A friend took me to the art opening of Mary Edna Fraser’s latest silk batik.   Using aerial photos that Mary Edna shot from a family plane, she reproduces spectacular images of Carolina's coasts, icebergs, and my favorite included a shot of Europe with Italy’s famous boot, visible from the soul-blue of outer space.  (She used NASA photos for this one not her own shot).  She’s exhibited her work at the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum in Washington, D.C. and says she’s been flying with her father since she was two weeks old.  The colors of her palette express the softness of the Carolina coast light.   Her eyes sparkled deep blue.  Just one look in those eyes brings an overwhelming sense of peering into the heart of mother earth.  

 

“I dreamed I was wearing turquoise blue bell bottom pants,” she said during her opening.  In the dream she towered above the world and walked from place to place; from her aerial vista she reassured everyone that all would be well despite the panic and world weariness of the recent stock market madness, worry about economy, climate change and fear.  Mary Edna’s work intends to draw attention to the impact of human interaction on the global environment, but she does it in a way that uplifts and feeds the psyche with beauty. 

 

If all artists could use this higher perspective to serve, then the world would be a better place.  When art comes from the heart, it inspires good thoughts.  The word "inspire" is derived from Latin and means to infuse with spirit.  There’s a demand for art made from the heart, even though most of us are not aware that we hunger for it, it fulfils a deep yearning and nourishes the soul. 

 

I bought Mary Edna’s print of the edge of the earth looking down at Europe.  It sits next to the altar in my office as a reminder to keep a higher perspective on my work and life.   Thank you Mary Edna for reminding me to keep an eagle's eye view of life while sometimes dipping down to earth to make contact.

Copyright:  Debra Moffitt, 2008.  www.debramoffitt.com

In Antibes, France instead of Thanksgiving, I celebrated Gratitude Day with friends.  It spoke more to the French, English and Scandinavians around my table. 

 

“This is my favorite US holiday,” I said.  “It’s not commercial like Christmas.  It doesn’t require anything except finding things to be grateful for.”

 

We went around the table and named the things and people we appreciated.  “I’m grateful for the Scottish salmon that gave its life for our delicious meal,” I said, inspired by the Inuit who thanked the animals that gave their lives to keep them fed and warm.  “And the good company.  And the sea.”  My apartment with wide floor to ceiling windows framed the port and ramparts with the deep blue Mediterranean Sea beyond them.  Nice and the mountains curled out in the distance.  I felt grateful to be in tune with such beauty everyday – and still miss it.

 

The idea of gratitude day caught on and an English friend held her own version of it in May.  Guided by thoughts of thankfulness and appreciation, guests focused on good things in life.

 

Back in the US, I’m reminded the uniqueness of this.  Pilgrims, people on a spiritual search, arrived in a new world.  Their survival depended on cooperation and community.  If only we can make every new day one filled with gratitude and appreciation for the people and things around us, then our lives will be rich and filled with contentment.  Keep a gratitude list as a personal reminder of the miracles and milestones along the way.  It's encouraging to look at in moments of crisis and despair.  Happy Gratitude Day!

 

Copyright:  Debra Moffitt, 2008.  www.debramoffitt.com

I'm winding down to the end of my book and thought it might be good to check in with a fellow writer for some advice.  The woman I called has several books to her credit and is also considered an "intuitive."  Her work on dreams and intuition appears on the bookshelves at Barnes and Noble or Borders book stores.  She hadn't read any of my book.

 

"What do you think of my title and the images?" I asked. 

 

"Not quite a right hit," she replied.   "Use the theme of the fiction book you've planned for this book instead.  It'll be better for the publishing world." 

 

"Oh," I said reflecting.  "You may be right."  She went on about her feelings about my work - how the book was essentially good, but needed a different take or gimmick to get through the slush pile of manuscripts in agents' and publishers' offices.

 

"I work with my dreams and inner images for guidance," I said.  But at first I took her reflections to heart.  Maybe she was right.  Maybe I needed to change it and go back to the drawing board.  

 

The next morning I dreamed of her.  We rode a train together.  She looked gaunt, haggard and not filled with good energy.  She placed her finger by her nose and showed me that it was coming off.  I got up and returned to my previous place without taking her advice.  And this is exactly what I did when I got out of bed.  I realized her intuition or nose was not "on" quite right and discarded her ideas and went back to following my inner guidance about the right direction to take. 

