happy new moon in taurus

First of all, I’m a delight.
Second, is long form content dying?

Turkey vultures hanging out in a yard.

“We become what we are willing to see.”
― Richard Rohr

Hey y’all! The Moon is new, in the sign of Taurus, so plan your day accordingly. While I know a fair amount about astrology, I find the modern prognosticators often repeat each other in order to go viral online. But here’s the deal…a lot of the modern spiritual paths are rooted in the erasure of marginalized persons. Why go to your local Strega or Granny Woman when you can pay a lot of money to shady pseudo-spiritualists that say, “Hey, upload your financials to AI and have it tell you how to make even more money.”

So this past week has been an odd one, and I’m still sitting with the events that brought me back to the land of navel gazing. There were these tiny drops of aha! moments that created a tsunami of thoughts. Each one flowing over my brain like milk in a bowl of cereal. Trying to explain it to anyone has been impossible, and all I could say to my husband was that my creative brain decided to reboot itself back to 2013 settings.

The hard part of healing after life borrowed your creative energy for survival is when your soul says, “Hey, you tell folks all the time they are made in the image of an energy that creates, therefore you are also a creative being,” but the rest of you is like, “No. Nope. Not Today.” Writing is second nature to me, and is honestly so much a part of my life that my tagline should be, “I have a story for that,” instead of “Everything I’m about to tell you is true.” So while I was trying to write things this week, and nothing would come out, it was clear that changes were coming my way.

Oh, yes…yes those are vultures, and they are my friends. If you call them little babies, they will swoop down to visit. And before y’all come over here with your scary stories, or how you Pappy said they mean this or that, just know that I’ve studied this land for nearly 25 years. They are not a portent of doom and/or gloom, nor will they eat your face. In fact, if they weren’t here, we would be up to our pits in carrion. We fear them because they represent the part of life that is the end, and what truly comes after our body stops working. Honestly, I can’t imagine being a first human and seeing this big old bird having a meal from a long gone animal. It would seriously weird me out, but also…if I was hungry…that bird might be the best teacher. Again, before you wanna say gross, or that’s not right, sit in nature for a bit to see how the process of model/rival works. We are, after all, human animals, and we got to where we are now by observing the natural world around us.

During this whole week of transformation, while out and about, I had a whole creative idea flash through my mind quicker than the AI can tell you how wonderful you are (because it is coded to do so, but that’s a story for another day). That kind of process was dulled by those years of smiling for the camera, so to speak, and walking as close to the standards of cultural normality — at least here in the States — that I had the ability to do. While it was performative, I was not performing. Not to sound dramatic, but the fate of my family depended on me showing up like someone I am not. This wasn’t inauthenticity, as no matter what life brings us we are being authentic in our experiences. That’s not a what is the sound of one hand clapping koan, or teaching story, but a tangible reality that none of us can escape. No matter what we are doing, or how we are doing it, in that moment we are engaging a part of our true self. Which, for me, there’s an aspect of my personality that is just some woman from Kentucky doing her best in chaotic moments.

Anyway, this creative idea that I had started with painting, then crochet, and after that photography. Literally in the span of like maybe 3 seconds, my brain laid out this beautiful storyboard of ideas. It just felt really good to be back in that zone again, but it did sort of run me off the rails. But you know, life is one long river, and time doesn’t go anywhere. Maybe some past, or future, me stepped into my current timeline to show me a way out of the mire I didn’t know I was still in.

It was no surprise when my spiritual side lit up as well. I also had to put that part of me to the side during the time of caring for my family where all my energy was needed to keep us going. In my life I’ve seen how everything is connected so many times that any other examples are just overkill. It’s about metaphysics and science meeting up and having the best tea party ever. Also, the Universe is always talking to us, and it’s quite egotistical to think that it isn’t…or that we somehow know more than creation itself.

