beloved by all those who have the privilege of knowing him. Some of the intimate moments and feelings were shared on my blog during the years I cared for my mother while Alzheimer’s ravaged her being. Ray was diagnosed about a year after my mother passed away. This photo of these two makes me happy.
Unprecedented Montana Springtime Floods
Momma Nature expressed her potent power this week. The usual springtime high mountain snow melt which swells creeks, streams and rivers was amped by excessive rain destabilizing the snow which unleashed a fury of flooding and mudslides throughout Montana. Raymond took this photo from our place. Normal spring conditions would show the Yellowstone River like a fattened snake winding it way on the edge of town rather than the isle, island and wetland scene shown. My friend Storrs took the following photo as volunteers filled and carted sandbags deep into the Strawberry Full Moon night. Ten thousand tourists were safely evacuated from Yellowstone Park. No lives lost. Counting the blessings while appreciating the beauty of nature and humanity alike - not taking anything for granted.
From desert warmth to mountain spring snow
Of course snow - and rain and thunder and hail and wind and calm and birds singing and little furry critters scampering and brave tender grass reaching for those tantalizing blasts of sunshine.
Moon shadows. Painterly sunsets. Moody sunrises.
Springtime in the Rockies.
Home-sweet-home.
Inspiration outside the studio
Endlessly sculptural. Zen garden soul stirring landscape entwined with Dr Seuss-like whimsical formations. Tantalizing. Grounding. Empowering. Humbling.
Parts of my creative process can be described with the same adjectives
Cliff and Tala
I wonder if Tala feels Cliff’s spirit as strongly as I do? I know she would be ecstatic if he walked across our deck, or if she heard him laugh. Grief from the loss of my dearest closest friend seems even heavier, harder and more persistent these past few months than other times in more recent years. Is that possible? Perhaps some of the deep layers of grief are finding their way through me; released with tears amongst the trees in the woods on the mountain he is such a part of. Thankful for his ever-present spirit. Gratitude for the mountain of memories, the storms we weathered and the endless river of love.
Cliff Denham: Oct 21,1947- May 1, 2016.
Happy Easter!
Bunny tracks in the snow - Easter blessings abound…
Reflections on grief
Softness and light greeted my heart this morning. Grief is a many-layered thing. Sharp as an icicle, soft as the persistent drip drip drip drops…
TED Talk'n
Selected in 2019 for the TED stage, Raymond’s talk was delayed. Twice. (COVID). He worked HARD putting together an eye-opening and moving eight minute talk that I can hardly wait to share (once TED posts it online).
Raymond stretched minds and hearts when he took the stage Saturday. Humility, courage, insight, power, vulnerability and presence; he enraptured the audience. I’m in awe and PROUD!!!
Years ago, I shared the TED stage with one of my sculptures. Someday - I hope to take to the TED stage again as I’ve much room for improvement to more deeply share and connect with words - the creative spirit and the spirit within all things.
Years ago on the TED stage with one of my sculptures…
Raymond and Yellowstone National Park Birthday Celebration
Beautiful frozen waterfall beckoned us to climb….
We celebrated both Raymond’s birthday and Yellowstone National Park’s 150th birthday with an ice climbing adventure in the Park yesterday. Perfect pairing of a magical place and the gracious bright light Raymond beams. Greeted by bison on the road, painterly skies, stellar frozen falls, beauty, wonder, nature and love followed by this moment tucked into comfy covers at a cozy little cabin in Cooke City - a wee little town perched on the edge of the Park. No cell service here. My handsome husband sleeps, my heart leaps. Blessed.
Morning Musings...
Criss-cross frost bejewels the window above the fancy delicate o’l treasure of a writing desk my mother loved. Bunny tracks at the door. Candle lit. Hot frothy morning brew in the fat rabbit mug. Multi-colored pens. Journal. Gratitude.
Full Moon Slow Dance
Home-sweet-home after a stellar 4 day adventure with my love. We hiked to lyrical waterfalls no longer frozen enough to climb, stayed in a historical brothel-turned-boutique-hotel (yes I packed tiny lacy things) Climbed stellar frozen Cataract Falls in the steep mountains near Augusta, attended 3 nights of Circuit Finals Rodeo to support and hang with friends and their families. I didn’t realize how hungry I was for ART until we took in the contemporary art installations at Paris Gibson Square Museum of Art which prompted us to pilgrimage to Lincoln to visit Blackfoot Pathways Sculpture in the Wild. Slid into the historical healing pools at Broadwater hot springs for our final interlude. Full moon magic welcomed us home-sweet-home.
Heart - Soul- Mind - Body - Cowboy boots - Ice Axes - Lace - Frozen Falls - Art - Hot springs
New Year's Day Beautitude...
Looking for a compelling climb…
Momma Nature all blinged out with magical crystal beauty that only happens in sub zero temps. New Year’s morning, Raymond and I uncurled from our cuddle, rolled off the air mattress in the dining room of the lovely Big Sky condo, suited up, tip-toed past sleeping friends, got the sliding glass door unstuck and slid into the hot tub where we soaked up the sunrise.
Thirteen degrees below zero.
I scampered barefoot and made a snow angel in my bikini as a post-it note greeting to the sky (and for the kiddos to discover when they woke from slumber).
Hiking in sub zero temps is other-worldly and LOUD. Cold snow crunch crunch crunch. Partnering up to climb on frozen falls was a sweet little retreat and memorable way to begin the New Year.