Here is a quote from The Calendar of the Soul by Rudolph Steiner. It is the quote for the 46th week (February 16-22). I feel it speaks to the theme of this series of drawings.

The world is threatening to stun

The inborn forces of my soul;

Now, memory, come forth

From spirit depths, enkindling light;

Invigorate my inward sight

Which only by the strength of will

Is able to sustain itself.

I am dedicating this drawing series to my mother’s mother Laura Ann Krebs Ely of York, Pennsylvania. As I was writing my thoughts about the theme of this series, I was drawn to the quality of relationship I had with my grandmother. I also had some other indications that she is supporting me in this work. So, it’s just perfect to dedicate this series to her!

I dedicated the first drawing series to John Paul McDowell, my father’s father. He died when my dad was fourteen, so I never knew him. I learned what I knew from scraps of information and a few stories I heard from my dad and Aunt Annie. I feel him in my heart, nevertheless.

Whereas John Paul was born in Glasgow, Scotland to parents from Northern Ireland, the Krebs line had emigrated from Germany to settle in York County before the Revolutionary War. Grandma had deep roots in York County, where she was born on a farm (she moved to the city of York when she was fourteen).

I grew up spending a good half of the time at my Grandma’s house. Our bond was so deep that even now I mine it for meaning. Grandma was a firecracker, fast on her feet, quick-witted, and down to business. On the other hand, she was deeply devout. She passed at age 98. One of the last times I saw her she said to me with a twinkle in her eye, “Next time you see me, you’ll be looking at me. But I may not see you!”

That was Grandma.

I am almost finished the first drawing in a second series of drawings; the first series, called “Things Are Alive,” was the one that brought forth this blog. The title of the series is “Art in the Making:Entering the Void with the Eyes Open.” The purpose is to find the mystical in the ordinary. It’s kind of scary, but I’m looking forward to the journey. The picture was given to me by a man in Cushendall whose identity I do not know. I love it because I feel it shows who I am at this point in time. Thank you to the anonymous  photographer!

The tower is pumping up for St. Valentine’s Day. Thanks to Ben for the pinkifying!

Maybe St. Brigid blessed us with an extra portion of snow this year!

“In You We Trust”. The People of Cushendall. The ancestors. John Hirst. Zippy Kearney and Family. Hugh and Winnie McAteer. The Glens Hotel. Blaine’s Art Supplies. Charlotte McFadden at Cushendall Library. Anne McCambridge at Cushendall Library. George and Debra at Side Street Espresso. Liz Weir. Brian. Ben. Anda. Aravel Garduno. Nina Stehr. Elizabeth Romig. Leon Webber. Raymond Watson. Terry and Renee Keenan. Kiran Dempsey. Kay at Celtic Crafts. Dominic Kearney. Musicians of Cushendall sessions at Johnny Joe’s. Mara Freeman. Keith McDowell (my uncle, recently deceased). Ann McDowell Neier (my aunt). Christine Augusta McDowell (my sister). Martin McCarron. Modern Dwellers. Karen Ely McHenry (my aunt). John O’Connor. Grace Merritt. Frances Logan Saylor (Brian’s mother). Lois Ann Ely McDowell (my mother). Teeka Ballas at F Magazine. The hot dog vendor. Vincent at Glens Computers. Eddie Lenihan. Laura Simms. Ann McDowell La Plant (my cousin). Tricia Brennecke (my cousin). Una. Julie Graham. P.J. Hill. Alex Fife. Marian at The Pepper Mill. Charlie. Henri Cartier-Bresson. John Bennett. Marcus Patton. Joseph and Vivi Ferris. Sam Ruscica. Natalie Goldberg. My spiritual teachers. And many others… on both sides…

The book is finished! It took a while to: draw the front cover, find a way to make the pictures stick to the pages properly, and do the handwritten portions. I will send this copy with John Hirst back to the tower. I will finish the second copy, which I will keep.

The Fairy Tree on Tiveragh, the fairy hill, is the perfect cover drawing. It represents both the culmination of my project and the kickoff for the next project. I was lead directly to the mystical world as I pursued this project. The next series will dive right into that world. I don’t know where it will take me, and that makes it exciting!

Wednesday was St. Brigit’s Day. After weeks of extreme cold, St. Brigit’s Day brought warm winds– thirty degrees felt balmy! I built a special fire in St. Brigit’s honor, adding a piece of the turf that Terry had given to us. As the smoke entered the night sky, I imagined that the smoke made its way to Cushendall.

SAINT OF THE FLAME
…she shall arise like a shining sun… — Lives of Saints, The Book of Lismore