Kate Lamberg Center for Natural Healing and Creative Arts~

  setauket   harbor~ kate lamberg (c) '19    cool august night air lets us open windows, feel the blue breeze buffeting moods-- elevating, like mourning doves quickening-- this time of great transitioning-- how we all open to receive the newly born apples and pears-- remembering when their blossoms drew us up to dance in a warm butter spring-- now the sweet tart fragrances of chilly dark mornings--dry crisp leaves paving the lanes we travel- tenderness tugs-- weaving with the memories of past autumns-- in a quiet bittersweet resolve-- summer, we've had quite enough of your hot tempered ways--fair adieu!

major warm chords-- become love as prayer     simply staying present to witness miracles  

the cosmos is loaded with ideas: as artists we keep our paintboxes, journals, and songbooks open to capture the manna the manna that becomes the direction for the poem or painting or song the collective consciousness is where we line up as artist souls-- to dream a similar dream, or to create something that echoes each other    pointing to the sense: we are more alike than different we all receive uplifting images, or terrible news, and we all fall down in real time we get up, and breathe in the same blue sky  words/photo~katyajo (c) '19

 Her pen flowed tai chi like--as if dancing in slow motion-- smudged in shades of green, purple, and turquoise. Under a warm salty sea, she was found writing her heart out of its shell. Her words fell abruptly onto the sandy sea bottom. Freedom bubbles rose up through the saline waters she knew too well. Then, stillness and silence enclosed her like a sari--healing the emotional body, on contact with the jeweled embodied colors of  the sea.  photo by katyajo (c) '19

  a glimpse into into the living room i grew up in dad would put the vinyl record on the phonograph: JS Bach for solo cello, or Chopin waltzes and i would swirl, hop, jump, and leap using various end tables to create a ballet barre i remember mostly being alone after dad would put the record on i remember not suffering from loneliness -- it never had a place to lodge in my heart most good art unravels from a disciplined start how happy i was to become the music spinning...through pirouette, and chine' turns-- always grinning kate lamberg (c) '19   the dancers, by Matisse'

five fifty five a.m. sun rises in the east, while we steep in whisper pink

wood blocks, iron bell, silence follows sound in buddha hall at five am haiku and photo~katyajo '19