Flower Fairies Are Never Far Away

~~*~~

Flower fairies are never far away.

This pic shows my husband Denny and his mom Clarice cleaning up after Christmas dinner. Denny and I spent last Christmas with his mom Clarice. We have celebrated the last 7 years of the Christmas holidays with her. During any holiday we knew we would all be together. Not this coming Christmas though, as Clarice has passed away. She died unexpectedly of a massive stroke on May 17th at a hospital not far away. That seems poetic in some ways..

"not far away".

What her loss has given to me is the wind through my hair bringing more meaning. Each and every flower, every tree I see now reveals to me that time is short and time should be embraced as fragile. Clarice was my muse as an artist as she was a dancer, in spirit and soul. She loved each day and met it with the pleasure it is meant to be. Today as I find myself missing her, again, I remind myself of those things about her that I admired. Thus I am grateful. I breathe in this very second of my life and feel its potential. My personal potential in the arts, the ability to connect with emotions and present them in clay, oil paints and poetry. I have the freedom to express who I am, my take on life,there can be no sweeter gift.

I have two solar bumble bees in my garden that Clarice bought for me a week or so before she had her stroke. They are like flower fairies that bring a kind of magic of rainbows at night, as their colors change from reds, purples, blues, greens, oranges and yellows, colors my artist palette does hold. As I imagine my bees to be tiny fairies I feel the need to sculpt and continue on with my own gifts as well as the gifts that Clarice brought to me. I dance before my artwork as she danced in lovely costumes.

Farewell dear Clarice.. I will remember this part of you and appreciate each moment more, paying closer attention to small miracles often looked over by me.

Farewell dear lady.

~~*~~

Maxwell, My Dogs Secret Life.. Who Knew!?

Ya just never know what your dog is doing while you are sleeping. You may THINK you know but may not really. I would advise you to watch your pooch carefully.. he/she might just have a SECRET LIFE!!

Check out my Squidoo lens where I tell the whole story! I am just amazed!!

http://www.squidoo.com/doggie-clothes-dog-toys-my-dogs-secret-life

My Nude Valentine

Goddess artist, Kathy Ostman-Magnusen's art is now showing paintings in the My Nude Valentine show, Chelsea, New York, presented by Barebrush. Thank you so much to fellow artist Penelope Przekop for passing the photo on to me. PENELOPE~ YOU ROCK! Other help provided by Bob Hogge, owner of Monkdogz Urban Art, NY, along with Marina Hadley. Everybody knows that Bob Hogge ROCKS! Thank you Bob! Pic is of opening night; my paintings are on the back wall. To view the paintings if you are in New York, you are invited! If not you can see the images on my website, http://www.kathyostman-magnusen.com under the "Primal Series". You can also view it on http://www.Barebrush.com



BAREBRUSH SHOW

MY NUDE VALENTINE 2011


http://www.barebrush.com/mynudevalentine/index.php


My N*de Valentine is the first-ever “brick & mortar” gallery show for N*des-of-the-Month, the monthly, world-wide online art calendar contest. Hosted by Barebrush.com at Rogue Space | Chelsea in New York City, there are 49 artists participating with art coming from the US as well as Australia, Croatia, England, Panama, Russia, and Spain. You're invited! Come out and see this art in person!

Dates

Thursday, February 10 through Sunday, February 13, 2011


Thursday, February 10, 6-9pm — Reception

Friday, February 11, 10am-6pm — Meet the Artists Gallery Hours

Saturday, February 12:

10am-6pm — Meet the Artists Gallery Hours

1-3pm — Artists’ Roundtable Discussion and Interviews

Sunday, February 13:

noon-5pm — Meet the Artists Gallery Hours

4pm — Awards Presentation

Location

Rogue Space|Chelsea, 526 West 26th Street, 9th Fl, New York, NY 10001

About Rogue Space|Chelsea

RogueSpace (“the gallery”) is a premier gallery and exhibition space. Located in the West Chelsea Building, the gallery is in the heart of the Chelsea art district which has become one of the most popular destinations for New York art lovers.

