Ethereal Shipmate

Ethereal Shipmate
by Pandora Peoples

The lion has captured the heart
Of this bleeding gazelle,
The child like a full moon,
When my eyes are closed,
Fills my lungs like fragrant island flowers
On a starry night,
Like cupid he weaves love webs
Around his smiling parents.


My husband is like a room of leather-bound books,
A morning in the sand,
Waves lapping at the shore,
The flames in a fireplace,
Inviting me to two-step and tango,
He's the soulmeat on my ship
And the shipmate on my soul,
The drink on my lips.


He is my exfoliating scrub,
My TMJ-jawlock-emergency-rub,
My kindly mythic beast,
My spacemate co-navigating the waters
Of the galactic heart.



Attachment Parenting 101


Screen all media with trepidation and non-attachment, ignore false flags, turn a blind eye to encoded messages as there are enough unintentional ones to keep you busy filtering, accept a multitude of opinions and some degree of scapegoatism from the left, the liberals, the progressives, the libertarians, the creatives. Pretend the anti-intellectuals live in a bubble and can do you no harm. Remember the anti-feminists are making cries for help. Unfortunately, true love does not conquer, it acquiesces, it heals, it caves, it saves, it coalesces, it makes compromises, but it can make miracles happen.

As the wheel turns and another year is on the proverbial horizon, I am tingly and tickled pink, that my little nuclear family and I love to snuggle under the blankets together and read poetry into the night, grateful for my beloved husband born in the astrological month of the lion who has captured the heart of this bleeding gazelle.

People not only give up too easily on relationships in this culture, but often they are afraid to fall as deeply in love as they can be. If people hold back on discovering one another's deepest selves, or speaking up about their needs or what makes them satiated, or when couples fail to discover new aspects of themselves, or if they lose their individuality or are afraid to give their partners space, the bonding doesn't keep up with the soul's need for new levels of awareness. I think that must be 'the secret' of spunky couples who have been married 50 plus years.

Artists in Their Studios Create Perfect Christmas Gifts

(In case you missed this month's issue of "Dinghy: The Little Magazine", which most of us did.)

“Artists in Their Studios Create the Perfect Christmas Gifts:”
By Pandora Peoples

CINDY SAUERS is a multifaceted artist and owner of Saturday Farm and Island Cottage, vacation rentals in Cape Cod and St. John’s. Like a crystal or a precious stone, Sauers has a light, healing energy that touches your spirit. Her wit and whimsy is conveyed in her work, from her paintings to her murals. Hidden fairies are part of the motif of Island Cottage, whereas The Baa Boys, two adorable sheep are the animal hosts of Saturday Farm, “I think families pick Saturday Farm as a place that will calm them and make them feel balance again.”

Sauers’ love of art began at an early age, “I started with drawing. Lying in bed as a kid, I would dream about changing the color of my room.” She gravitated towards muses early on, “Once I started reading, I began reading autobiographies of artists. I would look for them in the library.” She contemplates, “I bet there are a lot of people out there that could be artists if they are just encouraged.” Art is so much a part of her life that she sees it as a natural form of expression all people can access. “I look at an artist as someone who is creative with all aspects of life. It could be creating a day, an environment, or using your creativity to work your way out of a problem, or turning a negative experience into a positive experience.”

Sauers is always fresh, working in many mediums as her inspiration takes hold. “I might feel like creating a painting, a drawing, a mosaic, block prints or creating a sculpture, or changing the landscape of the garden.” She likes to create every day, “I’ve learned that I can promote my creativity with music or routine…If I play a certain kind of music and have a certain cup of tea, I’ll be creative ten nights in a row…So, I set the stage and then it happens.”

You can find Cindy Sauers’ paintings in “The Presents of Angels” a holiday art show and performance series running at the Hyannis Harbor Arts Center at the Guyer Barn, Dec. 1-Jan. 5, as well as her artful gifts at their Christmas Gift Boutique. You can discover more about Sauers at her blog, http://itsa-world.blogspot.com.

