Art Garden Planning

Eureka
Hello hello

Garden of Artists

Well George … Almost time to be thinking about the Garden of Artists …
Maybe write a poem or a song … Paint a picture … a vision of Spring …

Yes, I realize it’s still bitterly cold around the shores of Chaleur Bay. But the thaw has to happen eventually.

What is it? What is the Spring Garden of Artists? Well since you seem interested …

February begins with a new Celtic season appropriate to thinking about gardens and planning for Spring and getting things ready.

No George … The Spring Garden of Artists is Not an English Country Garden … Not at all … More like a Wild Flower Garden.

The Garden of Artists is not about neat little plots or pc containers with well-defined labels lined up according to tongues or nationalities or politics. Neither is about gender nor religious beliefs.

The Garden of Artists It is about independent artists getting together and sharing art … Visual art … Music … Songs … Drama … Creative Writing … Dance …

No George, I have no idea what sort of flowers will sprout. That’s the thing about wildflowers. You may spread the seeds but you never know how they will take or what wonder-blooms might appear …


Check it out George
Chaleur Bay … Where else?
http://www.chaleurbay.me

Cookin’ Goose

Cookin’ Goose

Eureka
Hello hello

Disclaimer:
This website is an ongoing story in the making of a rock opera. The author and main character is a Canadian-Celtic Granny elder …..
Disclaimer continues … one day at a time … juggling ideas and trying to find those red shoes …

Today Granny thinks back to the last year of the last century, 1999 to be precise.

GRANNY: OK George here’s the story … Why I threw in the bit about the goose … Because that’s what everone thought at the time … Just a silly silly Silly old goose … Never took her seriously …
The going concensus was … That goose deserved to be cooked … Poking her nose in where it wasn’t wanted … writing terrible trash she called poetry … she really should have known better. Siily old Biddy.

Fifty is a lot of years waiting around for wisdom to settle in. Obviously not in her case. If it had … Well you know how it is … If only she had kept her lips buttoned. She would … Well, she might have done a wee bit better for herself.

The story? Well it goes like this … It was Spring of 1999. The old biddy was becoming somewhat desperate. Everywhere she went it was the same. No job. Not even the most menial. She tried everywhere. Of course no one would admit that it was her age preventing them from hiring her … That would look like discrimination.

So there she was in May of 1999, struggling to find work. The poor soul became so despondent about her economic situation that on some days she could barely hold back tears. There were days when she hid home alone trying to gather the courage to keep going. On days when she was brave enough to venture forth she tried to keep a positive attitude and a smile as door after door after door slammed in her face.

Not once did anyone admit that it was her age they held against her. They all claimed it was her attitude … That was what they whispered to one another after slamming every door she tried to open ever so gently.

She even tried consulting with the experts. Beyond advising her that her attitude was all wrong, none ever actually gave her any concrete help. Experts told her it wasn’t simply about getting a job. You had to show that you were developing a career, preferably in computers, networking with the right people and doing volunteer work for the most popular causes of the day.

It didn’t take her long to realize that what all these experts meant by “right attitude” was they expected her to go through the motions of pretending that she greatly appreciated their reams of expert opinion and advice. It only agitated them if she dared venture the “been there done that” response.

So finally in May 1999 she cooked her goose by writing a batch of … Hmmmm well at the time she was hardly in a state to offer anything resembling polished poetry … So what to call it … She called it Warts Warts and More. The shabby self-made book of eleven pages of writing and drawings was not very successful. Looking at it today … Well George … I think the old Biddy was in pretty bad shape. She dared to say such things … And what happened to her George?

So, her goose was cooked … And the happy pills they gave her … What about the Happy Pills? George, what was that? … That spurt of insane laughter … Did you hear it?
Cpyright 2015 MSO

Not An Organization

Not An Organization

Eureka
Hello hello
Not an organization
Maybe a Druid space
In the making
Around our shore
Not eligible for donation
Nothing so tangible
As to enable ablation
Or fig-leaf for oblation
Neither prestige
Nor power in numbers
Anyone might overlook
Simple spirit in training
Wanting to connect
Without a creed
No church, no prayers
No rules or regulations
Nothing like that
No reclamation
Of reformed whatever
They used to be
No guarantee of grace
A mission statement only
Build our creative space
Welcome yearners all
Copyright 2015 MSO