tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39719266253637382812024-03-13T21:27:47.715-07:00LightShine Pine RidgeWalking in Love on the Pine Ridge ReservationKC Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04143052565379566551noreply@blogger.comBlogger119125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971926625363738281.post-26676259827840249262014-02-05T13:43:00.002-08:002014-02-05T13:43:45.371-08:00Rez Dogs...The Sweeps Begin...And That Is Not a Good Thing<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">Hello my friends.....On Monday the Oglala Sioux Tribe of the Pine Ridge Reservation will begin their bi-annual "sweep" of the Rez Villages. Stray dogs will be gathered up and killed. The recent maulings by </span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u-H2u6jv7go/UvKwIO4Xx3I/AAAAAAAABZo/oSX9lwGtsdM/s1600/kc+and+puppies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u-H2u6jv7go/UvKwIO4Xx3I/AAAAAAAABZo/oSX9lwGtsdM/s1600/kc+and+puppies.jpg" height="400" width="243" /></a></div>
packs and the suffering of the sta<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; display: inline; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">rving and injured strays (of which there are hundreds and hundreds) are prompting this action to take place earlier than usual. The tribe has reached out to us (and a couple of other rescues) and given us the ok to begin rounding up strays or litters of puppies now and ahead of them next week. We will be doing this with the help of some Lakota friends involved in our program. This is an effort on the tribe's part to save some of the dogs...although many will be killed. This is not a post to encourage comments on the killing of dogs on the Rez or anywhere else in America. This is about reaching out to you to help us rescue as many dogs as we can in the next 8 days. Comments "off-point" will not be approved for posting. If you know anyone who could transport dogs, or if you know any shelters or rescues who could take a few or many...please contact me right away at lightshinelakota@yahoo.com. If you would like to help with food and meds for the dogs that are rescued, please Paypal us at the same e-mail address. Message me if you are in the Boulder County area in Colorado and can donate a carrier or food or anything. I will give you my street address. Let's all network like crazy and see if we can get this done. We have been given the ok by the tribe to get the dogs....what we need is help with the care of the dogs and puppies until we can transport to other rescues AND we need help with transport and we need rescues and shelters to take some of them as soon after we rescue them as possible. Please let me know if you have any thoughts or can help in any way with connections you might have etc. This is a picture of a me and some sweet babes that until recently were unclaimed and strays on the reservation. These are the faces of those that will be gone....unless we help them. And Pine Ridge friends....please be aware of this and keep your pets close to home or in the house during the sweep. If you can get your hands on a stray pup and keep it safe....please do so. We are meeting with tribal officials tomorrow and will update you as we get more info. Thank you so much! Please share......KC Willis lightshinelakota@yahoo.com</span>KC Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04143052565379566551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971926625363738281.post-27599339548136288502014-01-22T19:53:00.002-08:002014-01-23T17:41:46.746-08:00My Heart Dogs<br />
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If you know me at all you will not believe this when I tell you....I was never much of an animal person. I know, I know....hard to fathom. Wasn't intentional....just never had any...at all. My folks weren't keen on animals in the house...or how expensive they could be. So we just never owned so much as a hamster. My lack of interaction with dogs became sort of a fear of them later in life as much as an "I don't really like dogs" sort of attitude. I recall a friend of a roommate coming to spend the night and she brought her small dog. I used the no-dogs-allowed in our apartment building as an excuse to send her over to another friend's house. Sheesh. I just didn't like dogs.<br />
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Then I married a man who from the get-go dreamed of having a dog...a Labrador in particular...a Yellow Lab to be exact. For the first ten years of our marriage, whenever he saw a Lab, this usually reserved- to-the-point-of-being-boring-man would say "Woof!" No matter where he was or who was listening. I sensed that a dog might bring out the best in him.<br />
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I'm not even sure what happened to make it finally seem like I couldn't put it off any longer. Maybe if was the fact that I realized he would never want children. I didn't either...if truth be told, so I thought a dog might fill the gap I felt existed in our marriage. I said ok...get a dog...have your Lab...but he's got to stay out in the yard...and no dogs on the bed! I regretted the ok as soon as I said it.<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Vi7Ixw1guTo/TILMXHt9NSI/AAAAAAAAAcg/O_EpTvuXOrg/s1600/buster+and+mommie+hike.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Vi7Ixw1guTo/TILMXHt9NSI/AAAAAAAAAcg/O_EpTvuXOrg/s400/buster+and+mommie+hike.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513193591435769122" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 400px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 266px;" /></a><br />
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In June of 1992...something amazing happened in my life and I would never even come close to being the same again. He was 8 weeks old, weighed not much... And chewed on everything in sight. He got into the trash, ate my shoes, piddled on the carpet and was a general handful. His name was Buster and he changed my life. I was referred to as Mommy and I was never alone again. It took me a few months to open up my heart to this little, yellow guy, after all I had never loved an animal before... but when it happened the world was a different place from that point on. And limit him to the yard and no getting on the bed? Fahgettaboutit. Never happened.<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Vi7Ixw1guTo/TILMsivHcEI/AAAAAAAAAco/5_4AmNSkcz0/s1600/buster+baby+boy.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Vi7Ixw1guTo/TILMsivHcEI/AAAAAAAAAco/5_4AmNSkcz0/s400/buster+baby+boy.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513193959465644098" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 266px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