KIMBERLY MEDEIROS creates cereal bowls that will have you singing to your oatmeal every morning. Her brilliant functional art embodies her love for life. Each stoneware piece is unique and draws you in with its beauty and character. After spending time with her and her clay cups, platters, and wine goblets, it is plain to see that her colorful designs, drawings, and patterns, are reflective of her joyful spirit. Her works are as contagious as her smile, each draws you in with a story.

Medeiros is inspired by everything from the paintings of Gustav Klimt to the imagery she discovered in India back in 2006, when took a trip with The Emancipation Network, an organization that provides trafficked girls with education, rehabilitation and job training. A percentage of the sales from her series, “Pots with a Purpose” goes to the organization. “My concept was people as vessels, vessels as vehicles, pots with a purpose.” As a teacher, Medeiros is enthusiastic that her pottery series can illuminate social justice issues.

Medeiros describes what it was like growing up in a family of ceramicists and painters, “My mother is big into color, I grew up part time in Florida. We always had a colorful life. [She was always] singing opera in the kitchen, with classical music in the other room, while the kids were on the floor doing crafts.” She goes on to say, “We were always encouraged to pursue it, instead of veging out in front of the TV…If kids are given the tools they will use them.” Of her artistic drive she explains, “I am happiest when I am at my wheel blaring my music and singing loudly.”

One of Medeiros’ favorite commissioned works was for best-selling author Dan Brown, because she got to “dive into his books, pull out his imagery, and personalize it”. The work is now in his foyer. She waxes poetic about the holidays, “I love the sense of community, people coming together and celebrating with family and friends. It’s about peace, joy and love.” And gorgeous pottery! You can find her work at the Christmas Gift Boutique at the Guyer Barn 250 South Street, Hyannis, MA, Dec. 1-Jan. 5, or online at the barnpottery.com

At a defining moment in high school, one of SHANNON MCDONALD’s teachers put her on a course of artistic study, indicating to her parents that she had a gift for pottery and design. After studying visual art at University, MacDonald got a job surrounded by beautiful fine art, but she “had to put on white gloves to touch it”. At that point, she realized that she wanted to create functional art she could explore with her hands. “I was always drawn to jewelry. I remember getting one of those mini looms.” She still has the pieces she made in those fateful early years. “I just love to accessorize. I love big statement necklaces. I didn’t see anything that fit my aesthetic. So, that’s when I started making the jewelry I love to wear.”

MacDonald describes her creative process as part of her daily life. She regularly dreams up new creations by sketching her ideas. Putting them to paper, helps her ideas seem tangible. “The act of putting it down and cementing it is really important to me,” she explains. To other artists she recommends keeping a collection of sketchbooks, “you see your process through the books. It’s wonderful to look at. It can re-inspire you to try something else, now that you’re further along in your work.”

Of the holiday season MacDonald enthuses, “I really enjoy the time with family…I make gifts for people that really match them. I really enjoy giving them.” She praises her mother for her talent at shopping for unique gifts that match the recipients. “It makes me happy that she truly thought of me when she bought it.” Giving hand-made gifts are a way people can give a “piece to remember through the years”. One commissioned collage made her customer, “So inspired that it made her cry, knowing that someone put so much thought into a piece made her happy.” She beams, “[I] really incorporated her into it.” The piece now hangs in the master bedroom.

Her jewelry line Ellie Joy, is named after her grandmother, who inspired her to be an artist. “She said, ‘Be brave, do what you want to do.’ She offers lovely unique painted wood jewelry she aptly calls “yoga jewelry” as well as glittery pieces that are perfect for the holidays. ” You can find MacDonald’s work at elliejoystore.etsy.com, Jewelry Inspirations in Dennis, and at the Christmas Gift Boutique at the Guyer Barn at 250 South Street, Hyannis, MA.

### Pandora Peoples, is a writer, herbalist and psychic medium in Dennis, MA. She is a contributing writer to Spiritual Pregnancy (Llewellyn 2013). She is a wife, mother and nutritional counselor. Her show Cape Codified runs on local community TV Channel 17. You can contact her at info@pandorapeoples.com

Music from the Galactic Center

My beloved husband got me a turntable that digitally records the albums. Eureka! I can pull out our dusty boxes of vinyls. Sergio Mendes Brazil 66 will be in heavy rotation once again. I can listen to Charles Brown and Whipped Cream and Other Delights.

