Gregor, The Spirit Guide

GREGOR, The Spirit Guide © February 23, 2009 by Donna L. Faber. Original is 9"x12" and done in pen and ink with metallic highlights. 

The ancient ones lie quietly, as old as the mountains, as strong as the rocks, stability and fortitude their mainstay ... that, and waiting, of course. They wait patiently for the world to turn on its spiritual and historical axis. With weathered wings that long to soar, eyes that see absolutely everything, and ruby red hearts of the purest crystal, they wait and wait until the sleepers awaken. They know that some of the sleeping ones can see them from time to time, tentatively aware as they are in their slumber. For the ancient ones, who need no mirror to realize themselves, and for whom existence is whether seen or not, this is only consequential. Soon the sleepers will awaken and ask them to be guides again, and, oh, the glory will return! But until then, with patience of the ages, they remain content to wait ... and listen to the primordial om, the sound of all being.

Meet Gregor, one of the ancient ones. Master of all the elements, this ancient guide prefers the earth to the skies, and wraps himself in a comforting drape of aromatic flora simply because it pleases him.

Om ... 

This original art is available for purchase. Please contact the artist directly for pricing and information. 

Print Sizes

5" x 7" $20.00 8" x 10" $30.00 11" x 17" (give or take) $50.00

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FICTION inspired by the piece posted on March 4, 2009, by Donna L. Faber (all rights reserved).

 It’s late at night. The house is quiet. The dogs are quiet. The little one who reins over my existence has long since gone to bed, and Leslie is on the couch with Jack’s head in her lap. Her eyes are closed, and so are his, as well.

Peace.

I close my eyes. Gregor and I walk the shore of Gulf Beach. It’s dark outside, and the stars twinkle above us, almost as bright as the red, multi-faceted crystal on his chest, and the shining, colored scales all over his immense body. Looking at him with my inner eye is almost too much to bear, as he seems made entirely of light. The moon is full, as it always is in this timeless place I visit from time to time. My old, white Catalina is parked above the sand, behind the retaining wall, a token of days gone by. I’ve tucked the keys atop the front left wheel as always. Dolly Parton dangles from the keychain where she has since I was old enough to drive. I’ve had a million adventures in that car, and the sight of it makes me smile.

Gregor speaks using words when we converse because I am not yet used to telepathy. In this he indulges me because we share our thoughts, as well, even though we are completely transparent to one another psychically. He is walking beside me and despite his size, his feet make no prints in the sand. My feet are in cowboy boots. That is, until I remove all my astral clothing, and sprout fins to take to the sea.

Under the water, we glide like dolphins. I am a mermaid, and Gregor is a sea serpent. We go through caves that are so tight, I outreach my hands and can feel the sides, and yet he fits as formless as ever. It is quite serendipitous, our being here together; after all, he’s been with me since birth. First, he was the heart of my grandfather. And now, that red crystal is the essence of my grandfather’s heart, watching over me.
I couldn’t see this. I couldn’t see Gregor until I was ready.

It doesn’t matter, really, he tells me in his deep, lumbering voice. All things are as they should be. You are precisely where you should be on your path.

I am quiet.

Gregor and I visit the old temple on Charles Island. I’ve visited countless times during meditation, but not recently. I show him how lovely it is, and I walk the familiar spiral staircase slowly, running my hand along the iron railing, surrendering to it's call for psychic expansion. The temple is a glass front sanctuary, nestled in a hillside, a place I knew as a child. Where once it was only me, now it is we. I feel it all there on the staircase.

How appropriate and timely it is that Gregor joins me as my body begins it’s changes, and low grade hot flashes, of which I’ve had two already, begin. How strange it is that I get these hot flashes around the same time my daughter comes of age, that I muddle through weeks of mental mist before the mist is lifted, and I can think again.

Mist.

Gregor likes the mist.

During the rain, when we drive up the hill after dropping off Elizabeth at school, I hear his wings beating and cracking above the van. I feel the power of his flight, and it’s like standing close to a train's engine as it fires up to pull out of the station. When the van jolts to a stop, it’s his razor sharp claws resting atop the roof. Along Highway 280, he playfully pivots and races through the mountains, where the clouds and the land become one. I watch him with sleepy eyes from the passenger’s side, content that he is happy, my spirit soaring with him. Leslie is between us, and she senses him, senses the change within me, but cannot yet see him.
It won’t be long before she does.

I ask him why he enjoys the mist so much, telepathically this time, and he answers with a chuckle. It gives him form in an otherwise veiled countenance, he says, and he longs to be seen by everyone. He longs for the sleepers to awaken.