My first husband was a well-known jazz musician and he was gone 6 months out of the year. I loved my time alone....but I didn't like being lonely. Now that I think about it...even when he was home I was lonely. But Buster was always by my side in a way that only a dog can be....and he taught me how to be a better person. With him came patience, humor, sweetness, unconditional love and puppy breath. I was hooked. I was completely and totally in love with a much younger guy who never kept score, never judged me and who lived for the moment I walked in the door. A year later we got his Chocolate female counterpart and I had a family. Buster and Josie...oh yeah...and what's his name.<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Vi7Ixw1guTo/TILNtX7zZpI/AAAAAAAAAc4/ynRpWP8B5PA/s1600/josie+and+mommie+nap.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Vi7Ixw1guTo/TILNtX7zZpI/AAAAAAAAAc4/ynRpWP8B5PA/s400/josie+and+mommie+nap.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513195073257563794" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 279px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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With the addition of Josie it was very different experience. I had a year as a dog-mom and I knew what that meant. When we picked up this little brown girl I was in love immediately. Buster had taught me how to do that. I named her after the feisty heroine in the novel I was writing and she proceeded to rule the roost. She was 10 weeks old and she took sticks right out of Buster's mouth, hid his toys (or at least it looked like that's what she was doing) and in general told him how it was gonna be. The sweet, gentle guy that he was....let her have her way. He never got rough with her. The first time we put her in "Buster's Pool" he sat beside it and looked at me as if to say..."Uh...mom...you've GOT to be kidding." They slept next to each other for 11 years. She would whine and look out the window if he went somewhere without her, and years later when she lost her sight, he would get between her and any other dog we passed. Buster and Josie....those 3 words were really one word.<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vi7Ixw1guTo/TILMFEKbdTI/AAAAAAAAAcY/3XB0GtzQKEI/s1600/josie+in+pool.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vi7Ixw1guTo/TILMFEKbdTI/AAAAAAAAAcY/3XB0GtzQKEI/s400/josie+in+pool.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513193281243804978" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 264px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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When what's-his-name ran off with what's-her-name I said give me the television and the dogs and be on your merry way. He left for Barcelona and I left the t.v. on for the dogs. During the emotional few months that followed the end of a 20 year marriage...I had my dogs. They slept with me, got me outside when I would have preferred to stay behind closed blinds, smiled at me when I used my Mommy voice and when I cried Buster would actually worry. Even if he was in the other room or sound asleep, if he heard me crying he would literally get in my face. More than once he wiped my tears away....with a big Labrador tongue, his tail wagging telling me it was okay. He was the man in my life now and he seemed to know it. I can't even begin to imagine going through what I did without these amazing creatures by my side. Josie began to lose her sight when she was nine and for the next six years keeping her safe and secure was one of my main goals in life. Even completely blind she was such a happy dog...she was my girl.<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Vi7Ixw1guTo/TILxrP0V1aI/AAAAAAAAAdI/-K8Ed2rjwYc/s1600/happy+girl+and+her+bunny.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Vi7Ixw1guTo/TILxrP0V1aI/AAAAAAAAAdI/-K8Ed2rjwYc/s400/happy+girl+and+her+bunny.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513234619137643938" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 236px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 360px;" /></a><br />
Two years later I met Logan and he and the boys opened up their hearts and their home to me and my two dog-kids. You know a man loves you when he takes in you, a slowing, aging old boy and a completely blind girl. He understood they were my children, he understood they were where all my maternal instincts had been devoted for many years...he understood these two were my heart dogs.<br />
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Eight years ago I lost Buster suddenly. On Sunday evening he was fine....by Thursday he was gone. I was there with him at the Vet and I stayed with him almost until the end and then I got overwhelmed...and scared. I had <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vi7Ixw1guTo/TILrVa_2nDI/AAAAAAAAAdA/tdngZNumSYQ/s1600/buster+soccer+man.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vi7Ixw1guTo/TILrVa_2nDI/AAAAAAAAAdA/tdngZNumSYQ/s400/buster+soccer+man.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513227647111830578" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 267px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 400px;" /></a>never experienced anything like this before. Logan took my place. I couldn't do it. Needless to say I came to regret that decision, but it was done and Buster Man had a guy who loved him very much seeing him through to the end...his head on Logan's lap. Josie looked for him for days. My big yellow guy was gone. A week later, on my birthday, I received his ashes. No finer gift.<br />
And just a little over two years ago, Josie, who lived to be 15 years old, told me she had had enough. I knew I would know when it was time and I did. This time I stayed to the end. Logan, Tate and I sat on the floor with her and she went on to the Rainbow Bridge with all three of us touching her and telling her we loved her. That's exactly how I want to go, thank you.<br />
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So now I know. Now I know what it's like to receive pure love. Pure. Love. And I know what it's like to be devoted to an animal. To have a place inside me come so alive that it never dies...even when they do. What an amazing gift God has given us with these beautiful, warm creatures we are privileged to spend our lives with. And still they are here with me. Not in some weird, macabre way, but in that way that you are not the same because they were here. Their collars hang casually at the end of our balustrade and once in awhile I touch them and am reminded of the amazing personalities that once wore them. I am so thankful for them. In the last couple years of Josie's life she would find her way to the bedroom at night and search out her blanket. I would sometimes say out loud "Good night, Miss Josie, Mommy loves you" so she would know I was there. Now I say it out loud once in awhile to remind <span style="font-style: italic;">me</span> that <span style="font-style: italic;">she</span> is there.<br />
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And so life goes on. I have had moments, though, when I am sad about one thing or another and thoughts of these two come to me and I feel a moment of surprise that I have actually been able to go on without them. But I honor them every day with the rescue work we do with dogs on The Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota. Every dog we at help at <a href="http://www.facebook.com/lightshinecanines">LightShine Canine</a> is a gift from God...true....but it is because of the love that I had/have for these two that I am rescuing dogs at all. And so their legacy lives on.<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Vi7Ixw1guTo/TILx-GfQoBI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/JP-lSpr8g34/s1600/doggies.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Vi7Ixw1guTo/TILx-GfQoBI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/JP-lSpr8g34/s400/doggies.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513234943050817554" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 238px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 360px;" /></a><br />
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Thank you Buster and Josie for all you have done for me. I will never stop loving you. And one day when my Father in Heaven welcomes me home and all my family is there to greet me...they will have to wait for their embrace, because Buster and Josie will get to me first.<br />
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Happy Dogs. Healthy Dogs. Heart Dogs.<br />
<br />KC Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04143052565379566551noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971926625363738281.post-44962846569552883052014-01-05T17:26:00.001-08:002014-01-07T11:59:51.801-08:00Light A Fire.....<br />
