BOO! Happy Halloween!

My Healing Art Jewelry on ETSY

I have been very busy of late stocking up my ETSY shop at http://MaureenTillman.etsy.com . I had not intended to create so many new pieces while in my temporary housing, but recently I have had requests to expand on my inspirational word jewelry. These requests were for pieces that presented words that could help in healing for women who are or have been facing challenges to their health, mind or spirit. 

As an artist who also loves to write, I have always been passionate about words. They have given me strength, hope, solace, comfort and inspiration in difficult times in my life. During those times I would write inspiring words on flat, smooth stones and carry them with me in my pocket throughout the day, sometimes running my thumb over the word when I needed strength. My jewelry is meant to uplift and renew every woman's indomitable spirit or inspire them in that same way. 

As a whole, my work is a collection of original one-of-a-kind mixed media collage artwork and jewelry. My work seeks to tell a story - someone's story, dreams, secrets - a narrative, a memoir, a confession, a fairy tale. It is my desire to draw the veil from what we conceal - from ourselves and others. I also wish to share the practice of mindfulness and sometimes even introduce a touch of whimsy to bring peace and joy into your life. 

A Letter in October by Ted Kooser

Dawn comes later and later now,
and I, who only a month ago
could sit with coffee every morning
watching the light walk down the hill
to the edge of the pond and place
a doe there, shyly drinking,

then see the light step out upon
the water, sowing reflections
to either side -- a garden
of trees that grew as if by magic --
now see no more than my face,
mirrored by darkness, pale and odd,

startled by time. While I slept,
night in its thick winter jacket
bridled the doe with a twist
of wet leaves and led her away,
then brought its black horse with harness
that creaked like a cricket, and turned

the water garden under. I woke,
and at the waiting window found
the curtains open to my open face;
beyond me, darkness. And I,
who only wished to keep looking out,
must now keep looking in.

The Cocoon by Robert Frost

As far as I can see this autumn haze
That spreading in the evening air both way,
Makes the new moon look anything but new,
And pours the elm-tree meadow full of blue,
Is all the smoke from one poor house alone
With but one chimney it can call its own;
So close it will not light an early light,
Keeping its life so close and out of sight
No one for hours has set a foot outdoors
So much as to take care of evening chores.
The inmates may be lonely women-folk.
I want to tell them that with all this smoke
They prudently are spinning their cocoon
And anchoring it to an earth and moon
From which no winter gale can hope to blow it,--
Spinning their own cocoon did they but know it.

The Beautiful Changes by Richard Wilbur

One wading a Fall meadow finds on all sides 
The Queen Anne's Lace lying like lilies
On water; it glides
So from the walker, it turns 
Dry grass to a lake, as the slightest shade of
you
Valleys my mind in fabulous blue Lucernes.

The beautiful changes as a forest is changed 
By a chameleon's tuning his skin to it;
As a mantis, arranged
On a green leaf, grows
Into it, makes the leaf leafier, and proves
Any greenness is deeper than anyone knows.

Your hands hold roses always in a way that 
says
They are not only yours; the beautiful changes
In such kind ways,
Wishing ever to sunder
Things and things' selves for a second finding,
to lose
For a moment all that it touches back to 
wonder.

My First Excursion in my New Home Town - Olbrich Botanical Gardens in Madison, Wisconsin

It was an exciting afternoon visiting the 16 acre Olbrich Botanical Gardens in Madison, Wisconsin this week. We focused specifically on the Bolz Conservatory, a 50 ft. high glass pyramid housing an extensive collection of tropical plants, birds and butterflies. It was like being transported to a lush distant rain forest. The plays of light and shadow along with the infinite show of shapes and colors delighted the photographer in me.

Dust by Sara Teasdale

When I went to look at what had long been hidden,
A jewel laid long ago in a secret place,
I trembled, for I thought to see its dark deep fire—
But only a pinch of dust blew up in my face.

I almost gave my life long ago for a thing
That has gone to dust now, stinging my eyes—
It is strange how often a heart must be broken
Before the years can make it wise.