Beasts and beauties and a new year around the bend

The recent dark moon has people acting screwy.  Folks who I know to be solid land mammals are suddenly flailing around the seashores and lakes, looking like they want to swim.  Bird people are digging dirt-- and not just for worms-- digging cause they've lost focus, cause they've forgotten to look up: those wings aren't just for show, folks. 

Time for a little wintertime introspection.  Remember our faculties.  Remember we are spirit people.

I've recently given a little sea lion to the son of a beaver.  These are both animals that can do well in those ecotone environments.  Survivors.  Playful hardworkers.  Beavers are builders.  They remind us to build up our dreams, not lose focus.  If a beaver has shown up in your life, chances are, you need to spend a little time repairing your balance.  Maybe your creative energy has been diffused-- you've forgotten that your work and your personal legend are intrinsically tied together.  Beavers tell us to act on our dreams, make them reality.

In the same vein, sea lions are creative, sensitive, souls.  These folks tend to swim around in their own heads a lot-- and the trick for them is to figure when and how to bring their gifts to the surface.  Folks with sea lion totems should pay particular attention to their ears and what they're hearing or what they're listening to.  Music and words can unlock doors for these folks.

I also tried to get a three-legged unicorn to a three-legged unicorn.  Not sure if it made it.  Unicorns are special, of course.  And over here at Wildbeings they're even more so because they always break.  Mostly the horns break off.  In this case, it was a leg.  So I was looking for somebody who still had their magic intact, but maybe had forgotten about it because they're concentrating too much on their limp.  The three legged unicorn is a reminder that you're very special-- but it's up to you to figure if you're a magician or a cripple-- depends on where your energy goes and flows.

This is a time to go within, reevaluate, refocus.  Time to remind ourselves that we have special talents and we need to remember to use them-- or they'll atrophy.  So wherever you are in this last week of the year-- land or sea or air-- be there.  And start from there.
 
We will see you in the new year, beasts!
   

automatic for the animal-people

We've been depositing spirit animals all over the downtown area in the past few weeks.  Wolves, bears, mountain lions, catfish, even a drunken turkey.  It's been a bit of a blur.   This happens on occasion: the giving away becomes a whirlwind and overshadows the documentation.  That's because finding homes for the animals is fun and games, but writing about it is work. 

Don't worry, some of us are worker bees.  And the fact is, we've been working on some other ceramic side projects: light pulls that look like hands, hanging baskets for succulents, ornaments, wind chimes, little keychain houses... but the animals are returning in full force soon enough. 


Because solstice is coming.  The idea that we are reaching a point where the light and darkness are perfectly balanced is a big deal.  We could use a little balance over here.  As the darkness grows, we are considering hibernation.  Or migration?  Something. Bottom line: If you found a spirit animal in the past few weeks, you're on your own.  Is it yours?  Does it belong to someone else?  Your call.  This is a community art project.  And you, good folks, are the community.

Back to it, Spirit People!

Beaver moon!

Okay spirit people.  We're back.  We didn't really go anywhere, just haven't been posting.  We've been distributing animals: beavers and foxes and bears and a snake at the midterm elections (turns out, plenty of snakes there already.)  Tonight, John Butler Trio, my kind of weather, and a bag of fall animals looking to find the right people.  Stay tuned!

daylight nightdark sunlight moonlight

Happy Autumn Equinox! Welcome back darkness!  So long, hot summer!  Cave-dwellers and freckular people rejoice!

It's been a great week over here at Wildbeings.  So glad to see summer on the way out.  We got the big fox to what I'm going to say was the stage manager at Trombone Shorty.  I got a small coyote to John Fullbright-- who opened for Shovels and Rope.  And I got a luna moth-girl on the stage during Shovels and Rope.  Well, not me, but somebody did.

I'm not here to do music reviews.  I'm not qualified.  I don't even play an instrument (5 chords on the ukulele...).  But Shovels and Rope... woah.  One of the best shows I've seen in a while.  I was so impressed by the musical love language that these two performers seemed to share and speak.  And it's not like either of them have super beautiful voices.  But they sound so... moving.  Amazing, really.

Moths are amazing, too.  Much like the butterfly, but from the flip side, the dark side.  Butterflies are beautiful, sunny and light, colorful, fluttery.  We all love butterflies.  And there is no doubt that moths are beautiful, too.  But entities that thrive in darkness always make people nervous.  It's our weird Christian/ Puritan sensibilities.  The forests are dangerous, dark, deep and filled with lurking creatures, danger, witches and whatnot.  But here's what I think: It's a perfect animal for the equinox.  They are a reminder that darkness is on it's way.  Moth people use shadow and darkness to confuse enemies, to dazzle and distract.  They know how and when to disappear.  They have the ability to use illusion.  But most importantly:  moths can always find their way to the light.  They remind us that there is hope.  Always.  Sometimes we have to look beyond our preconceptions.