Ahhhh...it's Sunday and it is snowing here in beautiful Colorado. I don't have to go anywhere or do anything that would get me out of my fleece-lined sweat pants and slippers. I will leave the TV off and the drapes open and watch it snow. Perhaps it will even get chilly enough for me to curl up on the sofa with my dogs...maybe I will even light a fire...with a remote control. I used to love these kinds of days. Actually I still love these kinds of days....but now I know better...now I know the flip side of winter-wonderland days.<br />
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This is my third winter working on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota...and on days like this the first thing I do now is check the weather in southwestern South Dakota. Today...not good news. Multiple below zero nights are upon them. The weatherman talks of the cold front sweeping down from wherever they sweep down from...and he makes a little joke about "gonna be cold out there"....over and over again like Bill Murray's radio on the movie Groundhog Day. All I can think of are the men, women and dogs who live on the streets of Whiteclay...and the children and elders in the inadequate housing all over the Reservation. If history is any indicator....we will very likely here in the coming days of someone who has died inside their own home.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JBOZRliXxGc/UsoChAObuzI/AAAAAAAABZQ/gQtYSbttMDc/s1600/pine-ridge-snow-storm3-4-13.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JBOZRliXxGc/UsoChAObuzI/AAAAAAAABZQ/gQtYSbttMDc/s1600/pine-ridge-snow-storm3-4-13.gif" height="228" width="320" /></a>The suffering can be great on the Reservation in the winter. The tribe does what the tribe does....but it is never enough. No one should have to see their breath in their bedroom. No mother should have to fear that the baby might be in danger from hypothermia. No one should have to burn their clothes or break up the furniture for firewood. Elders shouldn't lose fingers or toes to frostbite. These things shouldn't happen....but they do. Every cold spell....every winter...there is a suffering beyond anything we can imagine...these things actually happen. And I hate to tell you this....but if you just read that paragraph...now you know. You can't say you had no idea....because now you know.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jFeuZzJcQp4/UsoCnZMkTYI/AAAAAAAABZY/u72WIQsZydM/s1600/Elder+by+stove.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jFeuZzJcQp4/UsoCnZMkTYI/AAAAAAAABZY/u72WIQsZydM/s1600/Elder+by+stove.jpg" height="252" width="320" /></a>We can't fix it all...no one can fix it all. But we can make a difference....to that one elder...that one family...that one animal...that one. That ONE. If you will do for one what you wish you could do for everyone....a difference will be made.<br />
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It is my desire and the desire of my Lakota friends and family to see this changed. In order for it to change...justice has to take place; complicated, elusive justice. But justice takes time and until it happens...mercy steps in and does what it can. Mercy. Love. Compassion. Help born of sadness, born of anger, born of empathy....but born in some small way. You have the power to make a difference today. Call in any small amount to the propane company on Pine Ridge. 605-867-5199. Ask for Shay and tell her this is for KC Willis' account. When enough is there for an order ($125 minimum) then I will call them with an address...and for tonight a mother can sleep without worry and an elder will be safe. If you prefer you can simply Paypal us at lightshinelakota@yahoo.com and we can call in a propane order for you or order a delivery of wood.<br />
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If you are sitting in a warm house you are blessed. Please be a blessing. Pilamaya. Thank you.<br />
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KC Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04143052565379566551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971926625363738281.post-64200662090654281602014-01-03T19:44:00.002-08:002014-01-05T12:12:50.261-08:00Rez Dogs....A Love Story<br />
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If you are an animal lover, the Pine Ridge Reservation can be a tough place to be. Dogs by themselves and in packs are a common sight. In the summer they are hot, hungry, and scared. And in the winter they are cold, hungry, and scared. There is no shelter, no spay and neuter program and animal control is an occasional rounding-up of strays, who are then taken out to the dump and shot. The dump is also where unwanted dogs and puppies are...well...dumped. Hundreds and hundreds of animals do not survive their first year on the Rez.<br />
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But thanks to dedicated Lakota animal lovers on Pine Ridge, a wonderful Native man who scours the dump, locals who help injured dogs and a rancher from nearby Gordon named Miss Jean, hundreds, if not thousands of Rez dogs have been saved and are living in homes all across America - including mine. Miss Jean has been known to race the 50 miles to the Rez, when she gets wind of an impending “sweep” of the strays and fills up her truck with as many dogs as she can get her hands on. Sometimes going many miles into the heart of the reservation to find the “lost ones”...those who are wandering in the middle of nowhere far from any handouts or trash cans. It was in one such remote location that my friend Charlie Yellowbird and I were driving one day, when we had to slow down as 2 skinny dogs crossed the road in the middle of nowhere.<br />
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Charlie spoke under his breath more to himself than to me.<br />
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“Survivors”, he whispered, never taking his eyes off the dogs. He was honoring them with the word; perhaps he recognized himself as the third member of the pack. Survivors all.<br />
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But nowhere on the Rez is this word more appropriate than for the dogs and the humans who live on the streets of Whiteclay. A mere 1000 yards off the Rez, Whiteclay, Nebraska is home to 14 permanent residents who have roofs over their heads. It is also home to 30 or so who call the streets and the abandoned houses that dot the two-block-long town...home. At any given time there are a dozen adult dogs and an assortment of puppies trying to survive the summer, but most won't survive the winter. The Rising Warriors of the streets are family we know and love, and to many of them the street dogs are their family. They share their food with the strays, name them, sleep with them and on more than one occasion have covered the dead body of a dog with the one blanket they possess. The streets of Whiteclay are dark and violent for man, woman and dog. For every dog who has someone who loves them, there are two dogs who are chased off, kicked, punched and cussed at; dogs who will not know a gentle touch unless someone places a blanket over them when their street hell is over.<br />
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But one four legged girl has it better than most. She is loved by he Rising Warriors...even<br />
revered. They call her “Protector”. Rumor has it, that when bad spirits try to get into the abandoned house where they sleep, Protector will bark and scare them off. Many know her, some love her, but to Robert Little Crow, a beautiful soul whose address has been the streets of Whiteclay for 15 years...she is his best friend. A former radical member of the American Indian Movement, (AIM) Robert these days is more likely to be found being sure Protector is free from ticks and is often seen limping across the street with an empty broken dish of some sort or another filled with water for "his girl." Feed Robert and you will be feeding Protector.<br />