About Barebrush.com

Barebrush.com is a worldwide monthly art calendar contest and exhibition. Each artist member gets a personal gallery page to show his or her work. Art for the calendars is selected by guest curators. Artists gain recognition for their work and win prizes. Online since 2006 with Barebrush N*des-of-the-Month. Barebrush founder and CEO, Ilene Skeen states:

Barebrush is absolutely committed to the guest curator approach and to helping artists find collectors and make connections with galleries. Artists succeed by getting people excited about their work. This includes dealers, collectors, other artists, and art professionals. I believe that Barebrush is supplying a unique service: validation of art of the nude by a wide variety of well-respected art professionals. In addition, it it evident that the public especially enjoys the monthly calendars. By demonstrating success at Barebrush, we move toward our goal of increasing the awareness, appreciation and acceptance of the art of the nude.

Ms. Skeen adds this message: “The underlying mission of Barebrush is about personal liberty. There’s a lot of censorship and antagonism towards the art of the nude in the US and even in New York. To me, the art of the nude is about our shared humanity and personal freedom. I hope that promoting it in a non-threatening and positive way will open people’s minds to the fact that it is important to stand up for all of our personal freedoms and the individual right to choose the art one holds dear.”

Barebrush.com is owned and operated by ILS Designs, LLC, New York, NY.

Making Love to Art

Sculpture and painting are my two lovers, well, I must correct that a bit as my husband Dennis is my first and best lover.. smile. Making love to art though is often like a sex fantasy as art is embraced and carried home to produce our inner being. I elude to sex and the art of projecting passion in most of my art as the goddess art woman arises in me. Today I begin "Bleeding Wings 7" of my sculpture series "Bleeding Wings". On my easel is a 48x60 oil on canvas, to the side of that are 3 other canvas' that have been plotted out ready to express "Bleeding Wings" on canvas.

Lets pause for a second... those who know me, know that I love the experience of art by creating as much of an ambiance with it as is possible online... so turn on some music. Then finish reading my thoughts on my erotic pleasure of doing art.





The back and forth effort between clay and oil paints feels confusing to me at times, I will admit to that, but it honestly feels as if I have no choice but to embrace both at this point. I am bound by the chains that I know will release optimal freedom allowing wings wide and free, that at times refuse to unfold. It is bliss to know that I can fly if I choose, it is something we all choose to release inside of us or not. Will I become what I know I can? Will you? Flight at times seems impossible and yet there is no other choice than to pursue a journey to the top of any mountain I see, with the goal of jumping off. Leaping into an abyss and catching the wind of my lust to know myself and the gift right there in front of me. Flight meets any goddess once that decision is made to pursue it. With that I take a small clump of clay from a plastic bag, feel it in my hands and apply it to the growth of being and the sculpture in front of me. With that I squeeze out glorious colors onto my palette, brush in hand touches the pigments, as by brush erotically mixes one color with another in order to pursue my canvas and deliver its own voice. I am a fantasy art warrior woman, sigh.

Pictured is "Bleeding Wings 2" 18" ~waiting to be fired, work in progress. Goddess art of a warrior woman.. YES!

LYRICS~~~> Glitter In The Air lyrics
Songwriters: Mann, Billy; Moore, Alecia;
Have you ever fed a lover with just your hands?
Close your eyes and trust it, just trust it
Have you ever thrown a fist full of glitter in the air?
Have you ever looked fear in the face
And said I just don't care?

It's only half past the point of no return
The tip of the iceberg, the sun before the burn
The thunder before lightning, the breath before the phrase
Have you ever felt this way?

Have you ever hated yourself for staring at the phone?
Your whole life waiting on the ring to prove you're not alone
Have you ever been touched so gently you had to cry?
Have you ever invited a stranger to come inside?

It's only half past the point of oblivion
The hourglass on the table, the walk before the run
The breath before the kiss and the fear before the flames
Have you ever felt this way?

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la

There you are, sitting in the garden
Clutching my coffee, calling me sugar
You called me sugar

Have you ever wished for an endless night?
Lassoed the moon and the stars and pulled that rope tight
Have you ever held your breath and asked yourself
Will it ever get better than tonight? Tonight

Ahh goddess art of beautiful women, THANK YOU Pink for the glorious performance!

