Creative Arts and Healing
Spring Report! 
Dear friends -- The rain has swept my newly planted garden, the cat is on the deck licking rainwater out of a flowerpot dish, the sun is laying a pale stream of gold on the still lush rye grass, the camellias are still singing rose colored songs from between damp leaves, and I turn my thoughts to rebirth, as is befitting the season.

Rebirth is a bittersweet topic, as tomorrow marks the second anniversary of my father's death. Bob Sabaroff was almost ninety and had a life of great accomplishment, adventure, friendship: architect, engineer, professor, patron of the arts, world traveler, there is nothing to mourn -- except the loss of his presence, his quirky and dependable pronouncements such as "Look with your eyes!" and "Hope springs eternal in the human breast." The latter was said with gentle mockery because he knew hope alone didn't always bring success to our endeavors, but it was said with compassion too, for humanity's lot.

As the world seems to be in revolution - across the ocean - and in America the parties who try to rule our democracy are fighting it out as to who can blame the loudest, I continue to live my life as if I am the governing hub of my little existence, my Ka-ness. I just finished up an eight week class at the women's prison, publishing an anthology of the amazing and profound writings of the inmates, that they named "Imaginations Uncovered" -- and oh what power imagination has, to free us from behind whatever bars appear to be locking us in. The women humble me with their strength, and they honor me with their sharing. The same is true for my class at a senior retirement community, where one of my students laughingly praised me for "flipping her switch" - that is, giving her creativity an outlet, something we all need.

I ponder what's next --- a new class coming up at the prison next week, a new class at the senior center in April, a trip out to Oregon in August to celebrate my 50th high school reunion -- seeing people i haven't been in touch with since i left home for college at seventeen! And more immediately, more veggies planted, more veggies harvested, more walks in the neighborhood, more work on my Wheel of Belonging book of sermons and faith columns, hopefully to be printed by June -- when my garden is reaching its peak! More Tuesday morning stints at the homeless shelter, preparing and serving food to those who have lost their jobs, their homes, but hopefully not their hopeful spirit; i count my blessings as I ladle out their casseroles, I pray for a society who counts the homeless as true members
of our planetary family.

Readers, I ask you now as I ask myself - what is being reborn today? What do we have faith in? How do we want to spend our time, our energy, our money? What words lie hidden within us waiting for expression? What evolutionary visions have we of this season, of the promise of tomorrow? Let us not forget that idealism is its own reward, so much more practical than cynicism or despair!

Write to me - share with me - dance with me - as the rain stops and the sun comes out. I praise our intimacy across whatever divides us.


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dear friends, readers, all who happen upon this post

I KNOW i wrote a blog entry in August. I had just returned from more than two weeks of R and R up North, in Morgantown, West Virginia and Ithaca, New York, including a week long stay at a cottage on Cayuga Lake, and I was revved for thinking about Fall when the sap would rise and I'd be on a creative wave of energy.

I wrote in that entry about returning to teach in the prisons, a women's prison, not far from my home, offering writing to the inmates. I used to teach in the jail and the prisons nearby but haven't since 1998. I hope one day to compile an anthology of writings from the inmates and from my own pen (we always write on the word prompts together). I will call it PRISON WISDOM. Its amazing how each person has a unique voice, a unique back story, a unique heartfelt way of expressing their reality. And, as someone more famous than me once remarked "We are ALL doing time."

I wrote a blog about returning to the wonders of my garden, where the zinnias were aflame and happy to see me, how my cats rejoiced and my parakeet sang like crazy, and so on and so on, and I posted it, and I thought it was there, but when i recently went to check -- woosh, it wasn't there at all.

Did I dream the whole thing up? Anything is possible!

So here I am, trying again... and sharing that this morning for the first time in a long hot summer, i felt a coolness come in the window, and my heart sang -- ah, a whiff of Autumn. For Fall truly has always been my favorite season, i feel invigorated and ready to take on projects, discover new challenges, and take advantage of opportunities that suddenly appear
and beckon to me.

Thank all of you for being alive at this time, too, and being part of the tapestry of my
life, my journey. Since this is not an interactive site, remember you can e-mail me if you have thoughts or reactions or just want to share your own hopes, dreams, victories,
worries, and rejoicings.

Now, let's see if this will post!

xo Ka

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My Spring to-do list
plant garden, water garden
watch my life ripen


And, it's time for a catch up. What have I been up to since the last entry? Writing a whole sheaf of Out the Window poems, inspired by a pen pal whose barred window reveals only a brick wall, who asked me "What do you see today out your window?" Perhaps this collection of "what do you really see when you look, how is nature revealing herself, and what human spin does my consciousness make of the scene before me?" will be published to inspire others to watch the shifting reality of their own landscape. I've also taught another Lifestories class, held a writing retreat at Alligator Point, and offered a Haiku Hour at our local Knott House Museum.

I honored the one year anniversary of my father, Bob Sabaroff's, death, on March 11.

April 30 is the last full day of paid employment for my husband Tom as he transits into retirement and creating his own firm to continue his conflict resolution advocacy.

On May 1, our daughter, Alana Rose Taylor, will graduate with a degree in architecture from Univ of Florida, and go on to graduate school for her Masters.

I'm out in the garden planting and watering, picking flowers for my sills and kitchen table altar, getting ready to update my will -- yes, mortality is on my mind -- swimming at Myer's Park Pool several times a week, continuing to take stock of my life in my current journal, and writing "assignments" with friends, and pondering - as always - what workshops or offerings are next, which manuscripts to compile into books....

