(above, jen and jack)

the stages of a broken spirit:

sad.
angry.
sad again.
angry again.
really sad.
really really really sad.

sick of being sad.
sick of being mad.

{a shift}

slight movement.
red lipstick.
a dinner party, twinkle lights,
a hookah and some naked body painting.

for a moment being stuck
moves to joy.

and joy wants to be happy again.

then,
the music plays.

and the next step is clear.

its time to dance.

i have wanted to paint words/poetry on people and photograph them for about oh ….8, 9 years now? but i was shy to ask people, and new to photography back then and really, um, who did i think i was to ask folks to strip down and let me make art on their bodies?

(turns out it was not that hard. but more on that later.)

i suppose it started with myself. i had a new friend (cough cough) for a bit and it somehow became our thing to write messages on our bodies and photograph it for each other. it was totally silly, yet lit this creative fire in me that i thought was long gone. not to mention my billion body issues (yes i struggle struggle struggle) seemed to calm down ever so slightly. very slowly i started to see myself in different way. not perfect, not fat or skinny, pretty or ugly, just……me.

(above “tragic” she was here and he was there)

then allison and i started our “double trouble” series.
(allison does all the amazing processing, by the way)

this side by side photo project was hatched from our many hilarious converstaions about love, sex, and all of that that is in between. it was also a unique way to celebrate our friendship (because allison unfortunately lives on the opposite side of the country) and bring light and humor to the sometimes painful but very real issues we women deal with. all of my favorite things began to roll into one-connection, empowerment, humor, words, dress-up, friendship, and creativity.

then friends began to ask me if i would paint them. or if someone was going through a hard break-up i would say, “let me nymph you out on a photoshoot!”

(above, love session with a dear old friend, taken with photobooth on my mac when my card filled up)

(my friend lori who makes the most rad jewelry at lilygirl.)

it turns out that painting people is not so different than painting rocks. except people wiggle a little more and offer me cocktails while i do it.

i feel really inspired and HONORED seeing women step into themselves and have fun with their sexuality instead of beating it to a pulp. i encourage all you out there-you who feels that she lost her something something, you who is sick of comparing…you who wants to express yourself in a new way…just play. think costume and fun jewels. get some bright colored paint and get a friend to come over with a bottle of pink champagne.

don’t wait for the magic to show up.
its never to late to
get out of your comfort zone and see what happens.

i double dog dare ya.
(and send me the pics at mccabe@dancingmermaid.com)

paint on….

affirmation for the day.

and yet i keep forgetting.

we thought
that if we mashed my hurt
with your hurt

they would somehow counteract
each other
and some kind of miracle would it occur.

(it didn’t)

we did, however make
a big bloody mess

and now not we are not friends
anymore.

i wonder if we just maybe
loved the sad holes in each
other
that mirrored our own.

we were comfort.
some may say soul twins
or kindreds

but those just feel like
fancy words
that have nothing to do with us.

i have done way more soul-searching
(there i go again with the fancy words)

more than i would have liked
to.

but then again, i walked into
this fire knowingly.
like i have done before you
and i have done after you.

firewalker
or fucking idiot?

its hard to tell.

(maybe a little of both)

a friend sent me a quote about
sticking to your path

and the heart of the poem
was all about CLAIMING and examining
whatever path you have choosen.

i don’t think this path choose
me,
i choose it.

so yeah.
i like risk.
i like adventure.
i like the art of evolution.

and i can’t think of anything
i would change
if i got to go back in time
and set everything right.

i am a lover.
i choose love.

and i will choose it
again and again.

01 Life Is Life

{song life is life by noah and the whale}

i still believe in you.
you know,
you….

i don’t come here often anymore.
im not sure why, really.

maybe i am not so afraid
anymore
and spend more time outside living.

or maybe i am lazy or don’t feel as
creative as i used to.

probably its a little bit of everything.

there is so much i want to share
but one can only leak out so much life
on a little blog.

mostly, i have just been wondering where
the fuck i belong.

home keeps changing.

what was once a little cottage by the sea
with a boy and a cranky cat and surfboards, sandy sheets
sand-dollars and painted rocks

is now a room
where i can see the sea from the balcony
and a scrappy half blind black cat with a clipped ear
and no teeth.

none of it is bad or good
it just is kinda what is right now.

in the past year i have set up camp
in ireland, germany, italy, new mexico,
nags head, san francisco, arizona…

each place i go i feel a rush of
maybe this is home?
maybe this is where i belong.

the problem is not that i can’t find one perfect place
its that i can feel at home anywhere in a matter of minutes.
i’m not sure where i got this odd trait from
other than moving around abruptly as a kid

always being new and awkward,

kids adapt fast
and i suppose i never grew up.

i don’t think i believe in conventional homes
anymore
at least not for me.

there are no four walls that are going
to fill my heart up.
i love the idea of this of course

but there is something unsettling about
being locked in anywhere

especially when nothing is truly permanent.

i give away costume jewelry almost everytime
someone compliments something i have on
and i see the shock in their face
at the crazy stranger slipping off 5.00 rings
and placing them on their ring finger.
(if that finger is empty)

but im always getting new jewels
and it feels good to love something

and not be attached to it at the same time.

i think it would be fun to give it all
away before i go
and only die with a few dresses and maybe
a pretty pair of shoes

a good book and some love letters.

things don’t give me comfort
the way they used to.

people comfort me.
love comforts me.

home comforts me too.
even if my home
is in about 6 or 7 different places.

you will,
he says.

just for gods sake please
stop flinging yourself into
busy traffic…..

she was a wendy
and man did those lost boys stick
to her like molasses on a sunday morning breakfast.

she was their raw sugar,
uncrystallized,
a sweeter version of themselves
that was easier to digest
than their own runaway shadows.

she plucked them from the sea
one by one like a mermaid

licked the salt off their wounds
smoothed out their hair
and gave them turkey avocado sandwiches and red wine
to wash away the pain.

she crawled in the dank, bat infested caves
with them
on hands and knees
in a light blue nightie,

locked up their ugliest secrets
in the darkest part
of night.

and every now and then
she would wrap her
long legs around their waists
like a nymph set on fire
until the tears became sweat
and the sweat became release-

and for a brief moment they
became fresh and new,

hydrated and innocent.

and wendy,
really still a child herself-

unruffled by the worlds
cruelness,

flung herself onto
these pirate ships again and
again

net-free

and no matter how many times
she walked that plank

she leapt
with wild abandon
onto unstable ground.

and it was not that she did
not want to grow up herself,

she just wanted to grow up
on her own terms.

so
unable to relate to the world around her,

she adopted these lingering spirits
to mother back to life

all the while trying to
resasitate herself.

did it work?
did she have anything left
for herself in the end?

i don’t know.

but the possibility of greatness
and the naivety to loss

kept her flying
off to strange lands in the middle
of the night.

and that was something
she was not willing

to give up.

i find myself living in between a lot of questions
these days…
which leaves me a little uneasy.

i have always found comfort in lessons and answers.
if i know the why it gives me some kind of illusion of control.
understanding equals peace.

but what if i have a bunch of loose ends
floating around that are in no rush to be tied?
can i move on based on trust alone?

i admit there is a small part of all this is exciting to me.
all of a sudden there is a lot of room for movement and mystery.

it may be time for some big changes.
and a huge leap of faith.

(here i go again…)