~~*~~

"Inside the Belly of a Crime I Never Committed"

"Bleeding Wings 6" 18" clay sculpture by Kathy Ostman-Magnusen

"Inside the Belly of a Crime I Never Committed"

I feel hidden inside the belly of a crime I never committed.
I feel coaxed toward the pleasure of a sin not yet known
guilt in mind
I set focus on the betrayal of my own self worth.
As I wind my heart around it all
like a ball of yarn 
lines that have been added to 
with the intention of meeting other things
the warmth of a sweater
a blanket to cover me at night
or a mind that screams
when I feel vulnerable.

I am not so disillusioned by the dwelling of introspection
that I am not safe though.
My palm shows generous stories
just like any one else's.
I tend the garden of complacency
grieving for lost artwork.
I hold tea parties at midnight
when no one is watching
and I call on every demon angel I have ever met there.
They tend to sing too loud though
and so
I quiet them by sharing my poems
and brushing my hair with remote intentions. 
Be safe 
I whisper
and we will all find shelter in a far off cove
that was always meant for lovers.

by Kathy Ostman-Magnusen
27 October 2010
Copyright 2010

INVENTORY AT MONKDOGZ, NEW YORK:

"Mr. Magnusen", 30x40x2 oil on canvas

The image is of my (Kathy Ostman-Magnusen) painting of Dennis.

Artist's Statement:

"Mr. Magnusen", 30x40x2 oil on canvas, by Kathy Ostman-Magnusen

Artist's Statement:

Mr. Magnusen, the subject of my painting, shares many of my same memories. We grew up not far from one another In S. California and later attended the same high school. It was in high school that I fell in love with Dennis G Magnusen. That love story was put on hold for some 30 years.

In 1967 Dennis was drafted by the US Army, and subsequently went to Vietnam in 1968. Circumstances and follies of youth would cause us to follow separate paths.

While in Vietnam Dennis was strongly affected by the children he saw there. "Children were never meant to experience war", he told me years later. He decided that he wanted to do his part to change the world. "Real change in any society begins with the children," was Dennis' mantra, so he became a teacher. He worked with gang zone high school kids in the evenings and intermediate students in the afternoon. Grades of F's and D's were bought up to A's and B's. Mr. Magnusen reached beyond his own expectations, leading kids to an understanding of their own worth, thus opening doors to their potential futures. He created a surf club and got the community to help. He was often featured on local TV and newspapers as someone who was making a difference in children's lives. Dennis also became a Mentor teacher, lending help to other educators. Being somewhat of a rebel he advised fellow teaches of ideas that reached beyond standard textbook techniques.

Sadly the ghost of Vietnam took away Mr. Magnusen's strength in the form of Peripheral Neuropathy, caused by Agent Orange. By 1990 he was too ill to continue his beloved teaching career. It broke his heart. Seeking rest, relief from stress, needing a special place to deal with the physical pain that comes with Small Nerve Fiber Neuropathy, he relocated to Hawaii. Hawaii has been his solace and a cool breeze when memories of who he once was for kids becomes faint.

About three months ago "Mr. Magnusen" was contacted by a former student. Amy had been looking for him for eighteen years. She had heard he had died from Agent Orange complications, but still hoped that she would find him. You see, Amy became a teacher and she wanted to find Mr. Magnusen to tell him how much he had affected her life. While working on her Masters in Literature, Amy wrote a paper describing the most influential person in her life. That person was Mr. Magnusen. Amy called to tell Mr. Magnusen that she wanted to make a difference in this world too. For a teacher there can be no greater reward.

As for me? I found Dennis once again after 30 years, through a miracle of circumstance, but that I guess is another story.

Meet the Artist, "me" in San Diego, CA

Hi!

If you are in Southern California this Tuesday, 6/15/10 come and meet the artists! Dani Dodge, Marilyn Szabo and "me"! We will all be speaking about our artwork.

Hugz~!

Dennis Needs Help, The VA is NEGLIGENT

"Mr. Magnusen" 36x48x2 oil on canvas


"Dennis Needs Help, The VA is NEGLIGENT"

This has nothing to do with art per say except that my husband Dennis is an artist, he plays guitar and writes beautiful songs. He has written many for me as we were high school sweethearts who reconnected after 30 years. He love me.

