Thursday, March 31, 2011

Water messenger, Dr. Masaru Emoto

Dr. Emoto's Request for Assisting Japan:
Below is a special message from renowned Japanese Scientist Dr. Masaru Emoto who brought attention to the power of thought/prayer on water crystals. He has a special request for assistance tomorrow noon...

"To All People Around the World,

Please send your prayers of love and gratitude to water at the nuclear plants in Fukushima, Japan.
By the massive earthquakes of Magnitude 9 and surreal massive tsunamis, more than 10,000 people are still missing…even now… It has been 16 days already since the disaster happened. What makes it worse is that water at the reactors of Fukushima Nuclear Plants started to leak, and it’s contaminating the ocean, air and water molecules of the surrounding areas. 
Human wisdom has not been able to do much to solve the problem, but we are only trying to cool down the anger of radioactive materials in the reactors by discharging water to them.
Is there really nothing else to do?
I think there is. During over twenty year research of hado measuring and water crystal photographic technology, I have been witnessing that water can turn positive when it receives pure vibration of human prayer no matter how far away it is.

The energy formula of Albert Einstein, E=MC2 really means that Energy = number of people and the square of people’s consciousness. 

Now is the time to understand the true meaning. Let us all join the prayer ceremony as fellow citizens of the planet earth.  I would like to ask all people, not just in Japan, but all around the world to please help us to find a way out the crisis of this planet. 

The prayer procedure is as follows...

Name of ceremony:
“Let’s send our thoughts of love and gratitude to all water in the nuclear plants in Fukushima”

Day and Time:
March 31st, 2011 (Thursday)
12:00 noon in each time zone

Please say the following phrase:

“The water of Fukushima Nuclear Plant, we are sorry to make you suffer.  Please forgive us.  We thank you, and we love you.”  Please say it aloud or in your mind. 

Repeat it three times as you put your hands together in 

a prayer position. Please offer your sincere prayer.

Thank you very much from my heart."

Masaru Emoto
Messenger of Water

                                                                  Take a small boat 
                                                                  down the river, fish 
                                                                  in the rain, cherish
                                                                  the green moss, love 
                                                                  the waters that offer us 
                                                                  their purity; love
                                                                  the waters. 


Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Book Matters - MANY AS ONE

For a number of reasons, I've decided to keep this blog for my personal musings and to create a dedicated blog for MANY AS ONE - Artwork for Christchurch - - -

Please click on this logo to visit the new site - thanks.

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Tuesday Poem - Scriptorium

for Melissa Green

The knot in your old oak table pulses in synch with the lighthouse
storm warnings; Cato – draped like night around your neck – smells
of salt water, gold leaf, barnacles, the blunt-sharp rocks of proximity

and distance. He purrs in metronomic lighthouse time. The tip
of your fountain pen dips into black ink, shakes off the dark, ignites
a constellation of stars on the page. “I always write,” you say, “on yellow

paper; let it be as close to ochre as anyone can find, in honour of Lascaux’s hooves,
Nuri’s song lines, Altamira’s bison thundering; yellow paper, with dark blue 
veins in the page to stop me trembling; ancient tributaries mapping my way.”


Away now from that ancient shipwreck of a house, that living catacomb – the unsafe
ark - words fly from your pen; those not already here, climb your apartment
steps, find their way in. Daily they come and never leave  - always with you

and life in mind. Like the torches that illuminated the first cave paintings
they peel back the shadows: inside the page, lanterns are waiting to be lit;
the vaulted ceilings of Medieval churches; fresco figures beckoning.

Lovers meet at dawn. In silence they greet each other’s deep, 
forbidden places. “I see,” you say. “I see,” I say. Your old oak table 
has the presence of an altar, the rounded belly and arched back 

of a much-loved cave. It’s a secret and a sacred stage. 
The tea in our cups not tea at all, but terracotta rain
gathered in a downpour, shot through with molten gold. 

CB - 14 May 2010/24 March 2011

To be dazzled, humbled, grounded, uplifted; inspired, encouraged and transported, 
visit Melissa's blog,  Vesper Sparrow's Nest. . .

