Sioux Star Blanket and The Journey

by Holly Kallie on 2/9/2009 8:30:57 AM2 Comments

I felt compelled to write about a piece of artwork that is rather different from my usual choice of subject matter. The story of this painting begins and ends with a poem.

There is no need to share the intimate details of how my story came about other than to say, I married quite young at the age of 20, proceeded to have 4 children within 10 years and led a fairly charmed, and I told myself, happy life with the usual stresses that most families have. For many reasons my life started to unravel around the age of 40. I had been on a private and personal quest for spiritual answers, reading anything I could get my hands on. My children were growing up and leaving home, and my husband was slowly becoming a stranger to me. During this time my beloved father passed away at the age of 65, my brother, 6 years my senior, took his life, and my mother, an extremely demanding woman, became my sole responsibility. Due to a series of events that led to what I now realize was the start of my "Phoenix Process," my husband of 31 years, filed for divorce, and I did not feel the desire to disagree with his choice. I personally had no idea who lived inside of me at that time and was terrified, but compelled to find out. I came upon a poem written by Mary Oliver called "The Journey" that closely describes how I felt at that crossroads of my life.

The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice -
though the whole house began to tremble and you felt the old tug
at your ankles,
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do -
determined to save
the only life you could save.

Mary Oliver~

For several years my restless spirit had failed to find solace in the religion which I was raised, and I began to find comfort and acceptance in a group of friends that followed a Native American spirituality. We had regular gatherings, many of which were full moon ceremonies. These were lovely times, sitting around campfires and sharing our love of "the Great Spirit", nature and each other. I was honored to be invited to a Sundance Ceremony which was a powerful experience beyond description.

Because of my connection to these wonderful friends, I took a trip to New Hampshire to attend a week long camp-out in the mountains. It included learning to make drums, sharing ceremonies, taking part in a sweatlodge and enjoying the breathtaking beauty of the White Mountains. While I was there, a ten acre parcel of land on the side of a forested mountain, was shown to me. I fell in love with it and bought it on the spot. Never being an impulsive person, I had no idea what had gotten into me, or what I was in for. Within 8 weeks, I had returned home to Wisconsin, sold my beloved home on Golden Lake, packed up all of my belongings, my two dogs, and left family and friends behind. It was the fall of 2000. Before I left, I received a beautiful red Sioux Star Blanket as a gift from one of my dear friends for my journey. When I reached New Hampshire, another friend allowed me to temporarily move into an old one room stilt house that she owned in the mountains, close to my land. It had no plumbing, no running water, no insulation and a small antique wood stove to keep me warm.

I immediately hired the services of a local cabin builder to start constructing a log house for me to live in. That winter was an amazing adventure trying to keep warm, keep clean and learn how to live with very little. Besides finding firewood for heat, I had to drive up the mountain every few days to hand pump around 30 gallons of water into jugs and haul it back down the mountain in my truck to the stilt house.

It then had to be hauled up the stairs and into my cramped space to keep it from freezing. This was my only water for drinking, cooking and bathing. Bathing was achieved by heating 1 1/2 gallons of water on a campstove, pouring it into a camping shower bag which was then hung over a rubbermaid watering trough I had purchased at the local feed store. The trough was kept under the bed until needed and then hauled out in front of the little woodburning stove for quick baths. It was hard work and an existence that was totally foreign to me, but seemed like a grand adventure at the time. The silence of that place was at first disconcerting, but slowly began to calm the many voices in my head, so that I could finally hear my own tiny voice starting to become more than a whisper. I began one painting that winter in the little house on stilts. I wasn't sure what I was trying to say and only painted part of it...putting it aside half-completed. By March my cabin was finished enough to move into, and I did so during a huge blizzard that left 3 feet of snow outside my door.