I have posted the painting I did of him that was in the Schaefer Portrait Challenge in Hawaii, called, "Mr. Magnusen"

If you know of anyone who might help him or want to pray for him I would appreciate your assistance.

Here is his story:

To whom it may concern,

My name is Dennis G. Magnusen, I used to be a mentor teacher in Hawaiian Gardens, CA. This was a hard place for a kid to grow up, gangs were well established in this area. I taught junior high during the day, home students in the afternoon, and high school "gangsters" in the evening out of a community
store front school. I loved my job; I took it very seriously. I became an educator because of my experiences
in Vietnam; I did not like what war did to people nor to children, therefore, I taught peaceful resolution to conflicts whenever it seemed necessary. I had to quit teaching in 1990 due to the effects of Agent Orange; I moved to Hawaii.

HERE IS THE PROBLEM: My VA doctor of 18 years (Dr. George W. Ross, Chief of Neurology for the state of Hawaii) finally admitted that he knows nothing about my medical condition. He always told me that "I should not be in so much pain" and that "it is not going to kill me". As it turns out, he could not be more wrong.

In early 2008 I was diagnosed with severe small fiber neuropathy from a biopsy that was sent to Therapath Lab,NY. This is a very painful disease that controls the autonomic nervous system; this has never been addressed by the VA. The only thing the VA has done is to load me up on drugs. Most doctors are amazed that I can even get out of bed with so many medications. I need treatment (i.e. IVIG), not more meds.

In 2008 Dr. Ross recommended that I see Dr. Mandaville (at Univ. Calif. at San Diego and also with the VA in LaJolla). On January 15, 2008, I was to meet with the VA's neurologist who was going to turn me over to Dr. Mandeville. Instead, the VA's neurologist (Dr. Vivan) said that they were going to "re-test" me. It has been a year since that meeting and nothing has changed, they schedule me 4-6 months after each test to see a neurologist, and then order another test.

I need help. In December of 2009, I had to go to the ER twice. The first time I went to a local hospital, I was convulsing and could not breathe ( I was throwing-up continuously and therefore could not keep my meds down), the pain was severe. The next day it happened again. This time I went to the VA in LaJolla, a 25 mile drive. I had to wait in ER for 5 hours before being seen. Once again in severe pain. I was admitted for 3 days before being stabilized. I can't help but to think this wouldn't happen if I was not on so many meds.

In the VA's Patient Right's, it states: "You will be treated with dignity, compassion, and respect as an individual. You will receive care in a safe environment." I've never felt like I was a recipient of this kind of care, it's more like DENY, DELAY and DEATH.

So far I've been diagnosed with peripheral neuropathy, avascular necrosis ( left hip has had a full replacement, the right hip is still deteriorating), cardiomyopathy, COPD, chronic pain, chest pain, PTSD, persistent insomnia, acute sinusitis, acute tonsillitis, malaise and fatigue, cough, pyronies disease, gastrointestinal motility, and small fiber neuropathy, as well as a few others.

I need help. All I want is a doctor who can help me. There are still things in this world that I want to accomplish. I want the VA to treat me with dignity, compassion, and respect as an individual, and give me that care in a safe environment.

Dennis G Magnusen

BAREBRUSH ARTIST OF THE MONTH~ I WON! THANKS TO ALL MY FRIENDS

BAREBRUSH ARTIST OF THE MONTH~ I WON! THANKS TO ALL MY FRIENDS!

THANK YOU, THANK YOU!!

Art on Barebrush VOTE FOR ME!! #19

VOTE FOR ME!! #19
~~*~~
HI! My painting has been selected by Marina Hadley for Curator's Choice. Voting is on your left~ Would you do me a favor and VOTE FOR ME! "#19" ? That's my painting! Vote for "Curators Choice" and then again for "My Fav" both "#19".. OK? THANK YOU SO MUCH! ~Kathy

http://www.barebrush.com/NOTM/Archives/NOTM2009_11.php


Art~ PLEASE VOTE for ME~Vote #19 "Curators Choice" &again for "My Fav" both "#19".. OK? THANK YOU SO MUCH! ~Kathy

"Young Girls Who Die Too Soon - Remembering Terry "

This is a little watercolor I did for HayHouse Inc. that is in Anne Wilson Schaef's "Meditations for Women Who Do Too Much" CARDS. I am the illustrator of all of those cards. I considered my own two daughters as I painted the one above. ~Kathy

"Young Girls Who Die Too Soon - Remembering Terry "

Her name was written on a stone
Terry
in a light pink shade of sadness
for she was a lovely
but very lonely 
girl
who had passed away in Spring
so many years ago now.