Foxes and coyotes are playful trickster types.  I write about them a lot.  Or I mean to.  Clever.  Smart.  I mean, this whole project is kind of coyote-fox spirited.  These animals, both, tell us to look for balance between work and play.  And to love and make good use of the inbetween times: the foggy mornings and dusk times.  The waiting periods.  Foxes and coyotes teach us to follow our hearts, but to take our brains with us-- be playful, but stay on the light side.  Because mostly, these spirits are clever to a point of magically manipulative, which can go dark, man.

Happy Equinox, Mabon, Day of Balance!  Love to all the Spirit People!
 

   

Fox to be continued

Trombone Shorty was a really good time.  Tailgating out front I met somebody whose cousin was in the band.  We talked about who might be a fox-- I happened to have a pretty big fox with me.  I don't remember who she suggested might be the fox.  But getting it up on stage was pretty easy, as I remember it.  Which I really don't.  I'm pretty sure somebody else did it.  It's all so overwhelming right there by the speaker and all the excitement and beer.  But this is what happened: go to Wildbeings on facebook.  You'll see.  Shovels and Rope tonight.  And I'll get to the fox stuff later.

flamingo, flamingone

I spent at least a week carrying around the flamingo. It was kind of big and too heavy in my purse.  It had pointy legs.  It was cumbersome.  Everybody thinks they're a bear or a wolf or a hawk-- but flamingo spirits are harder to come by.

With a little detective work and maybe one too many beers, I think I found my flamingo spirit.  Luckily, this guy is a regular and predictable bar patron who had vocalized his flamingo-ness to other bar patrons-- so I was pointed in the right direction and it only took me two visits to find him.

Flamingos know how to stand out in a crowd.  Obviously.  Which is why, even though they're rare, they're not hard to find.  They are preening and emotional-- and they know the importance of color.  They get color from diet, so if the pink stuff isn't available they will fade to white.  The flamingo spirit should take in those things that nourish their heart and soul-- the stuff that intensifies their bright color-- and stay away from the things that make them fade.

Don't fade away, Flamingo guy!  

Fame and fences

Firstly, the Yonder Mountain String band was awesome.  And with the help of one feisty red head and her super-tall husband, we were able to get a blackbird/crow/woodpecker on the stage right in front of the new mandolin player-- despite efforts by The Man to keep us back.

Let me just say, I LOVE Greenfield Lake Amphitheatre.  And I get it.  People sit on the stage and screw with the wires and likely spill beer where it shouldn't be spilled.  I see how a fence might seem like a good idea.  But it was weird.  And the whole front row just collectively decided to push it forward-- so it was pretty useless, really. 

Earlier this summer, you may have noticed, they started fencing off the little area in the woods where folks used to be able to listen for free.  And man, I get that, too, even though I think it's dumb.  I can't help but think that the tailgating will be tackled, homogenized, patrolled, and ruined soon enough-- just another reason to enjoy this amazing venue before the creeping tentacles of security and capitalism choke it out.

Fortunately, birds pay fences no mind.  They sing and they fly without fear or inhibition. Blackbirds, in particular, sing to sooth themselves, to communicate, to warn, and seemingly just to make music.  They tell us to heed warnings and omens.  To pay attention to signs from the universe and from nature. To listen carefully. This one has a yin-yang symbol on it's back and a heart on it's chest.  If you are in balance, and paying attention, your heart will pull you down the right path.  Yonder Mountain certainly seemed on the right path.  They let go of the showy mandolin player and the new one seemed a much better fit-- and the fiddler!  The FIDDLER!  

In other news: we're famous!  Wilma magazine did a little spread about this project.  It makes the whole thing seem so legitimate, doesn't it? 

 

Thank you for the encouragement spirit people!  And for all the help-- for laughing with us AND at us!  For getting jazzed about giving AND getting-- this is a great community...goodness all around! 

 

We will be out this weekend with the last batch from the late summer firing: buffalo, bear, deer, chipmunk-- and then back to the mud-oven for those of us who are fall animals.  Love to all the beautiful beasts!  Happy Labor Day weekend!

 

 

Grifters and gifters

     One of my favorite things about this project is recruiting new mules.  I can't be the only one out there dropping spirit animals in purses and pockets-- heck, I'm already starting to get recognized as oddball spirit animal person--anonymity is golden and this is a community art project, after all.  

     The thing is, giving the animals away is just as much fun as receiving them.  Some people immediately get that and want to be a part of it.  Last night at the Duck and Dive a friendly bearded weirdo got in the groove.  This dude is a natural.

     If you read this blog, you likely know that I stick these things in all kinds of places: crevices, bathrooms, unattended coats, etc.  Well, the best and the most difficult maneuver, the holy grail, is to get an animal in an actual pocket without being noticed. 
     On his very first attempt, this very talented animal placing beardo got a little bear in the back pocket of a tall swarthy fellow on the front stoop.  His pocket was wide open and wagging, but still, the dude was standing up-- and didn't feel the little bear go in, nor did he feel all the eyes on him as we watched it almost fall out, then work it's way down.  All completely unnoticed. 