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More than once, we have rescued a starving dog from the Rez streets and taken them out to Miss Jean's ranch, but it has never crossed my mind to grab Protector; she belongs to Robert- she is his guardian angel. But the week before Thanksgiving, myself, my niece Meghan and my nephew Robert decided we were going to pluck a little black and white abandoned mutt named “Oreo” off the streets before we headed back home. Simple enough?<br />
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Not so much.<br />
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Oreo had hung out all day long in front of our building in Whiteclay, but now that it was time to dog-nap her she was nowhere in sight. Neither was the other pup, Essie, we had decided needed to get off the streets, who seemed to have gotten wind of an ensuing liberation and stuck by our side all day.<br />
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My nephew came in and said. “We have to go if we are gonna get out to the ranch before dark, but the dogs aren’t here.”<br />
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Not only were the two we wanted not there...there was not a stray in sight. I had never seen that before. Streets completely void of dogs. “Let’s pray ‘ em in!” I said with a laugh, but began to do just that. All of a sudden dogs appeared from behind buildings, from under cars and the two we wanted, walked right up to us. What happened next was just a little extra “God thing” thrown in to remind us who was in charge of the rescuing around here.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">Robert Little Crow</td></tr>
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Robert Little Crow hurried across the street as fast as his two bad legs would let him, “KC- wait!” he shouted. The three of us turned around, concerned by the urgency in his voice. He kept talking as he crossed the street.<br />
<br />
“Take my girl! Please! Take my girl! She’s gonna have puppies. The last litter froze to death.” He had tears in his eyes. “Please get her out of here. We’ve spent two winters together in that basement over there. But she needs a better life than this.”<br />
<br />
So do you, I thought to myself.<br />
<br />
“Are you sure?” I asked, not knowing if she would come to us, let alone allow us to pick her up to put her in the truck. Robert seemed to read my mind and he started to call her name. She appeared in seconds, answering the call of her trusted friend.<br />
<br />
Robert knelt beside her hugging her. “I’ll miss her, I’ll miss her.” He kept repeating, tears streaming down his face. Now you have to understand...when you live on the streets of Whiteclay you pretty much own nothing. Maybe you’ve been able to keep a backpack with a handful of this and that from being stolen while you were passed out drunk. Everything Robert owned and loved-he was hugging.<br />
<br />
Without saying another word, he lifted Protector and put her in the truck. Just like that her new life had begun...and just like that Robert Little Crow became my hero.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">Meghan and Essie on her rescue ride</td></tr>
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Miss Jean’s ranch is miles off the main highway and then miles more into the center of the vast ranchlands outside Gordon, NE. In the back of our borrowed van were 3 dogs who had never been in a vehicle in their lives, who had never been put in a small space with other dogs and the sometimes-to-be-feared humans. My nephew, Robert crawled in the back with two of them and Meghan held one in her lap. Protector took quite awhile before she relaxed enough to lay down. An hour and many miles on gravel roads later, we delivered the comandeered canines to Miss Jean’s ranch where they were sure to spend this night safe, fed and warm for the first time in their lives.<br />
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I couldn’t wait to tell Robert Little Crow how content Protector seemed and to be and thank him again for what he had done for her and her unborn litter. But less than a week later....the unthinkable happened. Protector vanished; in the dark and the cold, more in the middle of nowhere than ever....she vanished. Was she looking for Robert? Who knows. She was just gone.<br />
<br />
Miss Jean looked for her for days; hours every day. Never in 25 years of rescuing dogs had she had a “non-feral” dog just vanish. All I could think about was how Protector would not have had any way of knowing how remote of an area she was in. I imagined her hungry, cold, pregnant and lost wandering the vast plains until she couldn’t. I prayed for God to keep her safe, I placed angels around her (I do that alot) and I asked Him not to let her suffer. I knew we had done the right thing, but I still felt guilty.<br />
<br />
A week later Jean stopped looking and I stopped praying. Protector was gone. God was in charge, as He always is. He knew where she was and he had not let her suffer. I was sure of it. He had protected Protector.<br />
<br />
Two days ago it had been exactly a month since Protector had vanished into thin air. Robert, Meghan and I have been back in Colorado this whole time and I have not seen Robert Little Crow. He did not know that we had lost “his girl.” At night in my prayers, when I placed angels around Robert (and Eli and Donovan and Granny Back Pack etc.) I prayed that God would give me the right words to tell him when the moment came.<br />
<br />
But thanks to Miss Jean's words on the other end of the phone...those words would not be necessary.<br />
<br />
“You’ll never guess who is in my living room!” she said excitedly....and I knew immediately.<br />
<br />
“What the heck!” was all I could say.<br />
<br />
A friend of Miss Jean’s had been feeding a stray at the hospital for over a week, thinking it belonged to one of his employees. Earlier that day when he saw the guy he pointed to the dog and told him he shouldn’t let his dog run loose like that.<br />
<br />
His employee said “That’s not my dog.” I'd like to think God then commented, “No... that’s <i>my </i>dog.”<br />
<br />
Jean’s friend immediately scooped up the cold, hungry dog and took her to the only place to take a dog... Miss Jean's house.<br />
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“I can’t imagine what she must have been through.” Jean just kept saying over and over again. “It was so cold the first few nights after she disappeared. And Gordon is over 15 miles away!”<br />
<br />
After examing Protector, Jean concluded that she was no longer pregnant and we had to assume the puppies hadn’t survived, as it didn’t appear Mama Dog was nursing. But Mama Dog was alive. Robert’s girl was alive. What an amazing end to an amazing story we all kept saying. Amazing? Yes. The end?<br />
<br />
Not so much.<br />
<br />
Protector slept in front of the fireplace for several hours, seemingly exhausted and not anxious in the least...at first. But suddenly she was up, pacing by the door, unable to settle back down. On a hunch born of rescuing thousands of dogs, Jean examined Protector again.<br />
<br />
Milk. She was producing milk.<br />
<br />
She quickly called her friend back at the hospital. “Can you show me exactly where you have seen this dog over the past week?”<br />
<br />
“Sure- why?” he asked.<br />
<br />
“I believe there are puppies out there.” She answered before racing out the door...Mama Dog on her heels. Over gravel roads the 15 miles to Gordon will take you a half an hour.<br />
<br />
When Jean parked the car in front of the small hospital and opened the car door, Protector took off down the street. So did Jean, on foot...on a mission.<br />
<br />