With all this going on it was hard to sit in front of my screen pondering what to write to all y’all. My fingers wanted to talk about the beauty of being human, and my mind was all aflutter with stories of grace. However, when I opening the site, got that new post ready, everything went blank. I’d get a drink of water, do the dishes, and use all the techniques writers use when feeling a block, but none of them worked. After pondering it a bit, I remember that sometimes we carry stories that are only for ourselves. Telling them to others would sort of swoosh the magic of it away, or introduce doubt into the process due to the opinions of others. So I sat with it, parsed out the aspects that were okay to share — waiting for the right time to come back to my characteristic rambling.

Which was today, with a new Moon “in the neck,” aka Taurus, to share a part of my life with the world. I’m still trying to figure out what to do with this space, but thankfully the Universe helped me out a bit. For now I’m just gonna keep showing up; keep telling tales.

Until next time…much love,
~ KEU

a mummy with the Iliad

First of all, I’m a delight.
Second, it seems I’m addicted to learning.

“Self-education is, I firmly believe, the only kind of education there is.”
― Isaac Asimov

Today I stumbled upon an article about piece of the Iliad being found with a mummy. It’s pretty interesting, and you can read it by clicking the hyperlinked text above.

For this week’s podcast I was going to discuss coming back to the art world, but the Universe had a different plan. Don’t worry, I’ll get there, but until then feel free to gives this a look.

Until next time…much love to all y’all,
~ KEU

a magical reality

First of all, I’m a delight.
Second, the image below is not mine, but it for sure sets the scene of my post.

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.”
— W.B. Yeats

So I’m on my 4th re-watch of The Ghost Whisperer, because why not?

Photo of a big puffy cloud.

Today’s post is this cloud. It wants me to tell you that it misses you.

Sometimes writing doesn’t arrive at the time you need it, like this week for example. I’ve been busy with some other things, while also getting ready for this week’s episode of The KimboBurly Tales.

You know, it’s a perfect day for an early afternoon cup of coffee and maybe some window shopping at the Dollar Tree.

With that, I’m off to take care of the day.

Until next time…much love,
~ KEU

Uncertainty is my friend

First of all, I’m a delight.
Second, life is one lone mysterious river of wonder.

If you take this image pixies will find you.

“I do not wish to talk about myself because I hold very deeply the belief that what is important is the work, not the person.”
― Remedios Varo

This whole week has been full of shenanigans and wonkiness. Everything from power outages to deep thoughts that ran amuck. I talk about it in this week’s podcast over at Mom’s Strange Magic, but wanted to say a few words here, too.

A wee bit ago I was able to see a Remedios Varo exhibit in Chicago. While the whole trip was life changing, reminding me that everything isn’t about us (meaning not everything in the world revolves around you, or me, or all humans), I was also able to see the things I love in their full form. That’s a whole tale and a half, but not for this post. Nor is the magical tale of seeing the original works from one of my favorite artists (side note, I was able to see another exhibit from another fave artist, Georgia O’Keefe during my next trip to Chicago), as that would be several paragraphs of ramble that would read like a fan-girl ramble.

So this week, it’s been an interesting one, so I have had to dwell in the land of uncertainty. That place used to really make me feel like my skin was crawling, but now it’s like the Universe is nudging me to stop, breathe, and get recentered. Honestly, between you and me, that is what was needed. You know, just some good old-fashioned WTF is going on right now energy. Some people need quiet to create, others hide themselves away from the world, and some wait for inspiration. Me? Well as soon as that wild hair starts blowing in the wind, the ideas start flowing. In my younger years I made notes, stuck them in a journal, then came back to them when the time was right. Now it’s a race to find a piece of paper to put in a journal before the idea floats away. It’s not an aging brain, nor a health issue, or even my creaky joints, but the fact that I’m out of practice. During the time I was caring for my family, there was no time to engage creativity. It was literally one foot in front of the other, every day, for nearly 11 years. And you wanna talk about uncertainty…that was like boot camp for being able to handle any kind of stress. 10 of 10 I **don’t** recommend.

Speaking of ideas, one or two just popped into my noggin, which means there are only a few short minutes to get them on paper. This means that I’m going to do an abrupt sign off — but that’s okay, what isn’t written here is in the podcast. Y’all keep shining brightly as the Sun.