For more Tuesday Poems, please click on the quill. 
This week's editor is NZ poet, Orchid with a poem by Canadian, Stephen Bett.

* * * * *

new NEWS new NEWS new NEWS new NEWS

I urge you to pop over to Rachel van Blankenship's blog where you can listen to her spellbinding reading of her poem - TWO BODIES

MoA update

Muses - Timothy Cahill (USA)
Digital print on archival rag paper from original scanned negative
8 x 12 inches (approx. 200 x 300MM)
Signed limited edition

UPDATE: Donations and new artworks are still coming in for the Christchurch earthquake fundMuses has been generously put forward by US photographer, writer and director of The Center for Documentary ArtsTimothy Cahill.  I have long drawn (and been drawn to) spaces uncannily like the cloister of this old Cuban church. You will recognize one such drawing in Scriptorium - A poem for Melissa Green - above. Of his Muses image, Timothy writes, 'The photograph was taken in February 2000 during intermission of a concert in the chapel of Iglesia del Espiritu Santo, the oldest church in Havana, Cuba, built in 1632. The musicians, all under age 21, had no backstage; they congregated with their instruments in one of the chapel transepts until the program resumed."

I've made a number of drawings over the years that allude to the space and figures captured in this photograph. I no longer know which came first - the church, the photograph or the drawings; one of those unfolding mysteries I am content to live with. . . 

(1) Return - charcoal & pastel on paper - CB
(2) Reunion charcoal & pastel on paper - CB
(3) After All This Time - brooch; chinagraph pencil & liquin with sterling silver - CB

Monday, March 28, 2011


I was a few steps behind myself for most of last week - and late with the latest MANY AS ONE announcement. . .  apologies. Four names were drawn  as usual, so we have two happy pairings. 

Rob West's collograph Forest will be going to a Dunedin family and Kari Morseth's Silkworm Ring was drawn by an Otago peninsula artist. Congrats and thanks to all. 

I've reformatted the MANY AS ONE page - hopefully it will hold its shape/behave better this time.  New works are being regularly listed, the most recent being a pair of books by Dunedin writer Maxine Alterio and a compelling black and white photograph titled Muses by Timothy Cahill. I will post more on Muses tomorrow. 


Oh - whoop, pang - this evening Tomas flies to Northern climes to embark on Life's next big adventure. He will make his way from Heathrow to London tomorrow, then catch a train to Kent where my parents will be at the station to welcome him. Meantime, those of us seeing him off at Dunedin's endearingly rural International airport (you can catch the whiff of fertile earth from 30 000 ft, have your breath taken away by the snow-capped Southern Alps, our brooding harbour and volcanic peninsula; wave at cows, sheep and tractors as you fly in or out?). . . those of us seeing Tomas off will have our hearts in silk hammocks.  

At times like these, we must become what my writer friend Emma Neale refers to as Iron Marshmallows. 

That's all for now. . . I'm off to light a grove of candles and cook up nutty, cinnamon-y oats for my daughter and I for breakfast.  Love, IM xo 

Saturday, March 26, 2011

When the moment opens, answer

This coming Monday night, Tomas - my youngest - will be boarding a plane to the UK. His anticipation is palpable. For him, this flight is a movement towards, rather than away. A double Sagittarian, he was born to travel, ponder, seek, research, teach, touch, learn. . . He's living his passion, preparing to enroll for post-grad. study in Philosophy and Finance (esp. the Philosophy of Finance) at Cambridge University. Seeing him onto the plane will be one of those 'thrill/pang' moments with which we are all so familiar. . .  a fierce embrace/deep release moment in which the heart will be called to open wider. Further. More. 