     This happened to be a little galaxy bear: half dark, half light.  The thing with bears is this: they are often misunderstood.  Bears are often pegged to be aggressive, intimidating, but in reality, they just want that carton of eggs from your garbage dumpster.  They're hungry.  And then they want to sleep.  They're just being bears!  People with bear medicine generally have a dark side, but it only shows up when they're poked or threatened.  These folks would do themselves a favor to learn from that dark side-- to hibernate/meditate about how they turn that darkness into something lighter: art, music, humor, something.

     I also left a little arch-backed cat.  I called it a pooping cat, but my new bearded animal gifter preferred to call it a racing cat.  Either which way, this is a cat in the middle of something.  Racing or pooping?  I guess it depends on who it went to. You be the judge.    

trouble in birdland

It's been an interesting week over here in the beast factory.

Firstly, we had an interview and photo shoot with a local magazine!  The article is set, we think, to come out in the September issue.  More on that if (when) it actually happens. 

Secondly, we had our first ever experience where somebody was downright angry about a spirit animal.  It was a hummingbird.  And she was angry because I apparently gave it to her attractive husband weeks ago.  (I had no idea-- couldn't remember the guy or the beast, which she found very hard to believe.  Shows how much she knows about this project and the people running it.)  She went so far as to introduce me to the hummingbird husband-- who I still did not remember-- but I think the hummingbird was right on-- playful, fiercely independent (I mean, the wife wouldn't be so worried otherwise, right?) fast moving, turns on a dime.  Hummingbirds are filled with energy.  Until they're not.  Folks with a hummingbird totem need to be careful to refuel and rest once in a while or they'll burn out.   
      I tried to explain that I am interested in the animal spirits, not the human ones; but it was evident that this woman was not digging my dirt.  She was maybe a wolf spider.  Or a praying mantis.  Either which way, it was weird.  From now on, I'm going to be careful about animal spirits and married men...ha!  NOPE!  Ridiculous!

Lastly, Sunday SUPER Moon.  Happy last days of summer!  Watch your pockets, friends!


       

nuts and bolts

World tour is over.  Beasts wound up all over North Carolina, Virginia, Tennessee, even CostaRica.  They were left in trees, rocks, Volkswagen vans, bicycle baskets, and who knows where? 

A new batch is about to go in the fire.  An autumn batch.  Because the beginning of August always forgets to remind us that winter is right around the corner.  This is the part of the year when we tend to give up and forget what we're doing: Too hot to move.  Tomatoes and figs falling off the vines right into our sandwiches.  Nothing whatsoever to worry about.  And then the bugs eat the fruit.  And it keeps raining forever.  So we here at Wildbeings intend to enjoy the rest of this hot, muggy, wet summer, but store our nuts all the same.     

riverquest and back

We have been on a bit of a hiatus.  Not really.  Last week we went on a little vision quest-- made it all the way to the mountains of Virginia.  The experience was thick with animal encounters: turtles, fish, hawks, rabbits, deer; the usual.  But some unusual stuff as well: a butterfly wing fell on me from the sky -- and I was nearly peed on by a tiger. 

We met some human animals, too.  One fine fellow wound up being our camping butler, swimming hole bloodhound, river guide.  He was so clearly a red bear.  Unfortunately, I didn't have a bear with me.  But I'm pretty confident that I can get that guy his red river bear through this vast and growing spirit animal network..  One of these days.

Bottom line: we are river dipped-- renewed, refreshed, and ready. 

Big stuff coming up here at the beast factory.  A whole new batch is about to be fired.  Animals are about to go scattering across the state.  And we were recently mentioned in an article in SALT magazine.     

Making waves!  Check your pockets!  Check your socks!



         

House grouse and the dog days of summer

It's July!  Hurricane Arthur and Independence day are racing each other to the weekend.  Seems like chaos and entropy are about to be afoot. 

Last Sunday we put a chipmunk somewhere downtown. (I know, we've got to branch out a little from our typical dive bar haunts.  It'll happen.) Chipmunks are talkers.  Happy little talkers.

We gave away a grouse/partridge to a very capable gifter.  Surely it found it's place in the world.  We know two things about the grouse: 1. When coyotes pounce on field mice they create little paths for grouse chicks to get around.  Naturally when coyote populations are decimated these little paths cease to exist and those fluffy little grouse chicks get caught in the tall grass and die. 2.  Grouse have wings and can fly but they usually don't.  They prefer to stay close to the ground. 

Whoever got this little bird: you have wings!  Don't die in the grass!  Fly up!  Also, you'd be wise to remember we are all in some giant unfathomable symbiotic relationship.  I bet the grouse never looks at the coyote and thinks: we need each other.  But they do.