For well over an hour, she tried to keep up with Protector as she ran through backyards, up streets, down streets, sniffing out front porches, almost loosing sight of her several times. Finally, they turned a corner and Protector raced toward an abandoned house. Jean grabbed her hind quarters as she tried to get under the house in a small dug-out opening. Jean held onto Protector afraid that if she got inside the house she might refuse to come out. A phone call to the man who had returned Protector, brought him on the run, along with a thin, young man he worked with...who could fit in the opening.<br />
<br />
“Are you sitting down?” said a voice on the other end of the phone. “Seriously. Sit down.”<br />
<br />
“Ok”, I said, pulling up a stool in the kitchen.<br />
<br />
“There are five of them.” She laughed.<br />
<br />
“Five what?” I asked, even as I knew what she was going to say.<br />
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“Five puppies! Protector has 5 fat, healthy puppies!”<br />
<br />
Five. The number of grace.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Protector.<br />
<br />
Robert's girl.<br />
<br />
Mama Dog.<br />
<br />
Surrounded by angels...<br />
<br />
by prayers...<br />
<br />
by people who care.<br />
<br />
Protector.<br />
<br />
Protected.<br />
<br />
Whisper out loud with me...<br />
<br />
“Survivor.”<br />
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Epilogue:<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qF_91VYBnn4/UN-N9mnI30I/AAAAAAAABBY/4iaXp1yHd-o/s1600/dogs-jean.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="186" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qF_91VYBnn4/UN-N9mnI30I/AAAAAAAABBY/4iaXp1yHd-o/s200/dogs-jean.jpg" width="200" /></a>If you would like to help us help the dogs on the Rez, you may <a href="http://gofundme.com/61drcc">donate to the dog rescue</a> we now have with Miss Jean....LightShine Canine. Visit us on FaceBook to see more pics of amazing dogs that have been rescued...redeemed and are ready to go...and of the Lakota young adults helping us. <a href="http://gofundme.com/61drcc">Go here</a> to help us update the housing and fencing for the dogs on The Ranch....our much loved Rez Dogs.<br />
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<form action="https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr" method="post">
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<b>Protector and her puppies, along with Oreo and Essie, all have <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">KC and buddies.</td></tr>
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found good homes. Protector is being loved on a ranch in southern Nebraska....and Robert Little Crow was able to see pictures of her and her puppies and know they were cared for, before he too found a new home in Rapid City with a daughter who finally found <i>him</i>. </b><br />
<b><br /></b><b>Protector is a special, special dog. Please share her story.</b>KC Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04143052565379566551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971926625363738281.post-74088064399883905972013-08-27T08:18:00.002-07:002013-08-27T11:57:05.687-07:00Write Before His Eyes<br />
When I was 23 I was a singer in a rock band...hard to fathom, I know...but true nonetheless. The leader of said rock band was impressed with my voice...I won the audition after all...but not so much with many other things about me. He scolded me for laziness, was constantly aggravated over my inability to hear harmonies and was in general...a General. But little by little I began to see that he truly wanted better for me than I was settling for. He was the big brother I never had...my very first mentor before I knew what the word meant. For my 23rd birthday he gave me some light reading by the name of "Sophie's Choice" and I walked through (ok trudged through) my first piece of literary writing. There were books to be read other than The Little House series....who knew! One day he pulled me aside...finally, utterly appalled at my bad grammar and said "One of these days you will be interviewed and you will be mortified at how often you 'talk wrong'." Apparently there was a right way to speak. He proceeded, with my permission, to bring to my attention every instance of my law breaking....<br />
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And so for years after I had left that band and was walking through the real word (ok trudging through) I remembered all he had said and this crazy girl began to read everything she could get her hands on and fell in love with language...and writing...and lessons learned.<br />
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We lost touch with each other for a long time, but I somehow managed to find him and contact him when in 1995 when I sold a novel to HarperCollins...a little book publisher right down the street from where he now worked as an editor in New York City. He laughed out loud he was so happy (and probably stunned). When "what's his name" ran off with "what's her name" he was one of the first to tell me..."it'll be ok..."you are awesome"..."he's an idiot." In the summer of 2001 I was in NYC and we had a great lunch together catching up on the years and marveling at how I could now speak without double negatives. A few years ago he wrote me and suggested I try out this thing called Facebook, because the old band members were on there and we could share pictures of our lives. I said ok...I'll try it. He was my first Facebook friend.<br />
<br />
Last night my precious, intelligent, funny and true friend lost his wife to cancer waaaay before her time. I know his heart is broken...their daughter's heart is broken. I am so glad that I know about his wife's passing...I am so glad that we reconnected so that I could know this. You are in my prayers my dear friend and I will think of you often in the days to come. You know where I am and you know you are loved. And if I could somehow put it into words the ways you have impacted my life....I would.KC Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04143052565379566551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971926625363738281.post-34779068368732838632013-08-12T12:13:00.003-07:002013-08-12T12:20:51.395-07:00A Letter to Whiteclay.....<br />
<b>This has been one of our most read posts and we are reprinting it with a little updating in both text and images. Please take a moment and read the "letter" God gave me a year ago. It was all Him. I can't take credit for a single word. As Mama T (Mother Theresa) used to say..."I am a pencil in the hand of a writing God sending a love letter to the world."</b><i><br /></i><br />
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<i>Whiteclay, Nebraska is a town of approximately 14 residents and 4 liquor stores. The first one</i><i>conveniently </i><i>sits 250 yards from the border of the "dry" Pine Ridge Indian Reservation; a reservation that has been shattered into a million little pieces by the ravages of alcoholism. If Whiteclay could read...I might send it an e-mail something like this....</i><br />
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<br />
To: hey-i-am-not-breaking-any-laws@shame-on-you.com<br />
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<br />
Dear Whiteclay,<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kWmQEvOiit4/T24TLkcVTPI/AAAAAAAAAws/Etuc8nwE0zY/s1600/x_whiteclay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kWmQEvOiit4/T24TLkcVTPI/AAAAAAAAAws/Etuc8nwE0zY/s320/x_whiteclay.jpg" width="320" /></a>You don't know me...and sometimes I wish I didn't know you. But I have walked your streets, talked to your homeless, slept in your zip code, and prayed in your fields. I know you perhaps better than you know yourself. You're not fooling anyone. You fly the flag of capitalism (and when no one is looking you salute it), defending yourself all the way to the bank. In the way that matters to you, you are successful. In the way that matters to anyone who has seen you at work....you are the equivalent of<br />
twist-off-top atomic bomb. They hand you a few dollars and you hand them destruction as complete as Hiroshima...only no one comes back to rebuild the nation.<br />