I go on witnessing the political stream of rancor and hope, trying to "be the change I want to see in the world" rather than frenzied demonization of "the other side" (so easy to fall into this trap), weeping for tragic loss of life in earthquakes and other climactic disasters, celebrating the passage of health care reform - even in its imperfect complexity -- weekly visiting my public library to nourish my continuing love affair with books, language, as well as tuning in to the wisdom and talent of fellow writers...

And I'm pledging to write my blog entries more consistently, in case my readers are wondering where I've gone to, and when I'll return!

every day I find myself
beginning again

So grateful for my life, my fellow pilgrims, my earth, and this amazing internet that permits us all to share instantaneously and continuously with one another. On we go!

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Dear readers, friends, family, whoever accidentally or on purpose is now reading my words:

Summer in Tallahassee, I'm back from California where I had to clean out my dad's house of all his earthly possessions -- the end of a chapter, a chapter of having living parents (my mom died in 02, my dad in march of this year)... and what a relief it is to be looking out my study window at the last of my garden -- a bumper crop of basil, a few scraggly left over tomatoes, zinnias, and some flowering japanese eggplant that will continue to produce for another month or two -- and soon, it will be time to dig it all up, and consider a fall garden... such are the rhythms of nature and my life.

Now is the time to begin considering offering Haiku Hour and LifeStories workshops around town -- Fall is always a time of renewed energy and productivity -- whereas summer is a time to slack off and drink cold lemonade and read library books and go swimming -- in a privileged life, which mine is -- I remember once, a very long time ago, when i was in my early thirties, and still leading a somewhat tumultuous life -- that an astrologer doing my chart told me "You will have a serene old age." Maybe that is now, maybe these are my golden years, that would be sweet.

Not that there aren't earthly, mortal challenges that show up on any given day, unexpectedly, and that is as it should be -- otherwise the line that shows brain and heart activity would be flat and boring -- one wants waves and crests and spillings and risings up and spillings again -- at least I do -- and more poems, which come from a place both of satisfaction and disturbance -- poems of praise, and also poems of sorrow and disruption -- for both are linked to one another, in some mysterious way, I find.

My dad's death -- counterpoint to my daughter starting her last year of college in the architecture program -- counterpoint to the health care crisis in america -- counterpoint to the appointment of the first hispanic supreme court justice -- counterpoint to
so many polarities and ironies and discoveries and paradoxes that make my time on earth so fascinating and worthy of contemplation.

What is this blog but a way of hearing myself and sharing with you the thoughts and feelings that pass through the matrix of my unique consciousness? In the hopes that somehow it matters -- what i think and feel - and the hope that my ramblings will inspire you to write your own messages onto the fabric of the universe.... and into my e-mail box (see bio-contact page to e-mail me)...

What I see sees me
a mirror echo image
caught in a poem


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Dear friends, fellow writers, and curious ones who just happened upon this blog -- the birds are singing in my little corner of Tallahassee, the golden hibiscus have opened their cups to the sun, and finally, after what feels like years -- my web site designer, Elgin, and I are about to activate this web site so that the whole world has access to Creative Arts and Healing Studio. How dramatic and post-modern and marvelous is that??? I am a humble practitioner of life -- like the rest of us -- but in this site I am trying to create or re-create a legacy of 30 years of work in the field of writing and the healing arts. (I can only hope for thirty more, because a writer's work is never done, nor a healer's, and just being alive on the planet is a gift, I find. )

My next big project is filling out the Healing Touch and Movement section of this site.
I want to dance, and invite you to dance; I want to reach out and touch you with my hands, and invite you to touch loved ones, friends, colleagues, and even strangers - in need - yes - with your hands. I want to explore with you the relaxing "Rock Around the Joints" move, that is so soothing and balancing, as well as the art of Foot Reflexology, and invite you to play "mirror" with friends, students, clients, to learn new ways to move, and to become "one," in essence, with the person you are mirroring.

I want to share personal essays I have written on the inherent power and beauty of the body that each of us inhabits, a body that is too often seen as "separate" from the mind -- a body that has been forced to sit still, wear uncomfortable shoes, never encouraged to break into a jig on a sidewalk, a body that we often ignore, or punish, through neglect or harsh habits.

I do not intend to offer sermons, (preaching the way and truth and light!) but simply, I want to share what I love with you -- the art of putting words together to create beauty and meaning -- the art of movement, the multiplicity of ways our bodies can express themselves -- and the art of touch -- using our hands to relieve stress or pain in ourselves and others, to soothe and uplift and nourish...Ah yes...

And, in my personal life, my 21 year old daughter Alana is about to fly to Hong Kong, China, and Japan for eight weeks with a group of architecture students -- to learn about design in the Far East --- yes, she will get to Japan before I do --- and hopefully, write some Haiku while on her journey --which I will gladly share with you, my readers.

And on Mother's Day weekend - with my daughter already in Hong Kong, Tom and I will head for St. George Island --- where I hope to write a long piece on my dear father, Bob Sabaroff, who died at the age of 89, after a very brief decline, on March 11 (09). Dad was an architect, engineer, professor, world traveler, and patron of the arts, and was married to my mom Rose (who died in '02) for 62 years. What an adventuresome, full, accomplished existence, and I carry him (and Mom) within me always.

That's the news of the last day of April. Tomorrow, May Day, my site goes live!
And the work and pleasure before me stretches onward....

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