painting

There is the physical act of gathering the names. From my email, and FB posts, and forum on Glow. I gather and write them out, with real names and real prayers...For this mother in memory of her son. For that mother in memory of her daughter. 

I light a candle, and sage. Sage the space, and computer, and all of you written on paper. I then select the stones for my grid. Heart chakra stones of pink quartz and green aventurine, some chalcedony, and the Apache tears for grief, hematite and garnet for grounding. I envision the geometric pattern and align them, connecting them with a selenite wand, and activating it with my intentions. Healing, love, comfort, ease, grief, connection. Connect. Heart connection. And then I write out the prayer. It changes every time, but the message is the same.

May you be at peace,

May your heart be open,

May you awaken to the light of your true nature,

May you be healed,

May you be a source of healing for all sentient beings,

May you feel safe,

May you feel happy,

May you feel healthy,

May you be at ease,

May you feel my love and the love of the Divine in all, through all, and for all.

Then I pray and meditate. Sometimes for a little, sometimes for a long time. This one was for about twenty minutes. Breathing in suffering. Breathing out love.

I have given so many jizos away, I sometimes think there is no babylost person left without one. But people join this community every minute of every day. There is not enough meditation to soothe all the hurts, but I keep sitting.

Then I paint and paint and paint, and drink a glass of water, then paint. When their faces come, I smile sometimes.

Who are you? Whose baby do you hide in your sleeve? Tell Lucia that I love her.

Yesterday, I received my Reiki I attunement to go along with my schooling, which is bodywork. But Reiki cleanses the aura, blesses artwork, and I Reiki'ed the painting today. I could see the light in my mind's eye washing over the paintings. My hands created this work, your babies inspired it. I will package them up and ship them off. They were never mine, but they will go into the world, carry this message that  we grieve together.

UPDATED: Requests for paintings are now closed. I do large jizo sittings twice a year--July and around Lucia's birthday in December and January. You are always welcome to purchase a jizo in my Etsy shop, or wait until I do the next sitting. Thank you for understanding.

interview

Archangel Azrael, the angel of grief . Watercolor, 4"x6", 2012.

When Lindsay over at Murmur of Wings asked me to answer a few questions about my art, my heart center just opened up, swallowed the time and length it took. Grief and art and my spiritual journey...wow. Apparently, I am very wordy about it. But I am passionate about the ways in which grief opened me up to release self-doubt and just go for art, and I want to inspire other grieving people (not just babylost, but anyone suffering from grief of any kind) to allow grief to be that starting point of compassion, and release, and connection. So, go on over to Murmur of Wings, and read my interview. If you leave a comment, you can win a mizuko jizo altar painting. And if you are really interested in amazing jewelry, check out her Etsy shop the Gypsy Rebel. Personally, I wear a piece of Lindsay's jewelry every day of my life. I actually created a few with her which are absolutely amazing. Anyway, all in all, she's an amazing person to connect to, and leave a comment to introduce yourself, and win some art. YAY!

forgiveness and remembrance

The shop smells of Japanese incense. There are chakra crystals and handblocked fabric bags made in Tibet by a women's collective. There are angels in resin for a buck, magical rocks, and pyramids, and in the middle of lavender eye pillows, I see a smiling praying jizo statue for their garden. A big jizo. It is reasonably priced, and I imagine the red bib I will sew for him. He looks like one of my paintings. I ask the beautiful woman with long flowing scarves in August, and almost no shoes about the statues around her shop. There are jizos all around this place. I ask her if she has more. I want to see them all, and she leads me around the shop, showing me Buddhas, and jizos, and Hoteis. And the first jizo is the best. He is mine.

As we stop, I reach for him, turning up to heaven, hands in prayer position, smiling. The clerk touches my wrist where her name is written on my body. It is a sensual gesture, one of compassion. The touch of a stranger feels electric. Her finger rests on my pulse. It quickens.

What does that say?

Lucia.

Is that your name?

No, it is my daughter's name.

It's beautiful. How old is she?

Actually, she died.

How old was she when she passed?

At birth. She was just being born.

Our eyes meet. It is kind of true, I am trying to communicate. No, it is true. She didn't have an age. She would have been born soon. She died just before she was born, but she was still a baby. Stillborn sounds like miscarriage to strangers. And miscarriage is also difficult and physical and hard and not to be dismissed, if you don't want it dismissed, but those words, stillbirth, miscarriage, pregnancy loss open dismissal and distance from the fact that I gave birth to my six pound baby. Lucia looked like me, and I had to leave her in the hospital for an autopsy, then cremation. So, I said she died at birth. It's not a lie, really. What I really want to say is that I pushed her out of my vagina. She was limp and gray, and weighed more than my neighbor's living baby. Her eyes were bruised and the skin torn. I kissed her anyway, and had to push her little tongue back in her mouth so she would look more alive, because it was hard to see her dead. After I held her for a few hours, she grew cold. I couldn't bear it. I wanted more blankets to cover her, to warm her.