<br />
The first time I met you, you frightened me, I'll admit it. I locked my car doors, didn't make eye contact and set my GPS to find the corner of "get me the hell out of here" and "what was I thinking?" I was kinda hoping I wouldn't run into you again, but it seemed everywhere I turned on the Pine Ridge Reservation I met people who had visited your house. What kind of neighbor, knowing the house next door was made of flammable material, would pour gasoline on it...and light a match? <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lFxhDjnOG5Y/T24TSSwLUMI/AAAAAAAAAw0/25ZmflvI9A8/s1600/whiteclay3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lFxhDjnOG5Y/T24TSSwLUMI/AAAAAAAAAw0/25ZmflvI9A8/s1600/whiteclay3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>But here's the deal. My God is here to put you on notice. I believe there are spirits in the invisible realm. I believe some are so petty that a thousand of them could fit in my shoe. I also believe some are huge, having fed themselves on injustice and evil for many generations. They have gorged on unforgiveness and fear and washed it down with hopelessness. When they open their wings they cover an entire valley....or an entire First Nation. There is a darkness to their shadows that lingers.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dNag0pFPneQ/UYPrh1ISKtI/AAAAAAAABL4/0TfZyZx9CKg/s1600/praying+on+the+porch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dNag0pFPneQ/UYPrh1ISKtI/AAAAAAAABL4/0TfZyZx9CKg/s320/praying+on+the+porch.jpg" width="180" /></a>But there is a renaissance afoot; a revolution marching to the beat of creativity, original language, pride, and in step with God and His Son and The Holy Spirit. The Lakota people you have tried your best to destroy are determined to be a mighty Sioux Nation again. They are warriors. God made them that way. They know how to stand and fight and they know how to get on their knees...and fight. You are no match for the seventh generation. You are no match for the Cross....and the God of the Angel Armies. You think you are safely surrounded by the cloak of darkness that will hide you...but in reality you are surrounded by armies of light that can only be put into motion when the people pray. And the people are praying, Whiteclay. From the four directions...they are praying.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5WzWF4s2OnM/UYPr0axXJvI/AAAAAAAABMI/X7me7YsBlQ4/s1600/cross+gutter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5WzWF4s2OnM/UYPr0axXJvI/AAAAAAAABMI/X7me7YsBlQ4/s320/cross+gutter.jpg" width="191" /></a>We may not be able to foreclose on your physical residence, but we can take the streets back and there is nothing you can do about. We will love you right out of the neighborhood. Feed them, clothe them, visit them....you get the picture. You tried more than once to shut down this pool of love, but we are ripping off the "Keep out" sign and jumping in the deep end. As a matter of fact your dark notoriety will be our diving board. For as surely as the world has been stunned by the sight of the shattered spirits you roll into ditches...it will have no choice but to take notice of the love that pulls them out. Our hands are raised and we are shouting His name...which from what I have come to understand means that you have to go. Shriek, howl, curse....whatever you gotta do. The shadow of the Cross has fallen across your gutters and you have to go.<br />
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<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2_dBuYfbaaU/UYPrwGZDKiI/AAAAAAAABMA/bTzjQM8nA48/s1600/KC+and+Eli.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2_dBuYfbaaU/UYPrwGZDKiI/AAAAAAAABMA/bTzjQM8nA48/s320/KC+and+Eli.jpg" width="292" /></a>Pine Ridge will be a City on a Hill...a light to show the way to other nations of First People. And you Whiteclay, the dark room that you are....will have no choice but to give way to the light. For when light enters a room...darkness has to flee. This is your notice. Consider yourself formally served.<br />
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<br />
All For Him....KC Willis<br />
<br />
light-up-the-darkness@ordinaryclaypots.com<br />
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<br />KC Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04143052565379566551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971926625363738281.post-80101795116223680152013-08-05T18:24:00.000-07:002013-08-05T18:24:33.566-07:00All Tied Up And No Place To Go<br />
<br />
Reprint from a blog I wrote in 2011...<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Vi7Ixw1guTo/TR0bUHRWIfI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/ApXSzEJJDto/s1600/me+with+glasses.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Vi7Ixw1guTo/TR0bUHRWIfI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/ApXSzEJJDto/s320/me+with+glasses.jpg" width="214" /></a>When I was ten years old I was picked on a lot for some reason. Oh wait...I remember. I was skinny, wore glasses and cried at the drop of a hat. A bully's dream target. On a really cold winter day I was hitting the tether ball with a friend at recess. Actually I should say I was <i>trying</i> to hit the tether ball. Physical coordination and I were not on speaking terms.<br />
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A couple of tough guys who were in the fifth grade decided they wanted the tether ball and my girlfriend told them they couldn't have it.<br />
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Tough Guys: Get outta here. We're gonna play now.<br />
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Best Friend: (in a confident manner foreign to this writer at that age) Can't have it!<br />
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KC: muffled giggle (thrilled with such bravery)<br />
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Now keep in mind I wasn't that one who said they couldn't have it. I simply giggled. But to these boys, who I realized later had insecurities much larger than their bravado, the giggling was the ultimate insult. That and the fact that they knew they couldn't out-spur the wonderful and brave Linda, they instead turned their attention to the kid that cried. At that exact moment I thought I had been saved from their anger by the ringing of the bell. Linda must have thought so too, because she dashed off into the building. The boys did as well, but not before they grabbed the tether ball rope and tied me to the pole. One of them looked over his shoulder and yelled. "What are you gonna do now?"<br />
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Within a two minute span of time I had gone from a giggle to being abandoned, tied to a cold pole while everyone else ran inside. I think they missed seeing me because I was so skinny the pole hid me from view. And so I did what I did best....I cried. I recall being scared that no one would know I was missing until I was a frozen, blonde lump on the pole.<br />
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But HE knew...THEY knew. God and....my teacher, Mr. Setter. He was my hero. Not just that day, but everyday. He seemed to know I was tender-hearted (as my Dad called it) and he went out of his way to be extra nice. Sometimes girls like me can be invisible to teachers, but he knew I had not come in from recess and he went looking for me. So not only did he untie the ropes that held me to an immovable object, but he held my hand, wiped my tears and majorly kicked some fifth grade butt. Definitely my hero.<br />
<br />