Speaking of coyotes, a whole batch of fired canines are about to hit the town for the dog days of summer: foxes, wolves, coyotes.  Keep your eyes peeled, Spirit People!

Post SUNday sunday

Post SUNday Sunday. 

It was a weird weekend.  Something in the air.  Summertime, I guess.

I gave a little bear to a nice couple from Murrells Inlet-- a couple doing shots of Rumplemintz at 3 in the afternoon.  I think I gave them a bear.  A bush bear, maybe.  Or a raccoon?

Bears can mean so many things-- but sending it out on the day after the summer solstice is a reminder that it's time to stop hibernating.  Solitude and rest are important, but they're not everything.  Stop thinking, start doing.  Come on out of the caves, bear people!

I think my father was probably part bear.  I've always had love for bears.  And I love the spring-- but I have to be honest, I'm glad it's over.  It's just so MUCH.  All that light all of a sudden: I think it tends to wash out some important details, illuminate things which maybe would be better off staying in the darkness.  It's hard to remember the lessons when you're hit with all that good light.

We've been bumbling around in the sunshine, half blind, going on smell and instinct-- but now our eyes are adjusting: I for one am seeing it.  Patterns, cycles, pitfalls.  Time to realign. 

It's a new world, bears.  And thank the Universe, it's finally summer!

Get your Goat

Met a friend for a quick get-away-from-the-husbands-and -kids-drink.  I love a good (or bad) open mic night.  And one guy sounded just like Joe Cocker.  Always interesting. And really, this was a perfect place for a goat.  Firstly, people with goat totems are bar types: heathens.  My favorites.  But they're also connected to the astrological Capricorn-- which is driven, goal oriented.  A great combination-- good folks to get into trouble with.  Goat people know how to prepare for the big climb-- and if playing an open mic night at a local dive bar isn't preparing for a big climb, heck, I don't know what is.

Plus, you know, the name of the bar has the word Goat in it. 

Be safe, dark goat.  Climb your mountain.    

Full Moon Friday the 13th! Wolf business.

Gosh who knows where these things wound up?  Snakes, turtles, bears, owls.  We must have set at least a dozen little animals free.  Here's what I remember:

The DJ at the Barbary got a rat.  My old friend Dave got a bear-cat.  A couple who loaned us a lighter got something.  I think we left a turtle out back on the porch there.  Left a snake in the bathroom of Caprice.  Left one at Cape Fear Beards and Weirdos hoping it will get to our turtle friend.  I know there were more...

So much fun.  And this is how it works: if you spend your whole night giving out spirit animals, take a cab home, and wake up having lost some of your keys and your wallet; the universe will put the keys in the gutter in front of your friend's house (and a memory in her head, and a little ray of sunlight on metal) and the wallet miraculously in the glove box of your car.

Thank you, Universe!  Thank you, wolf friends who helped me and took pictures and are so funny (where are those pictures, by the way?)!  And thank you, Barbary Coast! 

spacebook and the wooly world

We here at wildbeings are trying to jump into this Jetson-like future.  Due to popular demand (by which I mean, one person suggested it), we've started a facebook page!  We hope to make this project a little easier to connect with and follow.  But don't worry, we're not going anywhere (we're going everywhere!).  I don't plan to actually write anything on facebook... Maybe it'll be more like a scavenger hunt?  Still figuring it out.

Find us out there on facebook.  If you're brave.  And expect to see a whole pack-murder-nest-blessing of animals out there this week.  The full june moon is on it's way and it's going to be a good one!

Animal Sexism Wednesday

Out on a Wednesday afternoon.  Weird hour for spirit animal distributing.  Weird hour for people all around. 

I always thought of this meditating mountain lion as a female spirit-- I'm not sure why. Maybe the colors-- kind of fancy redish-pinkish- greenish-whitish?  Maybe it seems maternal with it's paws out like that?  Peaceful?  Open?  Happy?  Sitting there on the barstool it occurs to me that not a single one of the female patrons near me possess any of these qualities.   

But then a guys comes in.  A guy with a new job.  And a shirt he made himself-- as opposed to using the stand-issue job shirt.  Because he looks cooler in his shirt.  And he's happy.  And looks at people when he talks to them.  And he smiles.  With dimples.     
    
And it occurs to me that this is a MALE mountain lion!  And I am totally being a sexist!  Geez!

This is what I know about pumas/mountain lions/cougars/catamounts: they are one of the two known predators of the porcupine.  They are able to flip it and kill it without any harm to themselves.  So if one of these cats shows up in your life, it's probably about power: coming into your own and using it with finesse.  It suggests the trials have been worked through-- and now it's time to assert that power, take charge.

Goodbye mountain lion!  Good luck with the new job, smiley guy!

Goose Song

My six year old daughter takes placing the animals pretty seriously.  She's learning to spot the right people and she's getting good at the barter or the drop-- depending which is appropriate.  So yesterday afternoon we were at the Satellite Bar with this bird.  It's a swan.  Or maybe a goose.  Both.  And my daughter came running to me: she KNOWS who should have the swan/goose!  She's POSITIVE!  So she runs out to get the bird out of our van and when she gets back, sadly, her human bird was gone.

