Mask Work

Over the course of my 30's and 40's I was fortunate enough to participate in an amazing series of intensive workshops with Marion Woodman, Mary Hamilton and Ann Skinner.  Their creation was called "BodySoul Rhythms" and over the course of eight days we would work on dreams, imagery, healing, movement and voice.

In the process we would create a Mask.  They were never to be considered "art" nor are they for display.  But rather these Masks are containers, holders of energy, and tangible expressions to work with as we would bring deep material up from the unconscious.  Powerful stuff.  Changed my life.

This was my first.

The energy I was working with was vast, vibrant, colossal, natural and sad.

The painted eyes are wide open, but the ability to see through the small holes (when worn) was quite limited.

I found that very much a part of the energy - it was very big and very powerful, but I couldn't see where I was going.

This energy felt royal and regal.  Her eyes are wide open.  Her copper skin is rich and warm.

The energy here was a major movement in differentiation and maturity.

I was in the midst of great learning, and I was integrating so much understanding - mostly of dreams but also of Jung's writings.

During this time I also decided to go back to school.

This Mask was a lot of fun, and an amazing experience.

Working with Masculine energy - so focused and also Nature.  Delving into Green Man Myths and seeing him appear in my dreams was a real joy.

During this time I was becoming more comfortable with paradox.  I was letting go of so many of my childhood viewpoints.  I began to take full responsibility for my life.

 I felt strong.


There are four more Masks.  Each a different stage, each with something to teach me.  Each still carries an enormous amount of energy and learning for me.

I could put on any of these Masks and move into the space that it holds.  Feeling the richness of my past and also be connected to my present.  I use them in movement, allowing my body to feel what the "newness" such a difference in consciousness makes.

This may all sound pretty flaky.  I get that.

But I tell you these parts of my life because today I did something entirely new, different and it has had a profound affect on me.

I went to the funeral home and I made a "Mask" of Ann's hand.  Her one good hand.  I was able to hold and honor her hand - the same one held and loved by her parents, sisters and friends throughout her life.   I was able to bring my full attention and love this one part of her precious body that won't be going on any more.  She has exquisite long fingers, so strong and so graceful.  I know my work isn't professional or artisanal, and it certainly isn't perfect.  But it is filled with love.

I will sand and finish the edges, and then give this to her parents and sisters.  They may want to embellish or paint it.  They may want to do nothing.  But I am so glad I was able to do this work - to give them this memorial.  I don't imbue this with any magic or sacredness - other than the precious hand on which it was modeled.

I continue to be moved by the experience.

Beautiful Lawson

This beautiful, talented young woman died recently ... and our hearts are still broken.

I watched her grow up. Not within the deeply grieving inner circle that is her large and loving family ... but as someone whose child knew her, and we had her over to our house many times, and we shared many hours together at barns and horse shows around the Southeast.

She was always cheerful, one of those people that makes you smile just to look at. She had an infectious sense of humor, and a naturally sunny disposition. This came in handy when dealing with horses - I would watch my daughter bubble over with frustration and anger ... and invariably Lawson would interject something funny, some understanding commiseration and always some encouragement.

The politics of horses flowed over her (and her mother) with ease and so they were friends to everyone, enemy to none.

Her death was a shock ... is a shock ... and we still reel from it when it inevitably crosses our minds and hearts throughout the day.

I recently looked at the page on our local paper and was absolutely DISGUSTED by the comments left .... good god, what a heartless bunch of yahoos that have access to a computer.

I just wanted to include this picture, and to make a space for this incredibly beautiful and sweet young woman to be remembered.

Nothing is Funny. Nothing.

I am sitting here in my house in a state of utter disbelief and shock.

A young woman, a friend of my daughter's, was admitted to the hospital yesterday with Meningitis. And now she is gone. Gone. I don't have any details - what good are they anyway? I feel muscles in my heart ripping apart.

This beautiful child was an absolute joy. She was strong. Intelligent. Funny. Gorgeous. Friendly. She rode horses with a strength and vigor that surprised people around the country. She was talented and unique.

I'm simply sobbing. I want to be able to write so much more and to write something that will matter, that will grab bits and pieces of who she was before they are gone ....

I see her standing in my house in the middle of the night at a slumber party, coming up with tricks and games and feeling so totally at home that she made me feel even more at home in my own home....