I thought about that story today as I looked back over a pretty tough year. And it occurred to me that Mr. Setter (Mr. Go Get Her) and that whole incident was not unlike what happened to me AGAIN these past few months. The Great Distractor tied me up and turned me every which way but loose. He grabbed a rope that said Health and one that said Prosperity and entangled them with a hundred knots...leaving me to struggle in vain against them. One minute the pole was ice cold and my tongue stuck to it when I complained and the next it was red hot and miserable. And in my ear every morning he would whisper over and over..."What are you gonna do now?"<br />
<br />
And I did what I do best....I cried. I cried in my coffee, I cried in my bedroom....but most importantly I cried while giving Him praise.<br />
<br />
And HE heard me...the God of my childhood, the Rescuer of my Right Now. He knew I hadn't come home. He knew that I was missing. He knew exactly where I was. And He arrived with a big fat knife with the word Redemption written on it and he cut those ropes into little bitty pieces and kicked some Great Deceiver butt. I'm not out of the woods, but He is holding my hand and He knows where He is leading me. And when I think of what He has planned for me in this new year, in this new life....I can't help but giggle.<br />
KC Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04143052565379566551noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971926625363738281.post-17840210952299128622013-06-25T09:51:00.000-07:002013-06-25T16:47:50.810-07:00Walking Pine Ridge with Joe Pulliam<br />
<b>Watercolor Workshops and Historical/Cultural tours with Lakota Artist Joe Pulliam on the Pine Ridge Reservation.</b><br />
<b><br /> </b><br />
Here's
your chance to spend 3 days with the award winning Pine Ridge Artist
collected around the world. This amazing class will be a combination of
art and history as you walk through Joe's signature techniques and the
history and love he has for his People. Create a piece of art under the
direction of this gifted watercolor artist and hear the stories of his
ancestors and how they inspire his work even today. With relatives that
include the great Holy Man, Black Elk and the legendary Crazy Horse,
you are sure to leave different from when you came. (A 2-day version
without the day of art is also available below.)<br />
<br />
<a data-mce-href="http://api.ning.com:80/files/E8PjTOC8VYrHrphJc5KnLWDieZ5kLfmo7drbQE6q2kMyUQ8M7ZhCdka7lgSNurpOPs44OIqNbapWPVTRFoJTkuNYmw48EKGO/471378_3121765555616_1008888862_32371622_689348638_o.jpg" href="http://api.ning.com/files/E8PjTOC8VYrHrphJc5KnLWDieZ5kLfmo7drbQE6q2kMyUQ8M7ZhCdka7lgSNurpOPs44OIqNbapWPVTRFoJTkuNYmw48EKGO/471378_3121765555616_1008888862_32371622_689348638_o.jpg" target="_self"><img class="align-full" data-mce-src="http://api.ning.com:80/files/E8PjTOC8VYrHrphJc5KnLWDieZ5kLfmo7drbQE6q2kMyUQ8M7ZhCdka7lgSNurpOPs44OIqNbapWPVTRFoJTkuNYmw48EKGO/471378_3121765555616_1008888862_32371622_689348638_o.jpg?width=400" src="http://api.ning.com/files/E8PjTOC8VYrHrphJc5KnLWDieZ5kLfmo7drbQE6q2kMyUQ8M7ZhCdka7lgSNurpOPs44OIqNbapWPVTRFoJTkuNYmw48EKGO/471378_3121765555616_1008888862_32371622_689348638_o.jpg?width=400" width="400" /></a><br />
We
will have a day and a half in the studio with Joe and a day and a half
out on the Rez with him, as well as a visit to the famous Fort Robinson
about an hour from Pine Ridge. The first day of the workshop will be
walking with Joe and your camera on the lands where his ancestors have
lived and died. You will visit Wounded Knee, as well as less-traveled
spots on the reservation with Joe's commentary and perspective helping
you to see through the eyes and the hearts of the Lakota people.<br />
<a data-mce-href="http://api.ning.com:80/files/f3PrxxgeTKYzZ975B1Nws-WOK4vpAsp3izLNUWTq1FlEqoaxjs9*jAieE8pbbZH16hLpo3*8DUZElqWqt2RKw86-bXBvLIeY/20121017_132552_64.jpg" href="http://api.ning.com/files/f3PrxxgeTKYzZ975B1Nws-WOK4vpAsp3izLNUWTq1FlEqoaxjs9*jAieE8pbbZH16hLpo3*8DUZElqWqt2RKw86-bXBvLIeY/20121017_132552_64.jpg" target="_self"><img class="align-full" data-mce-src="http://api.ning.com:80/files/f3PrxxgeTKYzZ975B1Nws-WOK4vpAsp3izLNUWTq1FlEqoaxjs9*jAieE8pbbZH16hLpo3*8DUZElqWqt2RKw86-bXBvLIeY/20121017_132552_64.jpg?width=388" src="http://api.ning.com/files/f3PrxxgeTKYzZ975B1Nws-WOK4vpAsp3izLNUWTq1FlEqoaxjs9*jAieE8pbbZH16hLpo3*8DUZElqWqt2RKw86-bXBvLIeY/20121017_132552_64.jpg?width=388" width="388" /></a><br />
Basic watercolor knowledge preferred. Class limited to 4.<br />
<br />
<i>September 23-25, 2013 is the next scheduled workshop...but you and a friend or two
can also work with us on choosing dates that work specifically for you.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<a data-mce-href="http://api.ning.com:80/files/1e4cLen*BlxIiBeA3xAqR3S2PhXBG3pw1TBP*mnIhdSMByPQHqCwrTB7pNjYXLR15yl0FEQLj1D5G1QLTrSnLe8Ixc2vD0L4/20121017_113032_553.jpg" href="http://api.ning.com/files/1e4cLen*BlxIiBeA3xAqR3S2PhXBG3pw1TBP*mnIhdSMByPQHqCwrTB7pNjYXLR15yl0FEQLj1D5G1QLTrSnLe8Ixc2vD0L4/20121017_113032_553.jpg" target="_self"><img class="align-full" data-mce-src="http://api.ning.com:80/files/1e4cLen*BlxIiBeA3xAqR3S2PhXBG3pw1TBP*mnIhdSMByPQHqCwrTB7pNjYXLR15yl0FEQLj1D5G1QLTrSnLe8Ixc2vD0L4/20121017_113032_553.jpg?width=444" src="http://api.ning.com/files/1e4cLen*BlxIiBeA3xAqR3S2PhXBG3pw1TBP*mnIhdSMByPQHqCwrTB7pNjYXLR15yl0FEQLj1D5G1QLTrSnLe8Ixc2vD0L4/20121017_113032_553.jpg?width=444" width="444" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Pay for your space in full and receive a signed Pulliam print!<br />
$575<br />
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<br />
<b>What Folks are Saying.....</b><br />
<div class="yiv3738980471MsoNormal" id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371921519431_2179">
<span class="font-size-2"><i>"Our
workshop with Joe was simply incredible. This experience surpassed our
expectations a hundred times over. Joe’s warmth and kindness made us
feel comfortable from the moment we met him and it just got better
throughout the week. His willingness to share Lakota history and
current tribal challenges was incredibly enlightening. We were full of
questions, and Joe’s sincerity, quick wit and wonderful sense of humor
allowed us to talk about anything and everything in an open, heartfelt
and illuminating manner. Once we were in the studio and began creating
our own works of art, Joe’s immeasurable patience and support as an
experienced art teacher made each of us feel as though we could create
a masterpiece!</i></span></div>
<div class="yiv3738980471MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="yiv3738980471MsoNormal" id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371921519431_2182">
<span class="font-size-2"><i>Don’t
let this opportunity pass you by. You will never forget this
experience. Bring a friend … I brought two and we shared a
cross-cultural, creative experience that none of us will ever forget."</i></span></div>
<a data-mce-href="http://api.ning.com:80/files/VHhFCbVK0pG9nZeJ5w7X*xBreEPvzf6tw8nvSTyTswbVXN3jx31cZo82YdSraAdCixMrC0sT3xldm-75XyBPSSSQ1sIattdh/IMAG0673.jpg" href="http://api.ning.com/files/VHhFCbVK0pG9nZeJ5w7X*xBreEPvzf6tw8nvSTyTswbVXN3jx31cZo82YdSraAdCixMrC0sT3xldm-75XyBPSSSQ1sIattdh/IMAG0673.jpg" target="_self"><img class="align-full" data-mce-src="http://api.ning.com:80/files/VHhFCbVK0pG9nZeJ5w7X*xBreEPvzf6tw8nvSTyTswbVXN3jx31cZo82YdSraAdCixMrC0sT3xldm-75XyBPSSSQ1sIattdh/IMAG0673.jpg?width=222" src="http://api.ning.com/files/VHhFCbVK0pG9nZeJ5w7X*xBreEPvzf6tw8nvSTyTswbVXN3jx31cZo82YdSraAdCixMrC0sT3xldm-75XyBPSSSQ1sIattdh/IMAG0673.jpg?width=222" width="222" /></a><br />
Accommodations
on and off the Rez are affordable. Suggestions will be offered at
registration. There are two nice motels on Lakota lands and others
within a short drive "off-Rez". Rooms or meals are not included in the
price.<br />
<br />
Transportation to the Pine Ridge Reservation is up
to you. Closest major airport is in Rapid City about 90 minutes away. I
always drive to the Rez...but then I dig road trips. Deposit/payment of
$390 button is below, but if you pay in full (above) you receive a
limited edition, signed Joe Pulliam print. You may use a credit card
directly (MC, Visa, AMX and Discover) if Paypal is not your choice.