Normally we might just choose another person.  But geez she was so INSISTANT about this being the right person for this bird!  So we gave it to the bartender hoping she would get it where it was intended to go. 

Swans and geese are both ridiculously loyal.  Protective.  This one had her wings wrapped around herself: protecting herself and anyone in her wingspan.  It's probably a pretty safe place to be. And considering how this particular bird was so kind in making sure our small iffy children made it up the brick steps without breaking their faces, I'd say this part suits her well.

But also: A swan can break a human arm with the beat of it's wings.  And if you've ever been chased by a mean goose-- well, it's scary.  And they pinch.  So I'd guess this is not a person to be messed with.

Geese are loud, they honk, they are storytellers.  Geese are sky and ground.  Reasonable.  Reliable.  Inspiring in their ability to work as a team.  When they fly in formation, nobody flies directly behind anybody else; nobody has an obstructed view.  Geese help each other along.

Swans are sky and water.  They are often silent.  Loaners.  They are more about inner-beauty manifesting into outer beauty.  They represent poetic prowess and a child-like imagination.  Swan is like the fancy, romantic, counterpart to goose.       

So if you got this bird, friendly-brown-dog-bird-lady or whoever, you might struggle with which of your super powers to use and when.  Are you a beautiful silent bone breaker?  Or a helpful honking friend?  You'd be wise to remember that you are both!

So long goose/swan!  I hope you got where you were going!    

badger bugger

The Badger.  I gave it to some guy at the old Duck and Dive-- if I remember correctly he was complaining about doing dangerous work for some secret government agency.  So he's either crazy or very important.  Or both.  A badger, all the way. 

Here's the badger pre-firing-- with a copper ball in his arms and a crow on his head. 

 

Badger people are obviously tough and tenacious. That's the badger's most public quality:  they can be difficult.  They have a tendency to be evasive and secretive.  And grouchy.  To get to know a badger, one has to be like the badger and dig dig dig.

 

If you can deal with a badger long enough you might find that they have a knack for storytelling.  I've read native American myths where badgers are referred to as Story Keepers.  

 

If your the one who got the badger, you should probably keep talking, keep working, keep snarling.  Keep scraping away.  Do it with courage and purpose.  And look up out of that dark tunnel once in a while.

 

So there you go grouchy secret government guy, keep growling! 

Somethings happening here. What it is ain't exactly clear.

A good seven months ago and few hundred miles west, I left this weird guy on this sign post. 

I had been distributing these things for a while-- but never with any intentions to track them.  It just really amused me to imagine people finding them in their pockets or helmets or lunchboxes.  Still does.  So this was before the tracking.  No tags.  Naked.

Since the very beginning  I have had people out there helping me-- other people that have been equally amused by this project.  People who have been brave or drunk enough to approach an open pocket or purse.  People who have been discerning enough to be able to tell a hawk from a goat and a pelican from a frog.  People who think it's funny or fun or meaningful or whatever. 

This weird blobby melty guy belongs to one of them.  I didn't even make him.

I took the picture because I wanted to share his placement with the gal that made him.  And then I left him there, on that sign, to find a home.  In October.  Near Asheboro.

SO...  Last night, in perhaps the weirdest most unlikely spirit animal occurrence EVER, I found THIS SAME WEIRD GUY in a planter on Water Street in downtown Wilmington. 

So he's back in my house now.  Back to the land of his conception.  And I have to be honest: it kind of freaks me out. 

 

What, what, what is the universe trying to tell me?  Should I expect them all to come back?  Is this some crazy trippy synchronicity?  Is the blob MY spirit animal?  Or maybe I should be worried that some nut job is following me around trying to make me lose my mind?  (Well played, Nut Job.  Well played.)

 

No, no, no... certainly it's good luck, right? 

 

One thing is for sure: It's a very weird world out there, folks.  VERY WEIRD! 

 

fitz, tantrums, fractures

Fitz and the Tantrums were a great time!  It's been a long time since I've seen an anthem band.  Danced up a storm!  And they played The Pretenders! 

I got two lovely little beasts out there.  One was an eagle.  The eagle I threw over the fence.  I don't think it hit anybody, but who knows?  If you were having a fine time and then suddenly got brained by a little blue eagle... I have no idea about any of it.  But you might like to know that I fell down my steps last night.  Universe?  Are we even?

The little hooded crow went off with some friends.  Who knows where it ended up?

I have a few of these hooded crows.  If you found this bugger, I suspect you are a part of something greater than you know.  You're not as weird as you think you are-- there are other hooded crows around.  And maybe theses crows don't recognize each other because their magic is hidden-- all cloaked up.  Open your eyes! 

Duck, duck, cow

Out on the town with a little meditating brown cow.