I guess one could say
that pink
had turned to blue
and  in the early mornings
when the sun
was not yet seeping though my windows
I heard her chanting
with all those tunes
that had turned into
a purple
hue.
And me 
feeling the light 
that fell through shades of wonder
gave in
to sorrow. 

Who would think to shred a blossom
before it could be opened?
It felt like that 
whenever I missed her 
and thought of her passing
on.
Sad tokens of roses and deserted vases
I will forever remember them
in closets tied fast 
to memories 
and a young girls potential dreams
and the gift of untitled songs.

Who would tread on that path?
The one that a girl would know
and possibly find herself in?
Not me
nor you?
Not even a startled lark
would paddle that row.

I wear a hat on formal occasions
just like my grandma used to do.
I decided later
after my last gallery opening
it was indeed an most appropriate
fashion statement
for me
to do.

Within my insecurities
I measured it
that hat
so its band fit
making me feel 
as my grandma would insist upon
well groomed.

And yes
indeed
 it was quite fitting
blue bonnet
in fashion I wore it 
in honor of a young girl 
who was never to meet a history
for she
was only doomed. 
Never to know gallery openings
at all
nor paintings
that filled a room.

I cannot count the stanzas
to poems that I write
not anymore
no
but I fill a notebook and stroke its moods
that my own mind
explores.
And
into this gloom felt
it all
so overwhelmingly
intrudes.

Oft times people strike a mood
and let me say here now
that in this tale
that stride 
does indeed
include
"you".
YOU made me feel too sad
and 
too alone
and wanting for a girl 
to rise
despite her passing
long ago.
And knowing she was not singing
anymore 
beyond 
a larks glistening eyes
or inside anyones heart
but mine
and maybe
her sister
mother and father.
I felt distracted
by you
and your demanding
unknowing
mimes
despite the eulogy
time signs.

I think sometimes that I might not surface
again
and I'll be that girl who died
oh
but then
sinking into my pillow
late at night
I reflect
knowing
that she had passed
in front of me
ahh yes
dying eyes.
So I charm my memories
despite a damsels 
last
pitiful
shrinking 
sigh.

In the morning
I find
that I am opening my eyes
again
to meet whatever that day plans.
Routine takes me ore
just like everyone else
just like everyone else...
except
maybe
a young girl I have known
except
a young girl walking
beyond
a rules exclusive ride
who meets me when I think of her
and cautions me
to walk beyond the sadness
of her passing 
and my own
sorrowful 
eyes.

Kathy Ostman-Magnusen
30 August 2009
Copyright 2009

Sculpture "Bleeding Wings 3" ~Art in Progress

Sculpture "Bleeding Wings 3" ~Art in Progress.

This piece is drying still as I prepare to photograph "Bleeding Wings 4"

These pieces can be found on one of my websites:

http://www.kathyostman-magnusen.com

Jesse Cook Europa HQ (videoclip)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uoFPNy0JVQI

"Leonardo da Vinci - Scientist & Inventor Sculpt His Way Far Beyond Brilliant Conclusions"

"Aftermath" 48x60x2 oil on canvas, Kathy Ostman-Magnusen

This is my time, anyone's time, to reach beyond what was understood yesterday, yes, reach beyond brilliant conclusions even. This is the day and perfect time. Stretch your mind as did Leonardo da Vinci and many famous artists have.

TURN ON THE MUSIC VIDEO TO READ MY POEM BELOW... SMILE



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vTxKmv9PrD0&feature=fvw

"Leonardo da Vinci - Scientist & Inventor Sculpt His Way Far Beyond Brilliant Conclusions"

There were melodies past the rhythm of the expected
that caused my heart to echo applauds.
I clapped my hands together for I'd found my space there.
A space that I'd been longing for.