Ah, I answer. How appropriate.

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Don't Tell Me To Stop

Don’t Tell Me To Stop © October 4, 2009 by Donna L. Faber, Full Moon in Aries.  This piece is done on Strathmore Bristol Vellum, 100 lb. paper, with Prismacolor markers and Pips.  The original is about 10” x 13”.

Acknowledging the Muse Within

A woman’s heart is an ocean of secrets.  This is something I know from experience.  What you see on the outside, the way she looks or moves, the way she expresses herself, her barriers, restrictions or vices, work, hobby or daily routine never adequately represents the treasures hidden away within.  Too frequently, we restrict ourselves in the expression of our heart’s delight.  What’s more, society doesn’t provide for or accept the many ways our hearts wish to express themselves either.  Our rules are stringent and unforgiving.  Our hands are tied and as a result so is the rest of us.

I rail against this, and hope that the change our world is undergoing, this spiritual shift, will transform this repression.  I hope that through a spiritual awakening, all women will embrace who they are and share their gifts with the world without fear or hesitation.

There is something inside of me that resents this restriction intensely, and I know that if I ever let that part of me out of the bag completely, my life would never be the same. 

I fall in love frequently.  Some times I fall harder than others, but when I do, it’s just as genuine as the very first time it happened to me at 16 years old.  Each love I experience seems perfect for the object of my desire; however, it’s not always permissible to express it.   Instead, I try to the best of my ability to honor the divinity in everyone and hope that is enough.

Is it?

There is a woman inside of me that refuses to be stifled when it comes to love.  She flat out refuses to be repressed.  Love in its truest form must be as sensitive and empathic as it is reciprocal.  But this lady is a love hammer that refuses to act contrary to her truest nature.  Even though I know that love shouldn’t be used as a bludgeon, this archetypic female doesn’t know how to do it any other way. 

This is Francine, and she is one of my greatest muses.  Not to be confused with inspiration, which is something on the outside that gets my attention, a muse is the internal emotion that prompts me to create.  Francine is the part of me that rails against repression, and so consequently, she is the dynamic force behind so much of my art and writing.  She beats the inside of my psyche with her clenched fists, she runs rampant in my dreams, whispers in my ears, and reigns over my day dreams at work, home and on the bus.  In the car with my family, if I drift away unhearing, Leslie asks, “Hello? Are you there?”  It is Francine pulling me away from the here and now as she rattles the bars to the cage I’ve put her in and has me swooning in the arms of my latest obsession.

So, this piece is done to acknowledge my inner love hammer, Francine … that’s why I call it “Don’t Tell Me To Stop”. 

Because she never will.

Print Sizes

5" x 7" $20.00 8" x 10" $30.00 11"x 17" $50.00

This original art is available for purchase. Please contact the artist directly for pricing and information.

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"My heart is ever at your service." ~William Shakespeare

Kali Ma

Kali Ma © September 19, 2009 by Donna L. Faber is part of my series on divinity.  It is done on Strathmore Bristol 300 Series Vellum with Staedler pigment liner pens, Prismacolor premiere markers, and good old fashioned Crayola Pip-Squeaks borrowed from my daughter.  She’s been cut out and a version mounted on colorful background is available below. 

 Purchase Kali Ma without Background

Print Sizes

5" x 7" $20.00 8" x 10" $30.00 11"x 17" $50.00

Kali, also known as Kalika, is a Hindu goddess associated with eternal energy.  Despite Her fierce appearance and the symbolic imagery provoked by the items She holds and surrounds Herself with (each of which has a specific meaning), Kali is considered a benevolent Mother Goddess whose greatest wish is to see her children freed from their delusions (the way we lie to ourselves). 

The manner in which She frees us be may the cause of some debate, as Her methods are often intense and shocking; it is Kali Ma’s blood red-rimmed eyes we see piercing the all-consuming blackness of our darkest hours.  She can be perceived as terrifying or loving, which depends on our understanding of Her role in our lives.  When we experience spiritual or emotional blockage and Durga, Saraswati, Shiva and Lord Krishna turn their backs on us, it is Kali who steps up to the plate.  In Her inimitable way, She blasts the blockage right out of our systems. 

And yes, sometimes it is quite uncomfortable. 

Remember, the Goddess takes many forms so that Her children may find one they can relate to.  The Virgin Mary and the Holy Mother are modern day incarnations of the Divine Mother who has many faces and has been present for thousands of years.