I've had my fair share of problems with the old Duck and Dive and have been boycotting them for a while.  Mostly a mental boycott.  But they had a dream team of bartenders in there last night, so I broke the boycott for a beer. 

The woman working the door... I've seen her.  I've heard her.  She was in the Barbary, months ago, and I remember she came in all worked up, telling a story-- she used the term "double d backpack"-- I have no idea what it means, but I wrote it down in my notebook I was so impressed by it.  Hilarious. And here she is, working the door at the Duck, making me fill out a membership while I'm half-drunk.  When she spoke I recognized the voice.  So she gets the cow. 

And you know I love cows.  Especially on mother's day.  Cows are The Great Mothers-- in all the important ways-- protective and strong and giving.  They take care of their herd.  Lots of integrity in the cow.  Lots of spirit, too. 

The best thing about cows: they don't sweat the small stuff.  There is grass everywhere.  They eat the grass.  They enjoy life.  They march forward.  They SENSE danger-- in their bones-- so they don't have to waste time or headspace worrying.  Cows know that there is PLENTY. 

There is a Scandinavian legend that a primordial cow rose from the frozen earth, licked the ice, and that's how life began.  And you know the Hindus with their sacred cows.  Point is: cows are important.  Maybe we should think about them.  And our mothers.  And mothers in general.  And moon goddesses.

Happy Moon Herders Day! 





     

Feathers, furs, and fins

    
     Beasts are slowly and randomly still making their way into the world.  I stuck something in a window corner at the Brooklyn Arts Center during Stephen Marley-- maybe a little goat? 

  Then there was the one-legged white goose I left in a planter in front of Buddy's.  Seems lots of folks leave lots of things at Buddy's.  I've found a hat there and a lapel pin from Nasa, and people of every variety.  It's a finder's keeper's kind of place.  You know the thing about geese-- they don't leave each other behind.  If one goose is wounded, the other's will wait with him til he dies.  Whoever found this one, I suspect you are a good friend.  Or you should think about what that means.

     Also, I gave away a land-loving seahorse at Hall and Oates-- to a very sweet poi and hoop spinning lady in the liquor garden.  Male seahorses carry babies and give birth-- and this one loves dry land.  Like the hanged man of the tarot-- this guy is about looking at things in a different light, expecting the unexpected-- not everything is obvious and static.  Something might just surprise you.

     I have a good many more to distribute in the next week.  But here's the big news:  We are close to reaching 1000 visits on this blog.  Be prepared.  My stealthy cohorts and I are planning a bombing.  Spirit Animals everywhere!  Raining from the sky like cats and dogs and locusts!  Soon!        

Tipping is NOT a city in China

Here's what happened:  I only had a total of $12.  I mean, I have a credit card, but that leaves a trail.  So rather than use the card, I tipped a pelican.  I feel kind of bad about it.  A pelican won't buy you a sandwich or pay your rent.  I did tip $2 on the first beer-- I guess my generosity could have been better tempered.

Pelicans don't seem very aerodynamic.  That's the beauty of them.  How can such a bird float AND fly?  It doesn't seem possible.  But it is!  People with pelican totems need to remember that they are buoyant.  No matter how many times they dive down, they will always pop back up.  Life can't sink a pelican, they are made unsinkable.
 
Also, they don't store things in that long bill of theirs, they only collect and scoop with it.  If the pelican found you, you may want to think a little bit about what you're holding onto and what you're digesting.

A few days ago I watched a pelican take off from the water.  It was iffy.  Certainly not graceful.  Water represents emotions-- the one thing that can bog down the pelican.  Don't let emotions keep you from flying. 

I made that pelican for someone specific-- but it had been sitting around way too long.  It was starting to seem sad to me.  And then I got to thinking about how people wait around all their lives-- waiting for the right person to come along.  And then I thought, who am I to decide who the pelican belongs to?  It can decide for itself.  Good luck, little pelican.       

Mudbeings

Oh, Shakori Hills, I love you.

It was a mudfest-- as we all know.  But those Indigo Girls are still so awesome.  And we made friends!  And the animals went all around. 

My 6 year old daughter and her new festie friends, Kelsey and Tanner, went all around "selling" the beasts.  They traded and haggled and who knows what-- but it was keeping them busy.  They actually came back with $35 dollars.  A little gang of smiley-faced kids in raincoats are better than anybody at marketing weird things.  I swear, some people had no idea what they were buying--  they were just so charmed. :)

I gave a few away.  Didn't get the buffalo where I wanted.  Next time. I got a bear to a rockhound guy that sold us an amazing druzy quartz.  I know I'll get the karma back from that one.  Such a friendly guy.  Wilmington roots.  And the bear suited him-- rock holding paw and everything. 

At least five were just placed around.  To the wind!

Let us know if you found one.  We'd like to know that they made it out of the mud.  Happy spring, easter, 420, pagan sex day, Ishtar, Passover.  Happy happy.
 

