Kate Lamberg Center for Natural Healing and Creative Arts~

For all my dear friends, and relatives, Wishing you a most beautiful and fulfilling 2020, where miracles appear and dreams come true! The Center for natural Healing and Creative Arts is most grateful for those who have sought services over the past year. I am most excited to report new classes and retreats in the New Year. Music and poetry for healing~ a branch of Center for Natural Healing. Poets and musicians are sent to areas in the community: schools, recreation centers, and natural venues to share the beauty and healing inherent in the arts. Why don't you join us? Times and dates will be posted here as the interest grows. Again, my heartfelt New Year's greetings with all my love and gratitude, kate december 31, '19

a haiku and four duets not too far in the distance sits all the garden tools needed for next spring's flowers the garden tools rest both beneath and above the thin layers of winter snow, impossible to know what they're thinking the immediacy of action expresses a finality of laziness dance as both art and social commentary attempts to get folks off the couch in the course of a single song, a uniting energy drapes the world- in this instant no one can be made to feel wrong the divisive cutting of our planet ruptures relationships and all living things the healing begins with a single garden tool, a forgiving earth

Ushas for healing The maple tree shakes a little from the north easterlies. Thankfully, the wind has died down considerably since yesterday. At times the tree reaches out, and scrapes her lithe long dancer's branches against the rough red brick building. This is when I wake to the howling wind, and the occasional scraping of branches. One hour before sunrise, the Ushas guard the house with persistence and grace. Ushas are the guardian spirit of the pre-dawn hours. Fears and disturbances which wake the inhabitants of the red brick building shall be received into the acceptance of the forgiving Ushas-- with their kind layers of blue green silver gossamer. The human fears will then be transformed into tree songs, to incise the air at sunrise. These 'Tree Songs' offer a more positive countenance to all who wake to the sun.

There was Nothing on the radio at the ungodly hour of 5 am. She put some warm clothes on, and stepped out into the chilled December air. Suddenly, the natural cacophonic music of seven black birds was heard overhead . The music pierced the air with a sudden rush of kindness, a true soul connection. The connection dissolved any uncertainties (like tears in the earth) of silence's attempt to create a kind of jailhouse blues riff-- 'too early in the morning to call anyone.' Freedom from being weighed down with ill-fitting thoughts- reinvigorates the grey dying swan sarabande lightens her dancing feet with a more natural fire engine red ruddy glow one of understanding, one we can all sing and dance to- a spot light in the wings seems to know

duets The maple tree at dawn coated in freezing rain shone like a million starry eyes once again. It was too dark to get a clear photograph. She would wait until after the sun rose to try again. Praying the temperatures would 'hold steady', she danced and hummed the Aretha Franklin song. Now, the sun is up on a purely gray day. The shiny glints of diamond wonder are gone. Now just a short term memory, left in neural bundles-- to be ignited again by looking at trees, dancing in a freezing winter wind.

a solstice sambha waking to cold darkness, fringes of snow grasp trees, rocks, parked cars sky moves from coal black, to slate grey, to grey-white in the time it took to scribble thoughts for a song, to make black coffee, hot and strong to muse about the simple and true beauties of solstice unfolding in spirit--no I and you- as snow on pine fronds relaxes into--oneness wearing peace

awakening to sunday's cold darkness fringes of snow grasp trees, rocks, parked cars sky moves from coal black, to slate grey, to grey-white--in the time it took to scribble thoughts for a song, to make black coffee hot and strong to muse about the simple and true beauties of solstice unfolding in spirit--no I and you as snow on pine fronds relaxes into--oneness wearing peace