I'm sorry. 

Thank you.

Do you have other children?

Yes. A two year old and a five year old. But Lucia is why I want the jizo, because jizos protect babies that die, and guide them into the next life. I paint them. Constantly paint them.

Wow, really? 

Yes. I paint them for other people all over the world and for myself. It is a ritual of forgiveness and remembrance.

She stared at me, tears welling. And then she hugged me. The clerk in the metaphysical store in a cluster of other stores held me. She said there was a light in me. And I could feel the darkness bubbling under the light. The dark is so overwhelming, I want to tell her, that all you can do is light stuff or it would consume us all. Even you, even your light, gauzey fabrics.


I kneel in front of the jizo I placed under her tree, next to the stepping stones we made for our two babies.

I'm sorry you died in me,I say.

There is no answer.

I'm sorry you died in me, I say again.

I chose to die like that, Mama. 
You did?
You chose it too.
I'm sorry.
Don't apologize to me, Mama. I had a good life.

I light another stick of incense and jam it into the ground.

I'm sorry your baby died in you, Angie.
It's not okay, Angie. I'm not sure I forgive you.
I know, Angie.
But keep apologizing, Ang, I think it might be working.

I perform a ritual of forgiveness. It involves nothing selfless. It is all about me being forgiven. It is empty and dark and sad, and as I walk through it, I am come out the other side full and light and contented.

I think about the life I made out of her death. It involves writing and painting and going to metaphysical stores and letting go. I let go of friends. I let go of expectation. I let go of the future. I let go of my tears. I let go of naiveté. I let go of my baby. I let go of the darkness to embrace something dark in me. I let go of anger. I let go.

+++

Today, I was over at Glow in the Woods writing about this thing that happened to me a few years ago. It was something I never talked about, or if I did, only privately to Jess or my husband, I think. I was embarrassed about it, actually, which sounds weird considering the emo shit I have owned on this blog, but still, you know, there once was a girl on the train and I loved her for a few minutes.

kindness day

The yoga was amazing in its ordinariness. I didn't cry. I didn't fall on the floor in a puddle, or talk about Lucia incessantly, or lash out in anger at all of yoginis. I just took the effin' class and it was lovely. It was very gentle, so I also felt fit enough for it, which was a bonus. The instructor never said the word grief, which felt odd for a class with the title Grief and Healing through Yoga, but you know, I liked what she had to say. She said we live in the negative programming of the story line. If we can be curious and feel it, it will change the grief. I liked that. It reminded me of that discussion on self-compassion I heard a few months ago.

She said the word heal and I didn't cringe or grow hot with anger. Heal. It feels okay to sit cross-legged with the concept of healing. I went back to another class on Wednesday. I didn't want to break the momentum and it was lovely. Grateful to this community for the love and support, and just the general acceptance at anything that troubles us. You are just there abiding, supporting, encouraging. Thank you.

Tomorrow is the MISS Foundation's Kindness Project Day. The idea of the day is to do something kind for someone in your baby's name as a way to carry his or her legacy. (Go visit the website to print out cards to leave at the scene of the kindness, and also RSVP on Facebook, if you can. These kindnesses are beautiful to read about.) Last year, I painted 4" x 6" mizuko jizo altar paintings for anyone who asked for one.

I think I did about 28. I am doing that again this year. You can comment on this post to request one, or on my Etsy shop's FB page (you can just become a fan), or on my personal FB page, or just shoot me an email at uberangie(at)gmail(dot)com. Just make sure you say something like, "I would like a painting in honor of my baby."* If you leave the baby's name, I am doing a crystal blessing grid in honor of all the babies I am painting for this year. Kicking off the day with a ritual in honor of grieving parents, then a tonglen meditation during which I will paint in silent meditation. I am also cutting off all email, phone and technology for the day. I am going to try to do a day of silent meditation and fasting this year. This is an exercise I have never tried and I am going to be in my house, so with babies and husband, it might not succeed. I think it is important, though. I will be painting on Saturday, July 28, in case you are trying to reach me, or trying to play Draw Something.

I have an idea of how many paintings I can handle, so I might close down these comments if it is too overwhelming. But for now, you can request one. You also need to send me your address, obviously, if I do not have it already.