Neurotic Mother-in-Law for the Holidays

An Evening of Monologues for the Holidays was lovely. A particularly tight and energetic performance by Nadia Schuessler and funny, well-crafted monologues by Gregory Hischak, Diane Kyle and Lee Roscoe.

I wrote my monologue today in a flurry between finishing editing Cape Codified with Special Guest Polka Dan's Beetbox Band [airing Christmas day] and buying desserts for the show. I based my monologue on content from a scene in a screenplay my husband and I wrote which is loosely based on my mother-in-law. It's a holiday tale called, "Getting Mom Off Drugs". She's dead now, so I'M definitely gonna hear about it. One of the perks of being a medium, you have plenty of time to smooth things over with the deceased relatives.

After 14 years of talking through the night into daybreak, you'd think two fire signs would burn out, but my husband and I are still so enamored with each other after all these years. Kudos to my charming, debonair, suave, kind-hearted, deep, slightly roguish and raunchy, pheromonally intoxicating, handsome husband. I adore him, his guardian angels, his cooking, his touch, his parenting. AND, he makes me laugh every day all of the time. Blessed Be! Who the hell needs a birthday party with all that?

Psss...Charlotte, you done real good. Despite your steak-knife-wielding dinners, irate screeching, and time spent in the car in the garage with the motor running, you really managed to raise a consistent, loving, positive, forthcoming, emotionally-stable, vulnerable, tender and heartfelt gem. God bless you Mrs. R. Those first 60 months of infancy really paid off...and we completely agree, 5 is a great age to stop counting your child's age in months.

Interview Today on Radio Station WOMR-FM

At 12:45pm today listen to my interview with host Joe Gouveia on Poets' Corner...streaming live at http://worm.org !

Drink Your Benadryl Down, Honey.

How refreshing it is to slow down, to be a hundred percent right with your child's need for guidance. We make children grow up so fast. They are checking their email, fetching the weather report online, and Skyping Santa!, when really they need our undivided...supervision. Children need structure and demonstrable love, or they feel lost and seem chaotic, fighting, power-struggling. In fact they are just trying to vie for mommy and daddy's attention when they are preoccupied with work. Turn off the computer, make some art with your child. Listen to what he's truly communicating to you. He will be so thrilled that you are genuinely listening, patiently and intently, making full eye contact, holding his gaze, that he will be tickled pink. He will waltz around the house, like there is fairness and justice in the world once again. And he will be the funnest playmate, conversationalist, and dance partner you could ever have!

A little reprogramming goes a long way. Direction, instruction and consistency are the corner stones of good parenting, as well as emotional accessibility. Which means you've got to play with your children. It's good for us too. The adult world is so disenchanting, so full of malaise, ennui, the banal, the mundane, Les Fleurs Du Mal, and fodder for this guy's depressive states of consciousness...

The Cape Cod Poetry Review

The Cape Cod Cod Poetry Review publication party is happening tomorrow night (Saturday). At 6pm Kathleen Healy will be there singing Christmas tunes for our holiday art show. At 7pm, host John Bonanni will emcee the evening of poetry. Copies of the literary journal will be for sale for only $10, down from the $12 price you would pay at local bookstores.

Thankfully, I am better! There will be appetizers, mulled cider, a potluck and the entertainment for a lovely evening!

The show was mentioned in the Barnstable Patriot. Angela Bilsky who did a load of work for the show wasn't mentioned, so kudos to her and all the volunteers who made this show such a success!! http://www.barnstablepatriot.com/home2/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=31493&Itemid=34

Head in the Clouds, Feet on the Ground

I'm STILL not convinced that I have chickenpox. The world is so vastly complex. How many viruses on the planet? And I'm just supposed to accept I have some run-of-the-mill children's virus, like people with shingles are swarming the libraries and aisles of Stop and Shop. Now, I know we have our share of elderly, but how likely is it that some shingles-ravaged geriatric coughed in my face and some little viral bug leaped into my mouth, or my hair and then wrestled my immune system to the point of exhaustion?

