Year of yin: poised to strike

July had the texture of lightening before it strikes. A threat that promises to deliver destructive renewal. The currants firm against my skin taught around a fluttering breath. I am longing for a natural disaster or divine intervention. Nerves like live wires, cloying sticky hot clouds form around my mind as my eyes scan the horizon with lazer percision. Thunder clap looming in my throat as of yet silent. Still lazy in the heat I move slowly as tension rises. Restless & relentless; I am caught spinning lopsided while frictions momentum grinds down the whirligig propulsion as I begin to gravitate towards eternal stillness.

I am gathering my energy to strike out in exacting devotion.

Quiet destruction of idol gods feared by lazy minds. A creative out burst followed by a rich down pour of inntuituve truth seeking.

Electrified battle scars ready for healing.


New Snapchat Performance & Patreon

Hello friends,

I am creating a new snapchat performance tonight at 7:00 pm cst you can tune in live or it will be available for 24 hrs on my story as usual.

snapchat code

add me: bethijay91

I am creating this piece based on 10 random snippets of text from books, old journals, song lyrics, and images that I found lying around my house. Interestingly some clear themes arose out of these totally random snippets about the nature of truth, sadness and disconnect from the external world, and what we hide from ourselves. It’s going to be another raw, real intimate performance that I can’t wait to share with you for this brief moment of time.

If you enjoy my blog and snapchat performances you might consider becoming a Patreon of my work.


Kindred Cities

Photo credit: Jennifer Sparrowhawk, Kindred Cities

Thank you Jennifer Sparrowhawk for having me on the Kindred Cities blog today. I had so much fun hanging out and taking such lovely photos. 
You can read my interview over on Kindred Cities here. I also recommend digging through the archives there are so many great portraits on there always an inspiration.

Photo credits: Jennifer Sparrowhawk, Kindred Cities


5x creative sparks


Written on the  Body by Giselle Noelle Morgan

A woman maps the emotional score of children as a path to connect her lonely heart.
A woman writes with indelible marker across the face of history busy looking the other way.
A woman unwraps the possibility of living between us.
A woman casts a spell to absolve her sisters suffering after decades of fear.
A woman sees a future of fierce compassion through the lens of reclamation of voice.
A woman collects the sparks she needs to light the flames that will consume her.


  1. ¬†Song of Seven: Biochoir via Erin Gee a phenomenally powerful piece still vibrating in my core. Erin Gee describes the piece and her process: “Since working with robots that make music effected by physiological markers of emotion, I started feeling a little lonely, so I composed a project for children’s choir and my own DIY Biosynths. Hardware synthesizers are a bit complex and particular though so I focused on the music and made the synths very simple biosonifications of emotional engagement for each child.Making this work I thought about how no one takes children’s emotions seriously: yet when we are young we are extremely sensitive and emotional. I wanted to highlight the large emotions of children while they also empathized with each other.
    The score for this work is graphic as well as traditional, hand-drawn on graph paper with markings where sounds are activated by counting heartbeats and sweat bursts rather than traditionally notated.
  2. UK Rapper/Poet/Artist asks “How Much Are They Paying You?” via The Creators Project
  3. Adrienne Rich on Lying, What “Truth” Really Means, and the Alchemy of Human Possibility via Brain Pickings – she so beautifully articulates one of my fundamental values in life & art
  4. Sexual Assault Cases Are Our Modern Day Witch Trials via Establishment and then days later this article surfaces as if to underline her point.
  5. These Haunting Photos Are a Tribute to Hysterical Women via Bust

Summer plans

My time is very precious to me, and I have less of it then I would like. As always there are more invitations, projects, and books to read then I could ever fit in the hours of a day, but now in particular I’m guarding it more carefully. I’m tired and going quietly mad. I crave time to create. I crave privacy. A private world away from city lights. It’s summertime and the green things are luscious & ripe bidding me hide myself in their dark foliage. Undressed in mysteries. I’m looking to spend less energy on spending my time. A conservation effort to save the wild things. My pen points exactly to what it wants. Exacting ink from the page as blood from my arm. Slick with sweat, brow crossed, double back, pen wet with lips parched of familiar voices. The city is buzzing and I am silent waiting for my time to strike. Clouds are forming around this creative peak. Obscured temporarily, you will hear my thunder approaching.


5x tea party of one

As Alice waddles home on her new found seeing legs, I too have landed securely back in the familiar belly of daily life. Still reverberating with thoughts, questions, ideas, and love stirred at the lab, I am holding space for the silence to echo back the most powerful chords touched. In anticipation for holding space, and some oblique strategizing¬† in the boreal forest, I’ve gathered some things that have come to my attention in the last week to be added to the simmering aesthetic melding pot.


  1. Tinder via Shane Koyczan
  2. Life Hacks of the Poor and Aimless via Laurie Penny
  3. Viper’s Nest via Kaia Kater
  4. Empathy is Actually a Choice via The New York Times
  5. Leisure as the Basis for Culture: An Obscure German Phillosopher’s Timely 1948 Manifesto on Reclaiming our Human Dignity in a Culture of Workaholism via Brain Pickings, compliment with a brief word from Alan Watts on Work as Play

Emerging from the rabbit hole

I’m trying to save that piece of myself that doesn’t want to be saved. Every time I latch onto something I remember all the things I had to let go of to be here. This is what swimming through the ocean feels like. You are alone. Yet you are surrounded in every direction. Part of the largest body you will ever conceive of. Holding the only solid thing to ever support you. There you are. A blip on the map to nowhere in particular. No longer searching you bob, poised in the tension between all you can see above, and all you can see below, both unknowable, which way will you look? This is your holy land. Contained on the heart you carry in the psalm that you never learned to recite tracing back to your mothers heresey. A triason of devotion. To the unknown. A curious feeling of bleak unending fire lit unqunchable. Ask too many questions. Trust only the silence between faux answers fashioned after the times. We only know what we know already from there we guess what might lie beyond. Holding hands across the great divide. There is comfort in mutually agreed disorientation. We draw our own maps of the tides. This one turns us out of ourselves into unrecognizanle vessels of truth. This one draws us into our own mystery cinching day dreams along fault lines. The finger traces life lines snugly fit to my cradle of questions. The blood is in the unlearning the ticks that make a heart beat until we are finally still. Accept nothing. Be nothing. Practice meanwhile. That our hearts might freeze wide open like song birds on window sill in first cracks of spring. I’m alone in my thoughts as I undress myself after the spill. Ink blotched, hen scratched, eye ball disattached. The flowers had the look of flowers that are looked at. Even after all this time I am still myself, but perhaps more so than last I checked. Wilted as it is bloomed. The seed sprouts mind first and tastes expression last. Bitter sweet remembering. Gift yet to be unwrapped.


I wanted to write something about my time as a labbit in the One Yellow Rabbit summer intensive with Denise Clarke, but everytime I tried to sum it up words seem to fail me. So naturally I returned to the poetic impressionism that pours out of my heart in times of divine inspiration. Thank you to the rabbits, labbits, and generous hearts that made this experience so memorable. I carry each of your cadouri in my heart.