Here is the listing  for a mizuko jizo painting from my Etsy site. I usually sell them for $25/painting, so I am including shipping, and a description of mizuko jizo. The first time I wrote about mizuko jizo was 2009 when I began painting them as part of my daily remembrance ritual for Lucia. It now comes up on the third listing for mizuko jizo on Google. That is amazing to me. I connected with so many women and men with my mizuko kuyo. It is humbling and amazing. I know that this life I live now, surrounded by meditation and healing is the life I was meant to live. Beyond giving me a place to direct my grief energy, painting mizuko jizo has become a way for me to honor all the suffering in this community and all the babies I now mourn.

I will probably write a bunch of overwrought posts about my experience, but until then, much love to you all. xo

*If you have one, you can still request another. Just know that.

about my artwork.

Today, I am honored to be guest posting over at Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope for their January create. heal inspire. series on creativity and grief. January is International Creativity Month. I am also giving away a mizuko jizo painting over there. So go over there. Comment. Win something. Actually, check out the whole series, because it is beautifully done, like everything at FOL/FOH. Beryl has done an amazing job organizing this month of creative mamas.

+++

Now, a few words about my art in general. A few weeks ago, I mentioned closing my Etsy Shop so I can focus on my writing. I said it in this general, oh-maybe-soon-I-will way. In lieu of a few requests and comments from people, I thought I would take a few weeks before closing shop to offer custom work to grieving people as well as sell the work I have around the studio. I will be open to do custom mizuko jizo paintings for the next two weeks. I am aiming to be done around Valentine's Day, but will stay open longer if I get a ton of requests. I am putting aside writing to offer this to the grieving parents that I love, because I noticed a few parents favorited my shop on Etsy and the custom listing, and I didn't want you to be surprised if you went back and the gypsy caravan has packed up and the carnival left town.

Mizuko jizos hanging across my studio
for Intl Kindness Project Day

I have explained what mizuko jizos are on this blog before, and tonglen meditation. My painting process is part of my spiritual practice, as many of you know. Tonglen mediation is a meditation where you connect with suffering--your own suffering and the suffering of others. You breathe in the suffering, and breath out relief, happiness, joy, compassion to the suffering. The idea is to carry the burden, lessen others suffering. It is slightly oppressive and uncomfortable to carry suffering, to feel pain of others' situations and grief, but also very healing. In the end, it helps you become comfortable around suffering and dissipate the fear of your own suffering. Because I lost a child, I tap into the early grief energy, the rawness of it, and touch that. When I do custom work, I focus on that individual family, or mother/father, and send a kind of grounding to the family. I also keep that child's name as a mantra in my mind, as well as Lucy's name. Then I paint, in a quiet studio, alone, with a candle for the babies and incense. When I do a large, general painting session, I meditate for grieving parents as a general group. And paint many paintings at the same time.

Greeting cards after a tonglen session..

I have been doing this type of meditation painting for three years now. Well, almost three years. After Lucia's death. Everything converged for me in the late spring after her death when I began painting mizuko jizo for my own Lucia's mizuko kuyo, or ritual for remembrance. Around the same time, I saw my Buddhist therapist who was helping me relearn meditation after her death. I was having trouble sitting still, and he gave me some amazing meditation techniques. It was during one of our meditation sessions that he taught me tonglen, and said that my connecting with other women on-line sounded like tonglen. I had never heard of it, and was intrigued. Helping others always helped me cope with suffering. I bought Pema Chodron's Good Medicine which is an explanation of tonglen.(Here is a quick article that explains it quite nicely.) In another session, the same therapist suggested that I think of painting as my daily meditation. He said that it is a strong legacy in Buddhist tradition to have artists who use painting as a type of working meditation.

My paintings have been integral to my daily life, just as meditation has been. To let it go feels scary and important. For me, the daily Etsy demand is very low. But when it comes, it requires me to drop my current deadlines and work, then focus on painting. Particularly because the payment is up front, so I feel I must meet the two day turnaround I promise. And yet, I have to say, painting for grieving parents and grandparents has opened up a new, beautiful, spiritual world to me, and gave me a spiritual grounding and center that felt like the missing link in my life for a long long time before Lucia's death. I am forever indebted to the parents who trust me with their babies, and allow me to paint for them.

Painting, before my studio.
With bangs and pregnant with Thor.
Fall, 2009.

AND so, for the next two to three weeks, I will focus on painting, as I close this chapter, FOR NOW. I know I will continue painting, and I may paint again on Etsy after that, but I just want to set it aside for now. So, I have some paintings (4"x6" watercolors, and 5"x7" watercolor greeting cards, perfect for babylost friends for birthdays, sympathy cards or anytime cards) in my studio that I am selling for $15 a piece. Custom pieces are priced differently, and we can discuss prices. If you are interested in a custom piece, or a meditating mama, or another painting, please do not hesitate to contact me at uberangie(at)gmail(dot)com. We can work on something together for you. I also will be selling my acrylic pieces that appeared in the show five. in Lancaster, PA, this month.

