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In Native American culture, March is the Ash Moon. The meditation for this moon is understanding.

We are called to try to understand - our children, our partners, our co-workers, our pets. Try to see things from another point of view, and remember that we are all trying to find our way in this life. The child who acts contrary to what you know is best for them may need to find her own way. Or they may need more guidance. The dog who has you tearing your hair out from his incessant barking may be bored silly, stuck in his tiny fenced in backyard all day. The horse that bucks might have a sore back.

Seeing things from another's point of view means stepping outside our own egos and allowing ourselves to experience life from another's vantage point. Imagine the possibilities for peace if everyone tried to understand – different personalities, different political views, different religions, different cultures.

Imagine the possibility for inner peace if we truly understand ourselves.

I just found out my design for a ten foot tall rearing stallion (ala Trail of Painted Ponies) made the first cut - this Friday night is a Sponsor party where all the sponsors and artists who made the first cut will gather and sponsors will choose the design for "their" horse. I am up against some great competition so am feeling a bit of anxiety. What if my design doesn't get chosen? What if it does? I've never painted a giant fiberglass horse before!  I'd have to work in acrylic. I'd have six weeks to complete the project. I'd have to figure out a place to house and paint a giant horse. (If my barn weren't so dusty, I might consider painting it there. I can just imagine the looks from my real-live horses!)

Anxiety is a common emotion with artists. Even the most successful artists still feel uncomfortable, nervous - yes, anxious - when their work is being judged - either by patrons or their peers. The old "what if no one wants me on their team" fears from the playground still surface. On the flip side, what if I do get chosen? Will I drop the ball and suffer the scorn of my teammates? And yet we have to push through the fear and anxiety and do what we do anyway. Because that is who we are. The life of an artist is not for the faint of heart!

On Wednesday, I found a Mallard Duck's wing. Distinctive with its bright flash of blue feathers, it was lying in the pasture, close to the barn. I might have missed it, except Shyanne, the yearling paint, was regarding it with great curiosity. With no pond close by, I'm not sure how the wing ended up in my pasture. My dogs don't roam, so they wouldn't have brought it from some distant locale. Perhaps a fox? Or a coyote? . Or maybe, as my inner comedian quips, some poor duck was flying along when it had a wing malfunction.

 

But however it got there, I of course picked it up, marveling at the gift, thankful to the Universe for dropping this thing of beauty into my world. To those of you who know my penchant for collecting feathers, you'll understand that this was a great coup! Since I was little I've been fascinated by birds – one of my favorite things to do was to go to the library and look in the case where they had dozens and dozens of small songbirds on display. I read the Audubon encyclopedia from cover to cover. I spent hours identifying the birds that frequented our feeder in the backyard. 

 

At the risk of you thinking that I am quite odd, I'll let you in on a little known secret about me. I've got a few perfectly preserved little birds in the freezer in my studio. Lest you think I've gone mad and am out hunting down poor little helpless birds to kill and put into deep freeze, I assure you these are birds I've found who are already quite dead. Or birds my friends have found for me... Periodically, I take them out and unwrap them from their shrouds of plastic wrap and study them. The iridescence of the Broad-tailed Hummingbird's ruby throat and the slenderness of its tiny beak. The bright yellow feathers of the Western Meadowlark. The rich, russet colored breast of the Robin. The way a wing extends out and folds back.

 

Now you may wonder – and so do I sometimes – why the fascination with birds when its horses I paint? Horses are too big to put in the freezer.  (Drum roll, please.) OK, just kidding. I've always wanted to paint birds, but again, not birds based on realism, but more the essence of birds. Here's aSneak Preview of the painting I'm working on now. I think the birds are arriving!

February is known as “Big Wind Moon” – all of us living here in northern Colorado can attest to the validity of that! Especially up here, north of Ft. Collins, where the wind can blow like a freight train.

This month's inner journey is one of introspection. Introspection is necessary to understanding the conflicts that fight within you. Many people feel unsettled at this time of year. A restlessness stirs within, and if we don't pay attention to what our spirit is telling us, we can become unhappy without knowing why. This agitation can be subtle or strong. It is the beginning of growth, under the surface. Women who have given birth can relate to this feeling as the very beginning stages of labor, before the real pains of labor begin. It is a restless feeling, a stirring within that is almost not there, but yet it is there. Something within has changed and is ready to begin its journey into the light. It signals us to prepare.

So as we look within, and prepare for this new thing growing inside, we must clear out the old. Old habits, old fears. This is a continuation of what we began last month, but with perhaps a little more urgency. Many people feel tired during this time. They want to be alone. As it is a time of quiet reflection, these feelings are perfectly natural and should be embraced, not resisted. Growth takes a lot of energy, and even if you can't see it, something within you is evolving. It is beautiful. Nurture and love and protect that part of you that is getting ready to be born into the Light of the World.