Until next time…much love,
~ KEU

embracing the chaotic journey – part 1

First of all, I’m a delight.
Second, when you’re creative world relies on energy, you must get creative during a power outage.

“There is no such thing as a weird human being, It’s just that some people require more understanding than others.”
― Tom Robbins

As mentioned above, the power went out today. This means that my time in my wee little office was cut short, and I (*gasp*) had to rely on the old fashioned tools our ancestors once used. No, not stone tablets, but close enough — just a book filled with paper and a writing instrument.

During this time of living like the early settlers of the state where I live, or any early settlers, it seemed the perfect time to run a few errands. This trip somehow made me arrive at a craft/art store, which is shocking. Not only that, I also stopped by my local (free) public library to pick up a book on creative techniques. Really kicking in old school today, y’all.

The thing about my life is this…it’s always interesting. You might think I get a break from the tomfoolery when sleeping, but you would be wrong. Not only are my dreams in full technicolor, with smells and such, they are a beautiful marriage between the art of Dali, Picasso, Van Gogh, Georgia O’Keefe, Remedios Varo, and Hilma af Klint. Or like all the Sid and Marty Krofft shows for kids in the 1970s. Today was just that kind of day, where I was so in the zone, had things flowing from my fingertips, and then there was a very loud boom that turned the lights off.

In yesterday’s post I dared — DARED — to speak of the future. Sometimes when my words/voice say, “Hey, guess what’s coming up,” it’s like the Universe says, “Are you sure? Are you sure about that?” This might also be how the Muses and the Fates work together to move me in another direction. Honestly, that was a great idea because at the moment the power went out I was ruminating on the large amounts of AI written articles here and on other platforms. Like I get it, truly I do, but also…stop getting AI to write for other AI to read. Give the machines a break. Plus, the more you saturate the freeways of digital information with its own information, that clogs it up for the rest of us. Also, I think we are all tired of content creation influencer jargon dressed up to be non-performative creativity. See there, I was about to get a ramble going, but thought better of it.

Honestly, I kind of needed a day away from my desk, and to wander the world a bit. Apparently that wild and wonderful unknowable force called The Universe knew exactly what was needed.

Until next time…much love,
~ KEU

the art of arting

First of all, I’m a delight.
Second, we are all artists.

photo of a colorful campfire

“This world is but a canvas to our imagination.”
– Henry David Thoreau

If we, made in the image of a creator (science or spiritual), then we are also creators. When I taught art classes, that was always my opening statement, along with the ins/outs of the art world. My goal with every student was to help them understand that creating for the joy of it is part of who we are.

For a long time I made art to support my family – everything from abstract art to mosaics to Zentangle. There were words, images, stories, all formed by the overwhelming urge to remind others how magical humans can be. It was absolutely where I wanted to be in my life, and was doing pretty okay in the professional creative world.

The thing about being an artist is that you have to produce items, or at least talk about the processes of what you are making/writing. That was going pretty okay for me, with some art shows under my belt, classes, and even a few articles in the local newspapers. Then something happened that shifted everything that gave me an almost 11 year hiatus of everything in my life. While the Universe might have known what was up, it took me just a little more time to see the wisdom in those changes.

What got me through those moments was the support from my wee little family — my husband and our kids — who have always believed in me. Better stated, we all stood together, making sure that everything would be okay. It is hard to explain the levels of gratitude I have for the ability to persevere through some of the wildest moments of my adult life, and to also have the resources to keep all of us afloat. Sometimes when I look ahead to my goals for bringing my pieces back into the world, my being fills with feelings of grace.

This week’s episode of The KimboBurly Tales will be about some of this, and how to find your way back home to yourself. Most likely I’ll write about up until that day, so be prepared to read a ramble or seven.

It’s a beautiful Monday, and I think the best way to enjoy it is to get out some yarn, sit on the porch, and have gratitude for the little things.

Until next time…much love,
~ KEU

The erasing of lived cultures

First of all, I’m a delight.
Second, please stop saying the Gods chose who they chose.