On the Road

We are headed out today to spread this vibration across the state.  At least halfway across.  I've got a large buffalo I'm going to try to get to Donna the Buffalo.  And geez we have enough smaller animals loaded in the old VW van to start a zoo.  Shakori Hills grassroots festival is about to be spirit animal bombed. 

Also, the brave green turtle found a great home: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=1468405390057006&set=a.1428601604037385.1073741828.1428557827375096&type=1&theater

It's going to be a terrific weekend!  Happy pagan sex day!

where the wildthings were (not at widespread)

Three little beauties made their way into the world last night: a vulture, a tortoise, and a flounder-hawk.  The beasts are getting bigger and better as it's nearing the end of this winter batch.

It was a late one, but worth it to see Melvin Seals and his awesome back up singers.  I put the vulture on a speaker and took a picture-- a little while later it was still there, so I knocked it into an open purse. 

I put a little green standing tortoise amongst the glass pipes at the Lovelight table.  This isn't your typical turtle.  He's a brave one.  Out of his shell.  Somebody got that one, for sure.  I wanted to get the vulture over there, you know, a commentary on selling art and all, but the vulture couldn't stand on his own and we were getting weird looks by then.

The flounder-hawk went with a guy in a red baseball hat who was dancing dancing dancing and having a really great time.  Spreading a good vibe.  I handed it to him while passing by.  I said, "Just take it." He did.  Flounderhawk.  Fish AND feather.  This guy must be something. 

All in all it was a good one.  I love the old school grateful dead crowd.  They totally get this spirit animal business. 

forgotten owl

A little blind owl was found at The Dubliner-- I hardly remembered sticking him there.  But I saw it posted on facebook.  (I decided to remove the link as it reveals my true identity...)

The fellow who found the owl doesn't think he's a blind owl and plans to get it to the right blind owl soon enough.  Between you and me, I think he might be the blind owl. 

Owls are full of magic and intuition and wisdom.  They normally have very keen eyesight.  This one has no eyes at all.  Maybe he doesn't see things clearly.  Maybe he doesn't see himself clearly.  Maybe he has all those owl powers but refuses to use them.  Maybe he thinks he's a duck.

Once, when I was a teenager, I was snorkeling in the Dominican Republic.  I was high and sunburnt and inching along a little coral outcropping when I saw an eel poking his head out of a hole. It freaked me out.  I tried to swim away from it but I had somehow gotten myself surrounded by coral.  I was trapped.  Just as I was really starting to panic, I realized the water was shallow and I could just stand up.

Same as the blind owl.  Most of his obstacles are in his imagination.

Wherever it goes, I hope the little blind owl brings with it this idea:  Change the way you're looking at the problem.  Maybe the water is shallow and you can just stand up.

Goodbye, Owl!

GFLA opening! One of the smallest, quaintest, best outdoor venues ever.  Umphrees Mcgee.  This show was really LOUD.  I was standing by a speaker and the sound was blowing my hair back.  Or maybe it was the wind.  The loud rock and roll wind.

I left a little sitting deer on the speaker.  When I did it, some stranger a few rows back gave me a thumbs up.  I watched for a while but nobody grabbed it.  I feel like the speaker animals usually get got by the sound techs.  But who knows?  And the thumbs up made me feel accomplished-- like that stranger was in on the game, like this project is really digging in.

I gave a small hedgehog to a very large hippie dude.  Handed it right to him.  He seemed super unimpressed.  Like, oh geez, "you people and your  hedgehogs."  But the truth is: the guy was a hedgehog if I ever saw one.  King of hedgehogs, maybe.

Big couple of weeks coming up.  Lots of outside music.  Lots of animals.  Lots of spirit.  Stay tuned.

Spring Fever

It's spring!  Little animals everywhere are busting out of their holes and caves and eggs.  I'm seeing lots of foxes out there.  And rabbits.  And hungry bears.  And chickens.  And everybody is sniffing at the air and waiting-- not sure how to use the new spring love vibes-- run in circles?  Dig a hole?  Eat a worm?

Last night was an experiment in perspective.  I left three animals:  a three legged shepherd dog, a tropical bird, and a turtle.  But I didn't place them with specific people-- just left them around: one on an ATM machine at the Blind Elephant, one in a hole in the wall at Buddy's, and one in the jukebox corner at the Barbary Coast.   It's more fun to place them with specific people, but it was weird weather-- lightening and rain-- and people were weird-- still in their shorts with sunglasses on their heads and seemingly not sure how it wound up to be Saturday night all of a sudden.  It seemed like a good idea to just set the little beasts free.

I watched two people use the ATM at the blind elephant and neither of them saw the little dog who was RIGHT THERE at eye level.  People are so funny! 

I can only hope the little beasts got sniffed out and found by the right folks.  Either way, they're free to roam.

Happy Spring!

