Category Archives: Self Portrait
November, and I’ve dedicated myself to movement, art and meditation. This intent has brought me great blessings. Today three eagles flew over head talking to each other as they rode the wind. I hiked the Olympic Trail in Al Quaal Recreation area with my camera and with my MagicMan, Mike.
Earlier on Saturday I had taken a workshop that went over Donna Eden’s Energy Medicine techniques. The class was with Jennifer Silverston of Marquette and the class was held at the Marquette Arts and Cultural Center.
This week, as I create movement and new energy patterns in my life, I will be doing Yoga, QiGong, Energy medicine techniques and clearing more clutter from my home. I will also be working at the Zero Degrees Artist Gallery on Friday November 11th from 5-8pm and Saturday from 9-12pm. If you are local to the Marquette area I hope you will come in to the gallery to chat.
I’m looking forward to the coming week. I hope yours promises much healing and fulfillment, too!
Living Joyful! I started with a run at Blueberry Ridge on Sunday (5.4K) and picked blueberries. Yesterday, I rode my bike to do errands and get new books to read at the library for a total of 5.7 miles. Today ,Belly Dancing with Kate and I rode bike there with wonderful floral aromas all thru town and along the lakeshore for an additional 3.5 miles. Tomorrow is Yoga at Mukta with Lisa! Friday starts the Hiawatha Music Festival which last for 3 days. Each morning I will wake to Yoga and each night I will dance, dance, dance!
Getting in touch with my happy buddha, my hibernating bear, and my queen bee. Perhaps throwing in a touch of spider to weave more dream-webs and spin some tales. Yesterday, I spent the day sleeping sometimes acting like a hibernating bear helps you to forget the back pain. The snow blanketed the house and I finished reading “The Secret Lives of Bees” by Sue Monk Kid.
I have been awarded two weeks off work, although I may pick-up some administrative tasks and do some sub-teaching the next couple of days I will be spinning tales and hanging them in windows to catch dreams and move me out of my February Funk.
A friend gave me a hug in passing and asked if I had worked with metaphor at all. I am not sure I understand but what she was suggesting but it got me thinking of the imagery and animals coming to me recently. Sleeping like a hibernating bear and dreaming, tiny spiders on the walls, The bees (of the book I just finished) humming new songs. And then the fact that lots of this change is culminating on the Chinese New Year, the Year of the Tiger.
I feel a turning point.
I have some time, now to get past pain, and work with the stories unfolding in my heart.
Sites of Interest:
To me, images are like writing. A photo a piece of parchment on which cherished things are recorded. This image is from my Memorial Day trip to Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. The delicateness touched me. And, tonight, as I listen to Barack Obama, our Nation’s President talk about family and his job, I feel quieted. For now I see hope again after a somewhat dark day.
You see I was feeling down. Scared over money. Wanting so much.
But I was reminded by our President, my partner Mike, and Leon Katona, that I have so many reasons to be thankful and grateful.
Kim Nixon Okay, it’s time to list my gratitudes cause I was gettin’ a bit too f-in murky (feel free to add your gratitudes as comments).6:28pm
Kim Nixon at 6:30pm June 3
I am grateful for the greater range of motion in my shoulder. I am grateful for my sparkler. I’m grateful for the iris, lilac, apple blossom, and the sail boats headed out on Wednesdays. I’m grateful for the dinner invite on Tuesday (my daughter’s home).
Kim Nixon at 6:33pm June 3
Kim is grateful for her job, the people she gets to care for and their families.
Leon Katona at 6:36pm June 3
I’m thankful that I got to see your work at the DeVos the other day! AND that when I went to Peter White I picked up a copy of “Health and Happiness” and saw that you had an article in it!! =]
Kim Nixon at 6:38pm June 3
Kim is grateful for her ability to lose weight and her recent successes. And also for the leftovers in the fridge.
Kim Nixon at 7:53pm June 3
Holy crap–Leon you just made my day!! :-) There are two of my articles in H&H. Okay I cannot feel down on myself right now.
Leon Katona at 9:06pm June 3
I loved your self-image and healing article. I think it really shows that you’ve become more comfortable by submitting that piece. Really lovely work.
Kim Nixon at 10:12pm June 3
Okay…wow…it’s true so much is changing, has changed. Sometimes it is hard to remember even recent positive changes.
These are the shots I love to share, a combo of both my own and Mike’s. They give a glimpse into our lives that words and stories cannot share. Today was my birthday and where I have been suffering from serious seasonal disorder with symptoms complicated by stress and my own drive to change, today was calm. Like the hush of snow. The laughter over on the next hill. The slient flight of birds. My day was a gift.
Mike I am so blessed to share these moments with you. I think of how many times we are on the trail together, your ability to play, to appreciate the day, scene, moment (even in yet another snowstorm), and I know that you, too, are a gift.
My years with you are filled with magic. Your better than the icing on my 45th birthday cake, baby!
See the digi-captures of Kim on a snowtube taken by Mike at A Winter Journal.
This is an image of a rusty bolt hanging on the side of our barn-type garage at camp in National Mine. I always find inspiration in the left behind and forgotten, and camp definitely has a history. This land has been one of great sorrow and loss for many. Someone even lost their life here.
My history has been one of overcoming loss and obstacle, of making home where I go. But like the image, finding my edges and definitions has been a hazy process.