Sun shining through plants.
If you take this photo as your own, pixies will come and tie knots in your hair.

“Imitation is the highest form of flattery’ all too often means ‘Appropriation is the easiest form of thievery’.”
― Jamie Arpin-Ricci

As I step back into my work with Mom’s Strange Magic, the algorithms have decided to show me all kinds of things like tarot readers flinging cards at their camera and telling me that the powers that be wanted me to know something. Then comes the vague information such as, “They are thinking of you,” or the “The signs say go for it.” I mean two things can be true at once, the algorithms knowing your patterns and the Universe seeing a way to get a message to you, but lemme tell you a little bit about how that kinda stuff is dripping with appropriation.

This is not the time, nor is it the place, to give an extended look into the world of cultural appropriation. Also, none of us are immune from engaging in this activity. I mean how do you think we have most of what we have now – it wasn’t from honoring the societies and communities that created their rituals and ways of being.
One little trip back into history, at any time, will show you how those with more resources and greater military power conquer societies and communities…only to adapt the rituals and folkways to their own needs. It’s sort of how I see the Romans when the early Christians couldn’t be taken down by the powers that be — sort of like if you can’t beat them, join them kind of thing. Figuring that there needed to be one central place for these folks (and their money) to hang out, wouldn’t it just be a good idea to, oh…I don’t know…create the Holy Roman Catholic Church? Once fully established, and you know, never mind all the other monotheistic belief systems stemming from Abraham, because this one is the only one. But let me not ramble a blue streak about that, because I can and often do with my dear sweet husband. He’s such a patient partner, and always willing to hear about my new esoteric and arcane fact about the history of faith systems.

So, as a very pale skinned person who has parents that are from this area and engaged in the modern rituals, practices, and culture of their parents, this makes me 100% a caucasian woman from the United States. While I can appreciate Neo-Paganism and the good intentions of that belief system, often times followers of that path overlook the darker parts of how their modern ways came to be.

Just a random side note here, your dear old 2nd grandaunt who grew up in the mountains and healed people would wash your mouth out with dirt if you ever called her a witch. That woman believe in the power of the Bible, and saw Jesus as her savior. Now I’m not saying there weren’t what modern folks are calling witches, but most likely they weren’t dressed like Stevie Nicks.

Which, by the way, is sort of appropriation of cultures that were called derogatory names. I mean, we all love Stevie for sure, but also, she is also a caucasian woman from the United States. Calling oneself a “gypsy” reduces a complex culture into a lifestyle or trend.

Maybe this is where I need to say an important thing…

Being marginalized from different directions taught me a lot about how not to marginalize others. That was amplified in 2020 when the demographics of where I live got ridiculed online with phrases like, “Y’all Qaeda.” Now I understand the psychology of why this happens, but that doesn’t mean it should be accepted. One cannot say they love all, then spew hatred at those who aren’t like them.

Before I type out a dissertation on the co-opting of poverty culture for likes on social media, let me just share this week’s episode of The KimboBurly Tales with all y’all.

Y’all, I’m relearning the rules and regulations of hanging out on this platform. Apparently if you post something daily it helps push you out into the greater reader-verse (which I’m still really trying to figure out…it’s a little easier to do that over at Medium, but I’m sticking to this platform here, so…you know…just doing my best out here). You’ll see some of my lovely creativity posted this weekend, but not a lot of words. Those are my days off, well mostly off as I’m always working, but technically…that’s when I turn off my devices for a bit and stare into space.

Thanks for listening/reading. While this might seem a little like preaching, it’s more like I’m trying to do a bit more of the teaching thing. Not because I know it all, but more like there’s too much info in my brain that can be shared with others. You know, to make more room for new information!

Until next time…sending you lots of good energy and love,
~ KEU

Lived Experience Is a Credential

First of all, I’m a delight.
Second, lived education is valid education.

Paper about Kim Upton teaching a watercolor class at the Hillview Library.

“Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.”
– Thomas Merton

Bee enjoying some delightful goodies from a flower.

