Tears are a wonderful release of an overburdened soul...

My beloved Arija, draped in natural fabric art created by her daughter, the fabulous India Flint. Arija's blog says she is 1996 years old, so I tried to capture her in what I think she might have looked at 500. Levity aside, she is ancient in wisdom, yet youthful and not aging in her vision. Her beautiful eyes, not mere receptors of things that surround her but a teaching method for those of us who forget to stop, look and listen.


I asked Arija what color are her eyes and she replied "When I am happy and well they are green, sometimes they look black and when I am truly unwell they are a grey-green flecked with pale brown." I would love to gaze into those eyes of hers and say "Hello there, you are my beloved friend who dwells in my heart and I thank you so much for everything you have done for me and what you mean to me."


The almost monochromatic illustration above was actually done with sixteen different colored pencil hues, India ink, graphite pencil and pigment ink. Doesn't that confirm that the most meaningful and worthy entity may appear unassuming but may actually be comprised of multiple layers as opposed to something flashy, flamboyant and comprised of merely few layers and when stripped leaves you with nothing.

That I draped her with India's artistic natural fabric creation, is because Arija has been through so many droughts, fire that ravaged everything her family owned after being displaced by war and rebuilding, of illnesses and most recently a brush with death... Life is not fair, isn't it? Yet Arija is full of celebration for its goodness and not once did I ever hear her hum the victim's melody.

Ah she cries most certainly and says...

"Tears are a wonderful release of an overburdened soul, be it from pain, from sorrow or joy or the exquisite tightness around the heart for that which moves us deeply: light, beauty, character in an old experienced face, a simple blade of grass in the wind... the world is so full of beauty, my eyes keep filling with sheer joy when I look around."


One day I wrote something in my blog that was truly personal. I tried to be obscure as I can be but that did not escape two special people's discerning minds. I am sure others intuit my messages but that time, only two felt it in their hearts. Don't let anybody tell me that my blog friends are all in my mind. It is not true. They are in my heart and I shall carry them with me.

Of this series, I have a few more illustrations. I am excited to share with you an illustration of my wonderful younger sister and ooooh! I am drawing Vanessa. Of course I tried to draw my mother and I failed miserably. I ran out of 9"x12" Bristol boards and need to order more.


I wish everyone a wonderful holiday weekend. I am not ignoring your comments. Thank you very much. I will stop by when you are not looking. Please remember the soldiers who sacrificed their lives and those who are still in harm's way so that we may be free.

Shed A Tear, But That's It

India Ink, pigment ink, colored pencils, graphite pencil on 9"x12" Bristol board. Inspired by my most beloved friend.

She said:
That's right.
Stand firm.
Do not falter.
Shed a tear, but that's it.


I have drawn two other portraits with this series and as I drew them I kept thinking NOT about the tears or tear but about how I am inspired, strengthened and encouraged by these women. As I kept drawing, I cannot, in my heart continue to make this series dwell on sadness. When I started thinking of Bella, Arijah, Deborah, Manon, Vanessa and Silke, I started looking at this series in a different light. I have read these beautiful women's blogs and every time I read something a little heart tugging or breaking, my heart rejoices in witnessing their courage and their resolve. Feeling sorry for oneself does indeed take time and sometimes it is more romantic to wallow in sadness and talk or write about it, but it is not really my style. I never subscribed to the Victim mentality. I have this genetic tendency to view any event that threatens my peaceful state with resolve, to conquer and demolish it, I did not cry. I used to view crying as a sign of weakness or acceptance of defeat. No more. Giving tears their due time, allow me to acknowledge the pain and the hurt…then I move forward, having pondered the state from which I have to extract myself and those in my care.

Tell me, how do you view tears and crying?

Ah, as for me, tears are good and weeping is okay, but that's it.

Go on and move ahead.

No. 7 - Las Hijas de Señora Phenomena Naturale - Bagyo-Bagyo

Bagyo-Bagyo. Permanent pigment ink on 12"x9" Bristol board. Double click to view details.
On the eve of Hurricane Ike, as I photographed the skies, I noticed a swarm of dragonflies flying in circles.
I included them on the drawing above along with other observations.

Clockwise from top left: Ulan and Monsoon, Tsunami, Lindol, Ba'ha', Buhawi, Bulkana

Bagyo-Bagyo brews typhoons in the Pacific Ocean and hurricanes in the Atlantic Ocean. She is responsible for washing away shore towns, blowing away rooftops, smashing glass windows, and sending oil tankers ashore in the middle of Mactan Island, once. She was responsible for erasing villages and subdivisions in the Gulf Coast map and submerging towns in the Philippines. She is high and mighty and when she comes she brings along her sister Buhawi and Ba'ha, but most often does their jobs herself. Her torrential rains plus the visitation of her sister Lindol and human mistakes of illegal logging and mining was responsible for the appearance of her sister Lutak' that buried Guinsaugon village in the town of Saint Bernard in Southern Leyte, burrying alive 1,126 people including an elementary school in session with 246 students and 7 teachers. Only one child and one adult survived.


Before her arrival, the skies cry out with gray ominous clouds and fiery splendor.

The skies before Hurricane Ike landfall, dedicated to my sisterfriend Arija:

Click on photos to enlarge

My Dearest Darling Sisterfriend Arija Is in The Hospital

I designed the Arija Award in honor of this great and wonderful woman, Arija. It is one of the Four Oaks of The Blog World awards.



My dearest darling sisterfriend Arija,
my Pink Rose;
my beloved sisterfriend;
the giving one;
the one with beautiful seeing eyes;
the one with the healing hands
and green thumbs;
the one with comforting words;
the one with a soothing soul,
is in the hospital.
Please pray that she may get well soon
and join us again.

Arija's photograph of one of the hundreds of flowers she grows.