From five.

I have decided that on July 27th, as part of MISS Foundation's International Kindness Project, I will do a large meditation session and paint 4"x 6" mizuko jizos to give away to grieving families. Last year, I painted 28 jizos for grieving families. I offer that through the comment section of this blog, the comment section at MISS Foundation, and on my Facebook page. (Angie Kenna Yingst.) That won't happen until July, though.


Thank you all for the support and love you have given to my painting and work. It has meant the world.

25 Days of Giveaways--Day 10

Welcome, Auckland, New Zealand!

And all the rest of the world. It is midnight on Day Ten in Auckland, even though it is 18 hours earlier in my neck of the woods. Tonight is also the Long Nights Moon, which is the full moon of December. It is an auspicious time for a giveaway, me thinks. I am so grateful for Tina at Living without Sophia and Ellie for hosting the 25 Days of Giveaways every year. I have been participating in this for the last few years, and always think it is an incredible way to bolster spirits and bring our community together. Plus, I just love giving shit away. I am opening this at midnight in Auckland and posting winners on Sunday. That gives you the 10th in your time zone to put in a comment to win.

This year, I am offering three giveaways. The first two are finished, original mizuko jizo bodhisattva paintings in acrylic. Both paintings were created specifically for this giveaway. I have been working more in acrylic this year and experimenting with some other media. The first painting is a joyous mizuko jizo painting in acrylic and oil crayon. The canvas is 12" x 24".

 The second painting giveaway was donated by someone who won one of my paintings in another giveaway on Creme de La Creme. She wanted to remain anonymous, but you all love and know her. She already has a painting of mine and wanted to use this opportunity to share my work with another person. And so, the second painting is also joyous mizuko jizo bodhisattva. It is significantly smaller, and the photograph crappier because I could only photograph it tonight. It is 5" x 7". Purple background. The purple is much gentler than the picture makes it appear. Both of these paintings are on canvas.

I am also going to use this post to tell you about some upcoming events. In the month of January, the Mulberry Art Studio in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, will host the art exhibit five. Stephanie Paige Cole, author of Still. and the founder of the Sweet Pea Project, is exhibiting the breathtaking and aching work that emerged after the her daughter Madeline was stillborn as well as some more recent work. In addition to Stephanie, I will be showing my recent acrylic paintings and reading my poetry at the artists' reception on January 15th from 1p to 4p. Other artists and poets in the show are Kara Jones, Joanne Cacciatore, Sherokee Ilse, Laura Seftel, Catherine Bayly, Carly Dudley, Janel Atlas and more. At the reception, I will be selling prints and postcards of the work featured in the show.

In addition, (Breathe deeply. Don't puke.) I will be selling copies of my newly pressed, self-published chapbook called Of This, We Will Not Speak. I am finally releasing these words and these works into the world after getting some published here and there, and trying to get others published for much too long. Half of the chapbook is my grief poetry and the other half is work written before that time. It also make a very reasonably priced Christmas gift at $9.95. It is only 27 pages of poetry. And so, because of this newly printed piece, I am offering a third giveaway. You can win a copy of my chapbook.

If you are interested in purchasing postcards, prints or chapbooks at the art reception on January 15th, twenty percent of the proceeds from the reception sales will be donated to the Sweet Pea Project. If you are in the area, please come by the show (and let me know in the comments below.) I would love to connect with each of you in person and if not there, then somewheres else, peoples.

This giveaway is open to anyone--babylost or not. The only way to enter is to leave a comment. Every year I ask people to choose which prize they want to receive, and this year is no different. In the comment section of this post, tell me which prize you would like to win. If you want to be in the running for more than one, that is totally cool. Leave a second comment with that prize too. I am going to cut up the comments, put them in different hats and choose them. I usually ask people to tell me something else about them, so I can get to know people. If you are a babylost mama or papa, tell me your child's birthday and/or loss day, so I can add it to my calendar. And for the personal aspect part of the comment, tell me one of three things: 1. what you feel your greatest strength is, 2. tell me the secret dream life you would have liked to live or are trying to live (spy, rock star, famous knitter) or 3. what book has been the most influential book of your life. If you are entering for more than one, you must answer a different question.

I am posting this today, which means you get thirty-six hours or something to leave a comment on this post.   Please remember that you can always purchase my work on my Etsy site. Or email me directly and we can work on something together. And my new poetry chapbook can be ordered on Amazon or on Create Space.