I pulled off my mask
and all my mental clothes
felt the freedom of deliverance
embraced my zeal for creativity and my own being
to be known.

I will not be contained I screamed
Hear me!
Seducing the blaze that strokes the vintage stranger
near ignored.
Let me explore artists of yore
Warhol, Picasso, Klimt, Modigliani
Michelangelo
my reaching and reasoning being.
I love their passion.

Matisse, remind me of the colors and set my instincts in focus.
Help me feel the pigments with the eagerness of a lover.

Let me call on Leonardo da Vinci
scientist and inventor
sculpting his way beyond brilliant conclusions.
The depth of him
unquenchable curiosity
botanist, architect, mathematician,
musician.
Illegitimate son of a peasant woman
back in the day when those roots
did not bring one
too many dimensions.

I will not be contained I scream
looking at da Vinci and where my own life
should
or could
be.
Ah Leonardo da Vinci what a mentor
dear muse you are.

This is my time
anyone's time
to reach beyond what was understood yesterday
yes, reach beyond brilliant conclusions even.
This is the day and perfect time.
The acquisition of knowledge
there
before us all.
How monumental
stunning and how truly amazing
this road
glorious opportunity
there directly in front of all of us.

Copyright 2009
by Kathy Ostman-Magnusen

"Bleeding Wings"

I just posted my new sculpture to my "Primal Art" website. My other website it tame and child friendly.. this one? Nope.

Anyway... check out my new work:


http://www.kathyostman-magnusen.com/Kathy_Ostman-Magnusen_Art/ART_IN_PROGRESS__SCULPTURE.html

Traveling Children

Robert Miles - Children, Song was popular in Europe in mid 90's

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Rz4p5MeJJ8

"There Are Children in the Grave Who Used to Laugh and Sing"

"Little Girl" 18x20 oil on canvas

Children are the saddest casualty of any war or conflict. If you listen you can hear them calling out.

"There Are Children in the Grave Who Used to Laugh and Sing"

There are children in the grave
who used to laugh
and sing
and go to school
like normal children do.
But now
there are children in the grave.
Patriotic songs ring out
for men play games of war
and power.

Hiding under the covers
alone time
trying not to hear their cries
that no longer make a sound
and yet
screaming
continually
if you pause long enough
to hear.
Like the saddest symphony
a thousand instruments
objecting to the end
heard
silent.

I listen for it still
as reluctantly as you
and wear those colors
blue
keeping them tightly clutched
inside my hand.
Passers by
sometimes forget
that kind of emptiness
but we won't
right?

Right to count the storms
yet oh
I wish this one
was over.
Take even steps
mark the time
number our falls
stand still in those permanent spaces
ready
courage to speak out
against a young child's rival.

The intensions of the determined
crush against such memories
demanding muteness.
But oh
we should always hesitate
before moving on.
We don't need to see the wind
to understand the light around us
confessions come easiest
when impulsive.
Yes
we should always honor the voices
of those children
who never got a chance to sing
their songs
as loud as we could
if we chose to
before our life
was gone.

There are children in the grave
who used to laugh
and sing
and go to school
like normal children do.
But now
there are children
in the grave.

Copyright 2009
by Kathy Ostman-Magnusen

"I Was Meant to Fly Higher Than My Imagination Sometimes Allows -Higher Than Any Fairy is 'Allowed'"

"For Isa" 18x24 oil on canvas



Soo... turn on the music/Utube if you haven't already.. It makes for nice ambiance for my poem below.

"I Was Meant to Fly Higher Than My Imagination Sometimes Allows -Higher Than Any Fairy is 'Allowed'"
~~*~~

She tried to imagine herself flying
but she couldn't
only fairies can fly that high.

Blending spirits in that moment...
It is an unmistakable journey
one that starts under the sea
greeted by discoveries
never imagined before.

Beams of light
from the diamonds off the water
for a rainbow to meet
and thus
a mermaid is greeted
by a magical dragons
undying sigh
melted
to a greeting.
It is not impossible to sing
those magical
nights.

And if you did not know
how far a dream can measure
how far a longing
can go
let me tell you
it is
without a doubt
very
very
far
past the doubting heart.

