"It is the artist's choice as to what, when, how and if creative work is to be shared with the public"....with those words said to me, I am an artist, therefore, it is my choice. Beautiful words, INSPIRING words should be shared.
Date: 12/30/2004" Just from what you've told me, it seems that you are now smack in the> middle of making yourself whole. To put it another way; of telling the> stories...giving them a shape so that the hopes and fears have focus and> dimension. Once you have a grasp of the landscape of your past life...its> possible to choose where you'd like to visit. And for a storyteller one of> the surprizing things about THAT sea change is that events that were very> traumatic lose (at least some...maybe all of) their painful quality when> placed in perspective with the wonder of it all. When I was working with> the Secret C. group, I often asked the participants to tell me about their> first memories, as a way of introducing them to the practice of telling "the> beginning of their story" (I think we envision our lives as stories...but> its amazing to me sometimes how little WORK that people do on their stories.> As tho someone else was telling who they were. And its true that the> others around us, the older siblings, parents, adults, and peers....move in> quickly to tell us who we are, who we were, who we can be, who we can't> be....as tho we were a type of dough to be shaped into the vision THEY have> of life.> The solitary child (& I think we are, in our reveries, always being that> child...as well as the one who tells about that child.)...the solitary child> knows better, knows that when we are truly alone with our dreaming of the> wonder of the world, nothing and no one can come between us and the beauty> of our dreams.> Thank you so much for sharing your ballad experiences. They are SO> INSPIRING and are helping me find a way to make the ballad project come into> being. I'm going to think a bit about The Two Sisters/what you wrote...and> respond again after it sinks (ha ha...ballad image!) in.> Dan"
About Me
- Holly Stephenson Ceragioli
- Once upon a time, there lived a little girl. More than anything in the whole wide world, this little girl wanted to be loved. She searched many, many foreign places for love. She kissed many toads for love. She loved and she loved and she loved. The more she loved, the harder it became. Her tiny little heart was fading. Layers and layers of molten skin were binding her. Finally, the little girl exploded. She began lashing out at everything and everyone in sight. Bolts of lightning were striking all she touched and did not touch. She began to spin out of control. As she spun, rings and rings were spinning off of her painting the earth. Many colors began flying throughout the air. Suddenly, she was naked. She looked into the water and there, she found her love. Now, to find the prince…
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