Long ago in the Way Back Times, humans passed down information about the world around them in a manner vastly different than the systems we have today. If you wanted to learn about building a home, you went off to work with someone who understood carpentry — specifically the art of putting pieces of wood together in order to create a shelter. While the arrangement of being an apprentice might seem a little odd to us now, it was usually a benefit to both parties. This was a situation of social education, hands on experience that helped a craft continue into the future.

This type of relationship happened in other fields as well, and it seemed to suit the culture for some time. That is, until someone realized they could create a certification program where money would be paid to this credentialing entity in exchange for a piece of paper stating the person had been duly educated.

But here’s where it gets interesting, and if you’ve studied the history of the education system, you will see how it’s been geared to those who have the means to pay. This is seen now with the rising costs of higher education, pushing out those who are not able to pay for a piece of paper that no longer guarantees access to the vocation of choice. However, if you don’t have the money, there is an option to engage in predatory lending that is very similar poor folks working for the company, while being forced to buy their necessities from the company store. Don’t have enough money for a bag of flour, well then you can just put it on store credit (with a rate of interest that could never be paid).

Now you might think that I’m about to engage in some kind of internet screed that borders on aluminum chapeau territory, which is totally fair given what I wrote above. Honestly, there are already a lot of folks out there telling this tale, and that’s not the direction this post is going to take. These days I’m just not up for that kind of drama, the gnashing, wailing, and finger pointing online isn’t helpful when folks need tangible help out in the real world. That’s just how I work these days. With that out of the way, lemme continue.

While away from my professional work, the ability to pay for credentials has drastically changed. Apparently you can just buy them online now, which is kind of concerning. Instead of working with say, an herbalist with a few decades of lived experience (and credentialing that took years to achieve), you can now work with someone who had enough money to become a master herbalist in just a short 72 hours. Even after 17 years of professional experience, I don’t feel anywhere near being a “master,” as there is still so much to learn. While my years make me a Crone, that doesn’t mean someone showed up to wave a wand over my head to dub me the knower of all things.

Talking about this particular curiosity in the human culture often gets me fired up. Why? Well, let me tell you why… It has to do with the fact that many of the things that are now being gentrified and commodified are part of the daily life for indigenous persons, minorities, and the poor. If you want to hear me ramble about that, check out this episode of the Mom’s Strange Magic Podcast. These dismissals of those who have spent their lives learning all they can, being careful to have appreciation instead of appropriation, really chafes my soul. It’s giving 1910 Flexner Report, where leaning into a biomedical standard of care (which is great, but not compassionate) took away the ability of the poor, indigenous, and minorities to gain greater access to knowledge in the healthcare field. Along with that it demonized the Granny Women and community caregivers as engaging in barbaric medicine.

The point that I’m trying to get across here is this — fancy degrees are nice and I understand their appeal, but so is lived experienced. While looking for pediatricians after my oldest two were born, my husband was given some great advice from a pharmacist to look for the older doctors, as they had most likely seen everything and wouldn’t be quick to over prescribe medications that weren’t needed. That piece of advice helped us find one of the best medical caregivers I’ve ever met. He was kind, compassionate, and truly had seen all the issues a child might encounter.

Care and wellness isn’t the only place you will see something like this, as it exists in all the vocational genres. For example, if you create art, that makes you an artist. If you hand weave a basket, then you are an artisan. Taking a photo with your smart phone absolutely means you are a photographer. Sometimes folks get so caught up in protecting their entitled space that they forget that not everything is about them.

There is a saying about Wisdom being hard earned, which I gotta say has been absolutely true for my life experiences. While calling myself wise is not part of my gig, it is fair to say that my experiences have made me more perceptive, allowing a different lens for the shenanigans of others.

So, y’all, go out and be the beautiful beings of bodacious badassery. Everything you have done in your life is an experience, which makes you a subject matter expert on all the moments you’ve had. I see you out there shining brightly as the Sun, and I know you are gonna do great things!

Until next time…much love,
~ KEU