On the other hand, how many dangerous chemicals are there in the world that could be the culprit behind a plague-like outbreak of hives...(that pus and scab over)? Probably hundreds, if not thousands of near-lethal combinations of chemicals make their way into pre-packaged foods and puffy pastries all across the world every day. And how many outbreaks caused by chemical-laced foods are "suspicious for chickenpox"? (Stamp.) Next!

Just because I got trapped in a weir, doesn't make me a fish. Maybe I'm a oyster or a crustacean. I'm getting a test which will be definitive. Unless of course it comes back positive, in which case I'm apt to contest it.

I was prescribed an antihistamine for the rash, but it's an anti-anxiety medication. An anti-axiety pill for chicken pox??? For real! While it feels like a mental vacation, I seem virtually incapable of being upset, but my head is floating around in the clouds. It's fun to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there. It seems a lot of medication has this effect on people, while there are thousands of herbs that give people a very grounded feeling while helping manage anxiety, or blood pressure, cholesterol, blood sugar, or many other ailments for that matter without blurry vision, dizziness, or the feeling of floating in space. I love my feet in the mossy earth, burrowing beetles, red worms, termites and all. *** Update...okay, I had chickenpox after all. What a doozy!

Drawing Fuchsia Lines for Poinsettia

by Pandora Peoples

Stuffing straw in a basement
Has her waxing poetic about scarecrows,
There's no time or place
For little lacy shoes
But mama bear's gnarling her teeth again,
There's no waterworks now,
It's nearing December,
The sky is black as the Kalua
In papa bear's glass tumbler,
It's nearing December
The air is dry like a mathematician's
Ghost, drawing parables in the sky
For the Norse Gods.

Mama's God is turning into a fat uterine lining,
There are crystals coalescing in odd places,
Golden dreams of lighthouses
And walking on gelatinous water,
Laughter and the pit-pat of invisible feet
Don't go unnoticed in the kitchen,
Suddenly there are elaborate meals,
Opened cookbooks strewn across the counters.

There are names to write
On stockings that aren't there,
Chocolate and shopping aren't destinations
On a voyage that has a direct path under stars,
The ship is full sail
And the course is set,
Through the eons of starlit miraculous unknowns,
Delicious meals and storybooks
Punctuate the hours
Gliding forward
Rising and falling,
On the breath of the vast Ocean.

The Deer Hawk Sweat Lodge

We held a traditional sweat lodge ceremony last night. Donna Wood Eaton was the facilitator. As soon as I made an offering to Donna in request of the ceremony, it felt like an engine was turning a wheel closer to the special day. The spirit guides and ancestors* of those who would attend were helping us in the dream worlds to prepare for the event. The swan-diving winged beings of white light and the indigo ancestors were dancing for whole week before the ceremony began.

The Stone People are the grandparents. Each asks to be involved in the ceremony. Each woman is asked to listen to the stones, and waits in line to deliver the grandparent to the fire. My stones each identified themselves this way, "Heart", "Mica", "Alabaster", and then the last one that talked really loudly to me in a deep man's voice. "I wanna come. You have to take me. I belong in there." The face of this grandfather rock was a large orange-red rectangle. He seemed to be smiling.

The hooting owl, the soaring hawks, and the gentle deer brought us messages to guide the ceremony. I was honored to lay the skull of the buffalo on the spirit trail with our intentions. How alive the bones of the buffalo were! Quart rocks were also placed. The crystal energy was very strong.

The 'placentas' of the womb-like cave glowed red, sparkling like stars. A crack in the cosmic egg burst. Out of the galactic center, the copal smoke rose inside the circle and carried my spirit up into the trees of the Colombian Andes.

As part of part of my rebirth, I began wearing Invisilign again. After the lodge, my teeth have magically shifted, and are looking much straighter already.

And I am looking forward to my training as a deejay/radio host! I wonder if Winter will herald opportunities to be a sub for the various programs. My spirit is so eager to learn these new skills.