It's the middle of the night here. I'd ordinarily be sleeping at this hour, but a storm woke me (rain first tickling then thrumming on my studio's corrugated iron roof), so I've been rustling through old iPhoto albums and emails in search of I'm not sure what, but very likely because I needed to come upon this again 

". . . May your hands weather with grace. May your fingers smell good. May chill on your arms keep you alive to your skin as much as warmth might do. May you grieve when you need to and know your own lacks, with matter-of-fact awareness, like you know the landscape of leaving where you sleep to begin the day. Leave the sleep. Begin the day. Offer things. Work. Build. Step toward others. Take a lean and a fall as a chance to spin on the floor on your back. Gather your courage. Make beautiful meals. Know your gifts and delight in them with specific, attentive vigor. Shovel. Pedal. Cruise. Oh, my darlings and others, listen as if you mean it, as if it matters, as if that act, in itself, were consuming and a kind of completion. When the moment opens, answer. The toilet might be running again in the other room. Get up, shake the handle and keep going. If the water goes quiet, there will still be ticking. We are our ordinary lives, and they have such depths and textures. We brush against the nap in relationship, or we're pressed to the plush, or something is jabbing, the plastic stem of an old tag, a broken zipper, but we dress in the fabrics of the lives near ours, however we bring them near. Such clothes. Such colors. . . "

Susan Stinson (visit Susan's website here and her blog here.)

(     (    (   (   (   (  (  ( ( ( ( O )  )  )  )  ) ) ) ) ) ) )) O ((((( O ))))) O (( ( ( ( ( ( ( (  (  (  ( O ) ) ) )  )   )   )   )    )    ) 

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Tuesday Poem - Wondering










CB - December 1999

I'm not entirely sure where this 'thought thread' came from nor what it's about - any ideas welcome. . . !

For more Tuesday Poems, please click on the quill. 


In Sunday's draw, Angela Burn's oil sketch Remnants - boat form, Moeraki was paired with a Dunedin writer/reader - many thanks to you both (I'll be sending you an e- later today. . . ; ). 

The next draw will be tomorrow - Wednesday 23 March 2011

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Carefully wash

Outside, the full moon.

Inside, my daughter, The Little Prince, lamplight and me.

"'It's a question of discipline,' the little prince informed me later on. 'When you finish washing and dressing each morning, you must carefully wash and dress your planet. . . '" 

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry - The Little Prince  

And do read this beautiful piece - Moonlight, Dog, Bell - by Mark Doty.  

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Wed nes day

(It still is in the Northern Hemisphere. . .) 

Like so many of you, I have felt stunned into silence - wordlessness - lately. I've not been able to find words - 'right' words, 'relevant' words, 'resonant' words. Thankfully, one of the gifts of living in community is that sooner or later, some amongst find a way to articulate in writing what the rest of us are feeling but cannot yet speak. Antares Cryptos & Angella - thank you. And last night, Penelope - whose blog The Intertidal Zone will be known to many of you - found her voice (and, by proxy, ours?) and penned Dawn breaks - - - 

"Venus hangs fat and gold. The old ring-barked sycamore gleams white under a pale blue sky. Leaves fidget in the first breeze. I sit on a cushion and light a candle in the window where a fine-limbed spider makes delicate purchase, trying to climb the glass. The garden, the spider and the star are reassuring, each in its own way, steadfastly doing what its species does: living and dying, web-making, burning bright.

Reassuring because I feel increasingly uncertain what’s required of me on a planet that’s quivering with its own potency and undermining centuries-old assumptions about our place upon it. . ." 

To continue reading Penelope's thoughtful reflection, click here.


Last night, two sets of names & artworks were drawn in our MANY AS ONE Christchurch appeal - All Directions Lead Home by Kate Alterio will soon be on its way to a writer/ reader in South Portland, Main and my small ink drawing Many Islands has been matched to a reader in La Jolla, San Diego.  Warmest thanks, all. 


Tuesday, March 15, 2011


A new artwork has been donated to the MANY AS ONE stockroom - this sterling silver Snowflake Pendant 'All Directions Lead Home' by Wellington jeweler, Kate Alterio. This piece is from Kate's 2009 series titled 'The snow falls, each flake in its appropriate place.'

All Directions Lead Home - KATE ALTERIO (NZ)
Snowflake pendant 2009
Sterling silver & enamel paint

Tomorrow is Wednesday which means there'll be a draw & accompanying announcement before the day is up. I'm going to need your help to keep the momentum going; artworks are continuing to come in from near and far, so please keep word about this small fund-raising effort circulating? Together we have raised $1355.00 so far. . . 

Thank you for your beautiful snowflake pendant, beautiful Kate.