Turtles among us

Last night I was with some friends at The Barbary, looking for a natural turtle.  The first obvious turtle had on a too-small winter hat (didn't even cover his ears) and a giant backpack.  I had just carefully, with sweaty palms, unzipped the front pocket of said backpack, and was about to drop the little tortoise, when the gentleman-turtle inched himself off his barstool and made for the back door.  We waited a little while but he disappeared, turtled off the back deck somehow, I guess. 

A second natural turtle presented herself.  I tried.  But it seems I had lost my confidence with the first hiccup, so my husband dropped it in her open purse on his way to the bathroom. 

Turtles live where water and land meet-- they live in constant states of change and flux.  Yet by being balanced and stable and slow, they remain truly at home wherever they go because they are their own little travel trailers.  Turtles remind us that we have what we need, we carry it with us. 

Here he is, with Lauren, looking for his home.  So long, little turtle, hope you got in the right pocket!

road weasels and pocket chipmunks

The weather was warm so the Satellite Bar was busy.  I was feeling brave and placed two animals in very intimate places.  Got a little chipmunk IN a guy's pocket.  It fell out.  Laughter ensued.  The guy thought I was crazy but he was a good sport.  Reverse pickpocketing is hard!

The chipmunk is smart.  And talkative.  Chipmunks are about chatter, banter, socializing.  If a chipmunk finds you, you likely excel in storytelling. We live on stories.  So you are a life saver!

I dropped a little weasel in a girl's motorcycle helmet on her way out the door.  Hopefully her scalp wasn't injured.  I think that weasel really needed a ride-- fingers crossed he didn't wind up roadkill. 

According to what I've read, weasel medicine is all about observation.  Most people with weasel medicine are underestimated, people don't recognize how magical they are.  If the weasel comes into your life, pay attention.  Observe quietly.  Know that laying low and waiting for the right moment is an important tool and you are gifted in doing just that.  

Carolina Chocolate Drops.  I've never seen them perform before.  This band is so... smart.  And authentic.  Really incredibly talented folks. 

I left a little billy goat.  Goats are all about fortitude, sure-footedness, progress.  They are about climbing high and affording yourself a new perspective.  They are about sticking it out, even when everything seems impossible. 

This goat is missing an arm, he's a three legger, a tripod-- but he has an eagle spirit.  And I guess maybe that's his message:  When your legs won't cooperate, let yourself fly.  Four legs might be the tried and true way for a goat to climb up a mountain, but it's not the only way, or even the best way.  Don't get caught up in what a goat is supposed to do.  Not every goat is lucky enough to have an eagle heart-- don't waste what makes you special, even if it sometimes feels like a disadvantage.                    

Goodbye, goat!  Fly!  Good luck!

Well here we are.  All of the new years have been celebrated: regular January 1st New Year, Imbolic, Candlemas, Groundhog Day, Chinese New Year, My Personal New Year, My Personal New Year redo, we even had an ice storm for good measure.  We are firmly planted in 2014.  The wheel is turning.

I have been working on a few commissioned animals the past few weeks and some other art projects so things have slowed.  I did place a raccoon somewhere... possibly The Blind Elephant, but things got a little crazy that night and I remember it being one of those cases where people seemed to be afraid to pick it up.  So weird.

Anyway, I just about have a kiln full of new beasts so we should be back on the streets in no time.  I have a few little guys from the last batch that still need to go--  it gets harder to give them away towards the end.  I guess because the best of every batch get saved for last-- because I like to get to know them and sit them on my shelves for a while.  Because they look cool all grouped up.  But we all know they have to go.  That is the project.  So keep a lookout for the back-to-back bears, a turtle, and a barn owl... finding homes this weekend.

Jam!

 

groundhog day

This is how it went down.
Holly Williams opening for Jason Isbell.  Crowded.  I'm standing by the coats, there is a purse hanging there and I'm considering making the drop.  I overhear some guys nearby talking about how half those coats will still be there tomorrow.  I tell them about the spirit animals and how I stick them in the pockets of unattended coats.  We discuss how it's a friendly thing, a nice surprise, not an old banana peel or something.  I show them the animal.  It's a groundhog.  The guy says, "Why don't you save yourself the trouble and go ahead and stick it here in my pocket."  I say, "Well, are you a groundhog?"  He says, "Every fucking day of my life."

Enjoy your groundhog, Groundhog Guy!

It's a new year.  2014.  Year of the horse.   

I predict a great year for underground bloggers and homeless spirit animals.  There is something about this project-- it's digging in, it's starting to shine. 

It's a good feeling-- this idea that I am producing and putting something positive into this world.  Spreading the light.  These animals have provoked thought and conversation and research and animal spirit love.  And we've had a lot of fun, too.

In 2013 all the light I let go came back to me doubled and brighter-- and I discovered whole reserves of light that I didn't even know I had. 

Goodbye, snake!  Hello, horse!  Here's to staying on the light side!





Stop talking about clearing your head. Clear your fucking heart instead.-- Charles Bukowski