Spring came and with it followed months of back breaking work to clean up the construction mess, cut and split massive amounts of firewood for two woodburning stoves...my main heat source, move tons of rocks from the yard and build gardens, stairs and walkways around the cabin. Luckily my four grown children, 3 sons and a daughter, were happy to visit and help out with some of the work.

Together we explored the forests and rivers in the surrounding area and had some amazing times, climbing nearby mountains, fishing the crystal clear streams and learning how differently the people lived in that remote and breathtakingly beautiful area.

By the time fall arrived, I realized it was time to focus on my artwork, the one sustaining passion that had remained constant all of my life. I spent hours each day pouring out my ideas on canvas and slowly saw that the opportunity to focus without distraction, was causing an improvement in my abilities. I can vividly remember the indescribable sense of joy I felt, as I sat near the woodburning stove and painted, while huge flakes of snow fell in the forest outside my cozy little cabin. I was experiencing a feeling of being completely at home inside myself, and it was a revelation. During my time spent there, I remained fond of my experiences with my Native American friends, but moved on to study many different types of spirituality and incorporated many of their live-giving philosophies into what worked for me.

I woke up one morning, 2 years later, knowing that it was time for me to move back to Wisconsin. I missed my children deeply and wanted to once again be a bigger part of their lives.  In a short time my little cabin was sold, and again I packed up my belongings and my dogs and prepared to make the trek back to the midwest. Only this time it was with a deep peace and a stronger sense of myself....a self that knew I could be and do anything that I chose. I took all of my new paintings, along with the still unfinished piece I had started in the little stilt house, 2 years previous.

Getting used to the hustle and bustle of life back in the real world was at first a bit disconcerting. It's one thing to be peaceful in a quiet place, but quite another feat to maintain it when the demands of the real world are back in your face. But part of me carries that otherworldly place and what I learned there, inside of me always. Sometimes I wish that I could go back, but it is just a wistful and temporary thought.  Especially when I look at my beautiful and unique grown children and now 3 little grandchildren. Spending time with them is a great gift....as is all of life.  Life can go full cirlce in many ways, and my journey suprisingly, after 10 years has led me back to a tiny cottage on Golden Lake once agoin, where I spend my time appreciating the beauty of nature that surrounds me and creating my artwork. I needed to burn my old ideas and be born again just like the phoenix to appreciate fully the gift of this life.

A couple of years ago, I finally felt ready to finish the painting started in the stilt house in the winter of 2000. I did so, but was still feeling uncertain about it's meaning. I knew that in some way the Native American woman in the painting was me, but was still unable to put a voice to what her purpose was. Then a young woman walked into the gallery that I had become part of several years ago. She purchased a tile that bore the image of this painting on it, and mentioned to the person who sold it to her, that she had just moved from New Hampshire.

Of course, I heard about it and was interested in meeting her.  I learned that she wrote ekphrastic poetry which is poetry written to go with an image, such as a painting, photo or piece of sculptor.  Since then we have collaborated, much to my delight, on several projects. Cristina has written amazing poems for some of my favorite paintings and added a dimension to them that is very moving to me.  I feel so honored to have had this experience, but also that my friend, Cristina, finally gave a voice to that painting started so long ago in my tiny stilt house in the snow. I feel that I have come full circle and that now, there are words to describe "my journey."
Thank you, Cristina, for giving me those words!  Our paths were meant to cross. Here is Cristina's poem.

Sioux Star Blanket

(Inspired by the artwork of Holly Kallie)

Strike the match �

independence breathes.

Energy set alight �

leading the way with a lightning path.

Branches reach and stretch

like a dancer�s limbs.

Snow peaks melt

into the flurry of the river�s current,

just to touch the living heat

of the Sioux star blanket.

A firelight glows

from day until eventide,

singing the electric beat

of woman�s power.

Rushing waters flow past courage �

the solitary candle �

the spark of the search.

Brave Heart speaks:

Seeker, be still �

stay red.

Your time is coming �

your time is now.

Cristina M. R. Norcross

Sioux Star Blanket and The Journey

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