Magic should never be measured
not it you want to save a heart.
Never try to bind a worry
of a latent measure
for newness to be met
beyond the thought of who we can be
or of who we are in fact
are.

I can fly as high as I long to
and if you think high enough
my captain
my darling
so
my restless prince
can you.
Come close to where we are
its very close.

I want to reach that circumference
I trust
and feel the height of it
one bleeding intake
of my breath at a time.

There are circles that never end
and within that measure
we hold onto hope
waiting beyond contentment
beyond what is expected
and in that miracle
find not one single second
of rest.

Mercy should not take pity
never.

And past today
let me feel every circumstance
and feel the ultimate
overwhelmed
unharnessed in forever un-groomed.
Let me realize my own spark
holding out
forever holding out
past the night
beyond what is sighted here
beyond the prince
groomed.

Let me climb that high
let me be the beam
of my own light
and never stop trying to absorb
every single beat.
Music coming
save me
save me
forever past these days
and their bountiful
release.

Let the sky be higher
than I might ever imagine
let me at least
absorb its
reason for being
and my life
yet un-savory
but still testing.

Don't let me go
the fairy in me spoke
for I am in longing
and in this state of mind
hold out
never pass this moment.
Let me understand
my own wings.

by Kathy Ostman-Magnusen
Copyright 2008

"I Met a Mystic Along a Dusty Pathway - I Had Never Seen Such Magic"

We often judge ourselves harsher than needed. Sometimes the focus should be more on the beauty that is all around us. It is such a dear and simple thing to embrace magic.

"I Met a Mystic Along a Dusty Pathway - I Had Never Seen Such Magic"

There was a mystic
along the pathway
I saw him from a distance.
It became clear as I approached him
that I
was in the face of truth.

My eyes blurred
mixed with tears
for I had never seen magic
up close before.
I had never embraced the truth
in such pure form
as that afternoon
there on a simple dirt road.

I could not speak.
I could barely think really
it was a day that felt too bright
to look upon
and so
I did indeed
look away from him
as he began to pass me by.

He didn't pass me by though.
No
he stood directly in front of me.
I had nowhere to look
but up.
Up to see his eyes on mine.

Feelings of being found out
my plight
my woes
my insecurities
about a forever meaning
he seemed to spy them all.
I was
to me at least
exposed.

What is it that causes us to spill all
when confronted with pure honesty?
Embracing it seemed past logic
it encompassed a certain instinct
one that reels in misgivings about grace.

My will was overpowered
not because I had been beaten into submission
not because proof had glared at me
causing me to succumb.
No
It was a holiness that filled the air
a rainbow on my skin
and a dance
that lead past the skyline.

What I expected from his eyes
seeing me
seeing through me
was a book of rules...
Now you do this
and no more of that.

But the Mystic
only gave me an empty pages
and said
Find your own way
and with every step you take
remember your place in this world
for it is just as holy
as the dawning of a recognition
a removed veil
that reveals the pureness of beauty itself.
Open your eyes
and see the light of creativity.
It has been present all the while
you simply lost your way
and stopped looking for it.
Open your eyes
for a host of elegance displayed.

I could not accept such generosity.
But what about the list
of things that are wrong with me
I don't see it within these pages.

There is no need to write that down
he calmly said
those things seem to burn within you
on their own
you already know your frailties.
Focus on the lovely things
know when others need your help
in seeing those things too.
Take of your shoes
if someone needs them
and you'll be fine.

I wanted to fall to the ground
kiss his feet
but in the very moment
that I accepted his words
he was...
gone.

I thought of Rumi then
of that quote I had rehearsed so many times:

"Today, like every other day, we wake up empty and frightened. Don't open the door to the study and begin reading. Take down a musical instrument.

Let the beauty we love be what we do. There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground." ~ Rumi

And there
along the roadside
I did kiss the ground.

by Kathy Ostman-Magnusen
copyright 2009

Music for my Poetry

Free Coloring Page From Kathy-Happy Day All You Flower Fairies & Mermaid Fans

Double click image to enlarge, then print out.

You may feel free to download this to color or whatever else you like.. just NOT for "RESALE" This is a copyrighted 2009 image and may only be used for personal pleasure.

Happy day to you, Kathy