I tune-in at camp. It is an empathetic response to the person who could not completely throw away a holy card found in the barn (but had to get it out of the house?), to the whisper in the trees, to the thump of too-fast traffic hitting upheavals on the county road.
It is a listening.
What has been left behind and forgotten, yet draws us, that is magic. Picking up a camera give us permission to listen with our eyes. You don’t have to touch what you find. It can be a cautious step forward and a quick click.
In 2007, I had many goals as a mother, grandmother and artist. Growth in my loving relationship with Mike. Career. I discovered many aspects of myself. The above photo was taken with a disposable camera, Fuji 400 film. I was beginning to fall in love with image, shadow, light, time, age. The photo was taken in the backyard at Ramblin’ Rose Art Center in Mohawk Michigan. It was a trip that would play more into the development of my life as Artist than I would first give the trip credit for. Thanks Carol! Below are the 12 reflections for this Tuesday.
Making personal space for reflection let me know the pattern of my thoughts, tuned me into fears, and allowed me to see the world.
I feel better when walking on trail, spongy ground, breathing outdoor air.
I enjoy photography it allows me to say more than words.
I am beginning to feel like an artsy arrangement of springs left to weather.
Birth, maturity, growth, I am gifted through the eyes of all around me, daughter, grandson, mate…
I crave community, still.
Vines in the garden remind me of adventures and offshoots to the path, vignettes, poems.
I miss my mother, the first creator I was in awe of.
Crayons are still my favorite tool.
Music breathes life into sullen dark days.
Touch centers us all.
Don’t forget to check out KimNixon.com for more Inspiration!
I cannot imagine myself the independent
artist who wears easy flowing clothes and
struts with an air about her down
the 100 block of Washington Street.
I cannot feel like the eccentric grandmother,
graying hair, a copy of Yoga Journal,
drinking coffee and writing
poems at Dead River.
Healer, certainly not,
for today I lie broken in your arms.
Crippled. Trying to get over this part of me.
Any other day, I would be lakeside
meditating, a dance of martial arts
on rock near water, searching
for damselflies and waterfalls,
paying attention to my breathe.
Today, I lie torn, like
a garden after hail storm
a lupine beaten before seed pods formed
wondering if life can carry
I can only wrap my legs around
a small cherry tree with
third year growth rings,
attempt to feel rooted,
robins stealing fruit,
nest of starling chicks
gone after the storm,
conscious to the awful truth
humans do not mate for life.
copyright Kim Nixon 2007
Revision III., 10.29.2007
I used to be a Lakeshore Girl. Raised in Michigan, in the suburbs of Detroit, the first Great Lake I became accustomed to was Huron. Then my parents bought property in Northport, Michigan on Cathead Bay where I spent summers swimming in Lake Michigan. Eventually, with adulthood and family in tow, I moved to the Upper Peninsula and was blown away by Superior.
It was after my divorce that I became a river walker. Perhaps I was searching for The Source? But I think it was Song; each river has it’s own song just as each Great Lake has it’s rhythms and moods. In the Upper Peninsula, rivers are plentiful, waterfalls abound and as I walked I found places of solitude where standing on rock mid-river one can practice Tai Chi.
One day, I was at Canyon Falls on the way to Baraga, and I was dancing on rock, Tai Chi, QiGong. A woman stopped me on my return to the parking lot and asked if I had been praying. I suppose I was.
I like walking water. I like feeling flow and the current tugging at my feet and calves. I like the cold. The shock. The chance to feel alone and loose inhibitions. In the digital image posted here I am on The Dead, as we call it in Marquette. Depending where you are on The Dead, the mood or song changes. I had walked up river from the Tourist Park in search of a circle of worn down chairs among trees and where the circle has faded, I was walking with light and clouds. Butterflies. Plovers (perhaps?). Thistle. Yellow Primrose. Bleached logs now exposed. This area once dammed had flooded-out 3 years earlier. No longer did a basin of water exist–here the river had taken its course reformed, free, lazy.
I am thinking of the first river writers I read. Michael Delp, The Text of the River–a book on the Au Sable and the words Michael wrote inside the cover, “Kim–Go to the river wherever you can!” Or when I fell in love with Judith Minty’s, Yellow Dog Journal.
From Michael’s book:
“Your blood tells you first. Maybe, on a warm night in May, your blood changes its course, comes from somewhere beyond your body, from the ground, or from that spring you first saw years ago in the woods, water coming from an iron ring in a small clearing, and you looked…first in, and then, down into a perfect dark circle of water like an eye, a dark pupil, and you feel this water in your legs first, then sifting upward into your heart.”
The river changes you. Holds you.
I am reading river books. Editing river images. And I am being called, out to the banks.
For more information on this Free Write Fling.
Take me to the river and drop me in the water /Dip me in the river, drop me in the water/ Washing me down, washing me down.
It was a difficult week. An emotional week. Many new situtaions and new relvelations of self. I took this self-portrait on the Dead River upstream from the Marquette Tourist Park. I went out hiking with a migraine needing to detox and be washed anew.
Most of my life, I have been a lakeshore girl, having grown up on the beach. But it is the character and flow of a river that can bring me center, now. There are many layers of texture to a river each revealing something new, deeper, a slightly different reflection and perception as you turn over ideas. And there is the song you bring that flows into the song of the river as you walk, or fish, or sit on the bank. The Dead River has many songs, depending on where you approach.
This is a flood plain once contained that broke thru a dam and reformed it’s path. There is a lesson here for me on direction. And on healing.