The doors of perception: snakes and pregnant ladies

     I've had a thing for animals my whole life.  A kinship, maybe.  My older brother grew up afraid of the forest.  Afraid of getting lost.  Afraid of beetles and slugs and gray, featherless, baby birds.  Afraid of dirt. 
     I grew up deathly afraid of my older brother.
     So all the dirt and the beetles and the baby birds were on my side.  I spent so long hiding just inside that treeline that I eventually trained a chipmunk to eat peanuts from my hand.

     The universe loves me, but thinks I'm stupid.  I say this because I seem to get really obvious signs.  Always have.  Unmistakable signs.  Signs only an idiot would ignore.
     True to form, I mostly ignore them.  Like the time a coyote walked right up to me.  Or the time a luna moth landed on my hand. 
 
     But I guess sometimes the time is right. 

     My dog died when I was 8 months pregnant. 
     That night, I had a dream that there was a man standing in my backyard.  A homeless man, I thought.  He didn't seem dangerous.  But he wasn't safe, either.  He was just there.  And he was wearing shiny, black, snakeskin pants.

     When I woke up to let the other dog outside, she barked.  And pounced.  And there it was: a real snake in the backyard.  Right where the man in my dream had been standing.  A long black snake. 

     When I was pregnant, I suddenly started noticing pregnant women all over the place.  So many pregnant women!  It's like somebody switches on a special light and suddenly your perception shifts and you are able to notice this thing you never did.  It's the same with the spirit animals.  Once you start seeing them, you see them everywhere.

     My father died a little over a year ago.  The morning after seeing him wheeled out, my first glimpse of waxy dead feet; my mother and I sat on the screen porch in that weird state of grieving shock. 

     My mom said she was worried.  We are all atheists from a long line of non-believers, but we are people with spirit.  My mother had opened a window for my father's ghost to get out of the house.  She didn't like the idea of him bouncing around in there all freed from his body.  She worried that she should have opened all the windows, that he wouldn't find just the one.  He was never very detail oriented.

     Just as she finished saying it, a great long black snake slithered out from under the porch.  He stopped, raised his head, and turned to look right at us. "Oh, there he goes." She said, so calmly, and took a drag from her cigarette.  "He found it."

     Two important deaths.  Two snakes.  And so started my obsession with reading animal signs. Which maybe the universe has been asking me to do for a very long time.  But thankfully, the universe persists.  Because we both know I'm stupid.
 

Back in the saddle

Saturday night the beasts were out in full force.  I had a few helpers and managed to get a little pig up on stage at the Infamous Stringdusters show.  He's there, hiding by the wires.

Also slipped a handsy owl in an open purse-- not sure the woman had owl magic... likely not as she was wearing a hat that said "fuckin wasted" (and nope, it was not her birthday.  I asked.)-- seems not very owl-like.  But she had spunk.  And an open purse. 

Got the little bee in some dread's open coat pocket.  It was a stealth maneuver.  But she seemed like a bee.  So that was a good one. 

All in all a good rainy Saturday night.

Beast Coast

Very excited to be sending a beast or two to the West Coast this week with some very capable mules.  These little buggers will be looking for homes in San Francisco, Sausalito, hopefully Bob Weir's backyard (or his beard.)  Feeling jazzed to be spreading this spirit animal love and luck across the whole country-- cause even though the West Coast might be the best coast, the east coast is for sure the BEAST COAST.

 

My six year old daughter is in on the fun.  After many moves, she found a home for this seal.  I think it ended up in a black members-only jacket pocket.  This is what happens when you leave your coat unattended.

The tiger with the broken arm used to have a feathery wing... but you know, some cats aren't meant to fly.  Some cats are meant to walk the muddling earth, mud beings.  Plus, one wing makes you fly in circles.  Where'd this guy go?  My memory is all blinking and flashing lights-- over stimulated, over served.  I feel like I dropped him in a drink?  So sorry if that's true.


The whale probably shattered into a million pieces.  Right after I took the picture I purposefully knocked it off the speaker.  Goodbye, whale and one armed tiger-cat!

Beasts are pre-gaming.

Leftover Buffalo

I wish I had a salmon for leftover salmon.  I had this little white buffalo.  Somebody saw me leave it and was like "yeah, I get it... they're from Colorado, you know, part of the herd."  Whatever that means.  I don't even know if it's true.  But it's awesome. 
Gone to find his herd! 

I've been on a bit of a hiatus.  But here is a brand new batch of beasts ready for glazing!  They'll be out on the town soon.  Keep your eyes peeled, Wilmington!

This place

It seems like a lot of them end up here:

 

This worm doesn't have the website on it.  And half of it's face is broken off (the other half.)  Good bye worm!  I hope it becomes a butterfly.

This weekend we were marching and skipping and dancing through Shakori Hills Fall Festival.  After many false placements, we finally left this little tortoise on a log by a bridge.   He has the website on him, but the place was so full of art installations, that I wonder if he won't just sit on that log forever.  Which would be fine.

But if by some chance, this tortoise found you, please leave a comment and tell us about it!

The begining is never the begining

For nearly a year I have been placing these little ceramic spirit animals all over town.  They've been dropped in the unsuspecting and open purses of concert-goers, propped up in planters at restaurants, wedged up high and down low in countless dive bar bathrooms.  Occasionally, I'll give one away straight by hand.  Sometimes I have something that I don't want to sacrifice to the masses-- a cool bear, say.  If I meet some friendly bear-type in line for the bathroom or something, he might get it.  If it strikes me.

The idea is that they go where they go.  The spirit animal finds the person that needs it. 

I always thought it would be cool to track or tag them but never tried-- sent them off naked, no names, no place of origin. 

Until now!

If you are here, one of the tagged buggers has likely found you!  How lucky you are!

Please share the circumstances by which you were united with your animal.  I'd love to hear which way the wind blows them and where they wind up!