Broadcasting from the Middle of the Atlantic and Eating Words

Venturing to P-Town for a conversation with the delightful Ms. Dr. of Talking Back, Paula Sperry, was a delightful experience. A peek into the land of the disembodied voices, was a bit dream-like, which is compounded by the fact that being in amid the stacks of wondrous brightly-lit CDS feels like a salty-aired summerland high above the ocean waves. This lighthouse dream cave of the imagination sent me into an out-of-body experience. Yes, I met my version of heaven, with a water cooler and everything.

It was an experience to relish like polka-flavored keeshka, to savor like pierogi from the Old Country, to slurp like a bowl of red borscht. Yes, I need a beer.

In the Abstract

Watch the promo for my new TV show, Cape Codified! on Channel 99 on Cape Cod!

Behind the Band TV

Returning to one's roots is pretty invigorating. This week, when I close my eyes everything turns into a beautiful abstract painting, well with the right ambiance. Co-curating this art show with Sarah Holl which features talented artists and great works has got me thinking about a return to painting. My dad was an artist model, and I spent time around excellent oil painters as a child, and enjoyed going to art shows quite early on. I recall the smell of paint fumes, passionate artists with bushy furrowed eyebrows and pensive Aristotle eyes, and laughter. My mom and her friends would take me to museums: The J. Paul Getty Villa, the Norton Simon, the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, and the Museum of Contemporary Art.

At age ten I was studying sonnets and spending hours in museums staring at works of Matisse, Monet, Renoir, Degas, Waterhouse, Alma Tadema, Diego Rivera, Reuter, Rembrandt, Rodin, Jean-Baptiste Pater, Molenaer, Toulouse-Lautrec, Manet, Luca Giordano, Rubens. I would bring a pad of paper and take notes from a cushioned bench, or standing a foot away from the work, examining its texture. I tried to remember every detail with my eyes, capturing its essence with my heart. Later, I made poetic attempts to capture the essence of a Matisse odalisque in words.

My mom had a cherry wood bookshelf that belonged to her grandparents. It had glass doors that lifted like the doors of a Ferrari. It was a special bookshelf because it had fallen out of a pickup truck my parents borrowed on their first move together. They didn't have rope to tie the thing down. I guess they were pretty eager to get where they were going. It was the kind of story they would tell together, finishing each others sentences. The kind you ask them to tell over and over because you want to see if a new detail will emerge, that you can savor. And you like the way they rub each others backs or grab each others hands as they recount their old tale in fits of laughter. In actuality, their story may have only been ten years old, but it seems like another life, because it was a time before you existed, and because their eyes don't always twinkle and they don't always giggle in the middle of the day.

My dad had put the bookcase back together after it had hit the pavement on a busy boulevard, but the hinges were tricky. I always admired my mother for her fragile strength and the way she magically put everything back together in one piece, including me. And she still does every now and then. I was so proud of the way she slid those glass doors open and closed. Out. Up. In. There. And she'd smile and hold my gaze, knowing that I too could learn to do it seamlessly. But I just wanted to watch her graceful hands. I was so proud of the way she took such great care with everything she touched. I loved to hear her stories over and over again. I was in awe of her reverent touch as she relished her treasured bookcase and its contents.

Inside, were her art books, Kay Nielson, Maxfield Parish, Salvador Dali, Boticelli...She was particularly fond of her Georgia O'Keefe books, with large pages of cow skulls and Jimsonweed flowers. I loved to ask her questions, entreating her, "Why do you like these skulls?" She would wax poetic about her art books, caressing the spines and torn jackets on their covers tenderly, like they were the works of her dear friends or ancestors. She would get teary eyed, as if she was 'winding grooves in her Joni Mitchell album' to quote an old teacher pen-pal of mine Greg Kahn. She would often play music and weep. And I would say, "don't be sad". "This song makes me happy." Why does happiness look so sad, I thought. Now, I know, or don't know, but I am the one crying on the floor in tadasana, with my hands tucked between my knees.

This was one of those songs... ***

My show with Linda Sandhu on Profile went great! It will stream on http://mysaccestv.com by Friday night!