 

This morning another dream greeted me.  I'd been examining the structure of some best selling non-fiction books with hopes of getting some inspiration.  In my dream, I stood in a fancy room before an upholstered bench.  On it lay a small dead body that seemed like David Bowie, an out of fashion entertainer.  Others around also had bodies and we were supposed to dress them up in new clothes.  I looked at this stiff structure before me shrugged my shoulders and left.  I refused to work with something that no longer had any life in it. 

 

In the next scene, I am walking in a stone mountain stream and the pristine, clear waters bubble down.  I climb up to a new height and when I look down I'm wearing my loafers.  I feel a tremendous sense of peace, contentment and joy as the waters flow and gush over the rocks. 

 

In this dream, the lifeless body meant the old structure of best sellers wouldn't work for me - and is a dying form.  The place I returned to in nature was one of beauty, truth and goodness.  It emanated a deep sense of peace and bliss.  I knew it was about work because I wear the loafers only in my office when I work - not outdoors. 

 

So my inner wisdom reminds me to always rely on and place more value on my inner guidance than on what another author or individual might say.  When those connections to the inner sacred place are honed and polished so they become light, they are the best rays to use to find the way.

 

copyright - Debra Moffitt, www.debramoffitt.com

 

Last weekend I spent time with a bestselling author who’s working to meet the deadline for her next book.  She puts out about one book a year!  In tossing about ideas for my own novel-in-progress, I came away full of exciting possibilities.  The author, M., spends time deep in research of everything from turtles to fly fishing and transforms Low Country towns and diners into settings for her book.  She loves her work with a passion and finds herself so totally immersed in the characters that their stories come to life on the page.  They live through her and she feels their hurts and loves totally, without restraint.

 

“I had a bar scene and my character walked up to the bar and ordered a margarita.  She really wanted that drink,” she said.  “You become the character.”

 

I stared into my spaghetti with fresh pesto and hesitated.  “I have a tight control on my emotions.  I don’t think I’ll enjoy living the pains and passions of my character,” I said.

 

“Yes, yes,” she insisted.  “It’s freeing.  It will release you!”

 

Her thrill about writing and crafting and living each day with her characters – day and night – inspires me to go for total immersion too.  She even draws on her dreams for discovering the next scenes. 

 

So as I write and work my way through chapter after chapter of this new story, I begin to sense what she means.  I can let my characters free and live vicariously. 

 

If I don’t feel their hearts and let them come through on the page, then no one will pick up the passion and excitement and want to read the book.   Living in the shoes of another human being is part of the fun of being a writer!         

copyright: Debra Moffitt 2008     www.debramoffitt.com

 

On a hike into the greenway that runs through a section of Charlotte’s urban area, I stopped near a pool of water where a snowy egret, a great blue heron and three green herons camouflaged the color of swamp mud plucked at the water teeming with life.  The murky glistening water vibrated, jiggled and trembled from below.  In the days of dry weather this water  point diminished and all of the life it contained – frogs, tadpoles, turtles, fish – concentrated in an ever narrowing circle with less and less space.  It resulted in easy dinner pickings for the birds despite the competition.  The toothpick legged egret, about four feet high, studied the shivering water and leaned in to nab a morsel, but a yellow head lifted up to greet it.  “Is it a turtle?” I asked my trail mate.  Its head stiffened and the egret struck at it then the other creature raised itself a foot out of the water like a king cobra and struck back, yellow mouth wide and fangs bare. 

 

“A cotton mouth,” he said.

 

“A cotton what?”  It didn’t look like any piece of fabric I’d ever seen, but it certainly had a huge pale tinted mouth with needle-sharp fangs.  The egret decided to leave it alone and elegantly waded a step away.  The other creature slithered onto the mud in full view – a water moccasin thick as a weight lifter’s arm and over five feet long slid out of the pool and into a pile of damp logs and brush.   So large and thick of a snake, I thought it might have been a tropical serpent let loose by a reptile lover tired of keeping it at home as a pet.  But photos on a university website verified that it existed right here in the Carolinas.

 

This wild heart of nature thrives a short distance from downtown and I love it as a symbol and reminder that despite concrete, roads, square buildings and the ever encroaching presence of people, nature continues to thrive and inspire with its wild creativity.  In this same area I’ve sited lots of deer, raccoon, beavers playing and gnawing on limbs, king fishers, a water turtle the size of a quarter, tiny and large frogs, owls, hawks, rabbits and snakes.  I need nature to keep me in tune with the natural rhythms of days and seasons and with the natural rhythms of my heart.  Without it I can hardly write. 

 

Where do you find inspiration?     

copyright: Debra Moffitt 2008    www.debramoffitt.com