The last few months have been crazy for my family and I.  We’ve dealt with various bits of economic and real estate uncertainty, including merger related weirdness at work that had me spinning more than I thought.  I finally feel like I’m settling down, feeling at home in the new place, and less threatened at work.  Doing this piece was like a meditation to me, helping me get centered to better understand my priorities and where my focus should be.  Working through several treasured people in my life, the Goddess, perhaps in her guise as Kali Ma, helped clear my emotional clutter quite effectively.

È lo scopo del Kali nella nostra vita.

Don’t let Kali Ma scare you.  All women have the Goddess within them.  Some just forgot.

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Print Sizes

5" x 7" $20.00 8" x 10" $30.00 11" x 17" $50.00

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The Queen of Pentacles

The Queen of Pentacles © September 22, 2009 (Fall Equinox) by Donna L. Faber, is the first in a tarot card series (that I may or may not finish).  It is done on Strathmore Bristol 300 Series Vellum with Staedler pigment liner pens, Prismacolor premiere markers, and good old fashioned Crayola Pip-Squeaks.  She’s been cut out and assembled from three separate pieces.

This was a very inspired piece that came quickly and precisely through my pen, as though she was eager to emerge, as though she had something to prove.  Perhaps she does.   This is also one of my favorite recent pieces, and is inspired by someone I know personally.

The Queen of Pentacles is one of four minor arcana queens in a typical 72 card tarot desk used for divination.  Each of the Queens has certain characteristics indicative of the suit they’re in.  They can be, and often are, symbolic of a specific person when they appear in a reading.  I’ve gotten in the habit of providing a narrative for new works of art, as each come from a personal place of intense inspiration.  I’ll do the same for this piece.  You’ll note that in ways this narrative may differ from the standard Queen of Pentacles description.

Who is the Queen of Pentacles?

The Queen of Pentacles is a mature woman who is pragmatic and appreciates the value of hard work.  She may not be the Queen of a kingdom, but she is certainly the Queen of her family.  She demonstrates a practical awareness that empowers her and others; shares her gifts abundantly, but uses discernment and savvy in their distribution.  She has a keen, logical mind, goes about her work quietly, but in the stillness of her thoughts can solve the most confusing dilemmas. She always seeks a solution.  Her meditation is found in the garden with her hands in the dirt surrounded by blooming flowers, butterflies, hummingbirds, and busy bees.  These sacred messengers are all part of nature’s bounty, synonymous with the Queen's bounty, all of which she is in tune with quite naturally.  She also embodies the attributes of earth, and like earth, cannot and will not be moved unless she wills it.  The Queen of Pentacles expresses her love through hard work and provision, and wants to share everything she has with her children, whom she loves very much.  She has an appreciation for the finer things in life, but it is because she’s earned them, not because they were handed to her.  She has purposefully instilled that value in her daughters.

Her smile is genuine, and when she willingly and genuinely bestows it upon you, or throws her head back in laughter, she is radiant.  Like the light of a hundred suns, the Queen’s beauty emanates from deep within.  This renders her quite breathtaking, although she is not what is typically considered beautiful. Beneath the softness and pliancy of mature skin are muscles and bones made of steel, hard and durable, forged from years of hard work, good food, and physical fitness.  This strength and endurance serve her well now.  As the world changes and economic times are increasingly tenuous, she knows she can count on her physical strength to carry her through.  This is her quiet pride.  She is not vain, but she is proud.

The Evolved Queen of Pentacles

The Queen of Pentacles has experienced dark nights of the spirit.  She has stared the Dark Mother in the eyes; at times in terror, and in other times, acceptance.  Her eyes, in fact, have seen great sorrow, but still retain their luster. Her personal pain is reformed but not forgotten, symbolized by a single dark tear on her cheek.  She no longer punishes herself for short comings, and what was once anxiety no longer holds sway over the health of her emotional body.  A radiating spiral on the other cheek acknowledges the magic inherent within her, the natural force she was once uncomfortable with, but now embraces. In the wisdom of maturity, this Queen forgave herself the sins heaped upon her (by herself and others) in order to claim her worthiness and happiness.  She did not stop to ask anyone’s permission but her own.

This queen acknowledges and accepts all aspects of herself (although some aspects remain very private), leading to increasing realization of the multi-faceted Goddess within. 

She is your mother, grandmother, aunt, sister or friend. 

Perhaps she is simply a special acquaintance.

In her practical, well groomed and finely tailored way, she is a force to be reckoned with.

She is also a very inspired piece of art.

She is the Queen of Pentacles.

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