E-me at lightshinelakota@yahoo.com and we can connect.<br />
<br />
<br />
$390 deposit for watercolor class or $390 to pay in full for 2 day
historical and cultural tour with Joe. Make note of your preference.<br />
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____________________________________________________<br />
<br />KC Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04143052565379566551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971926625363738281.post-1931806181562376902013-05-05T11:12:00.001-07:002013-05-05T11:12:52.995-07:00For The BirdsI think birds dance in their underwear.<br />
<br />
Last night was one of my many don't-fall-asleep-at-all nights...the kind where you are in and out of bed every 20 minutes for the whooooole night. I have come to know them well and to see the signs early on that it's gonna be one of "those nights." From this manic part of my life (yes I am bi-polar, which if you know me well you may find yourself muttering "well that explains a lot.") often comes my best creative ideas and in the middle of the night is when God will speak to my heart through prayer or reading The Word. I have learned to whisper in the true desperation of an insomniac "speak Lord for your servant is listening," or in less in-control moments when all I want to do is sleep....I have been known to look to the heavens and say "whaaaaaat???"<br />
<br />
I had one of those nights last night. I jotted down every thought, blog idea and made a laundry list of all I needed to do next time we were on The Rez in an effort to find why I was up....what I was supposed to <i>not </i>miss in the middle of the dang night. Nothin'. So I did what every good soldier in the war on this terror called insomnia has learned to do. I made a latte' at 3 a.m. Actually, oftentimes that will do the job. Sorta like a hyper kid being given uppers to negate the hyper. I like to explain this phenomenon when it does not work by using the technical phrase "whatever."<br />
<br />
But at 4:44 this morning....I stepped out onto my front porch. It was still totally dark, but I sure thought I heard a bird singing....and so I stepped outside. I expected to hear the sound of a lone bird...I had heard this before. But this was different. This sounded like dozens and dozens of birds...birds with a beautiful song, clear and strong...lifting their voices to the crescent moon...performing just for me. Or so I thought. Then a picture came to me so clear that I thought for a moment, in my now-latte-induced insomnia, that I could see him. David. David so full of love for his God and joy in his Spirit that he danced in his ephod before Him and His Angel Armies. Couldn't even wait to get dressed....just danced and sang and wrote love poems and worshiped in his priestly underwear. Perhaps the birds weren't singing to me, but their abandon and confidence in the Creator was something he let me in on for a few minutes.<br />
<br />
Birds who had no idea if they would find a worm that day for breakfast, who weren't worried about what they would make their nests out of or if their feathers were prettier than the bird next door. To me they seemed so excited about the sun coming up and a new day dawning....that they couldn't even wait for that actual moment to occur. They didn't wait to get dressed. They danced in their underwear.<br />
<br />
So there I stood on my porch in my holey pajamas....(that's holey not holy), closed my eyes, raised my hands and saw David dance in the sounds of the birds. Oh God, let us seek only to please you, to offer you our praise even in the dark, even at odd times...even when everyone around us might look at the tattered and torn nest of our life and say "that is one crazy bird." They can't hear the sound of you singing over me...but I can. And so I dance.<br />
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<br />KC Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04143052565379566551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971926625363738281.post-38229734570813451732013-05-03T10:08:00.001-07:002013-08-12T12:12:37.655-07:00Lifting The Light<b>This has been one of our most read posts and we are reprinting it with a little updating in both text and images. Please take a moment and read the "letter" God gave me a year ago. It was all Him. I can't take credit for a single word. As Mama T (Mother Theresa) used to say..."I am a pencil in the hand of a writing God sending a love letter to the world."</b><i><br /></i><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>Whiteclay, Nebraska is a town of approximately 14 residents and 4 liquor stores. The first one </i><i> conveniently </i><i>sits
250 yards from the border of the "dry" Pine Ridge Indian Reservation; a
reservation that has been shattered into a million little pieces by the
ravages of alcoholism. If Whiteclay could read...I might send it an
e-mail something like this....</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
To: hey-i-am-not-breaking-any-laws@shame-on-you.com<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Dear Whiteclay,<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h1chQxScQ1Q/T24Tc19n34I/AAAAAAAAAw8/nEQK7-mWEZs/s1600/Lakota+Center+for+Progress.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div>
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kWmQEvOiit4/T24TLkcVTPI/AAAAAAAAAws/Etuc8nwE0zY/s1600/x_whiteclay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kWmQEvOiit4/T24TLkcVTPI/AAAAAAAAAws/Etuc8nwE0zY/s320/x_whiteclay.jpg" width="320" /></a>You
don't know me...and sometimes I wish I didn't know you. But I have walked
your streets, talked to your homeless, slept in your zip code, and
prayed in your fields. I know you perhaps better than you know
yourself. You're not fooling anyone. You fly the flag of capitalism
(and when no one is looking you salute it), defending yourself all the
way to the bank. In the way that matters to you, you are successful. In
the way that matters to anyone who has seen you at work....you are the
equivalent of<br />
twist-off-top atomic bomb. They hand you a few
dollars and you hand them destruction as complete as Hiroshima...only
no one comes back to rebuild the nation.<br />
<br />
The first
time I met you, you frightened me, I'll admit it. I locked my car
doors, didn't make eye contact and set my GPS to find the corner of
"get me the hell out of here" and "what was I thinking?" I was kinda
hoping I wouldn't run into you again, but it seemed everywhere I turned
on the Pine Ridge Reservation I met people who had visited your house. What kind of neighbor,
knowing the house next door was made of flammable material, would pour
gasoline on it...and light a match? <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lFxhDjnOG5Y/T24TSSwLUMI/AAAAAAAAAw0/25ZmflvI9A8/s1600/whiteclay3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lFxhDjnOG5Y/T24TSSwLUMI/AAAAAAAAAw0/25ZmflvI9A8/s1600/whiteclay3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>But
here's the deal. My God is here to put you on notice. I believe there are
spirits in the invisible realm. I believe some are so petty that a
thousand of them could fit in my shoe. I also believe some are huge,
having fed themselves on injustice and evil for many generations. They
have gorged on unforgiveness and fear and washed it down with
hopelessness. When they open their wings they cover an entire
valley....or an entire First Nation. There is a darkness to their
shadows that lingers.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dNag0pFPneQ/UYPrh1ISKtI/AAAAAAAABL4/0TfZyZx9CKg/s1600/praying+on+the+porch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dNag0pFPneQ/UYPrh1ISKtI/AAAAAAAABL4/0TfZyZx9CKg/s320/praying+on+the+porch.jpg" width="180" /></a>But there is a renaissance afoot; a revolution
marching to the beat of creativity, original language, pride, and in
step with God and His Son and The Holy Spirit. The Lakota people you have tried your
best to destroy are determined to be a mighty Sioux Nation again. They
are warriors. God made them that way. They know how to stand and fight and they know how to get
on their knees...and fight. You are no match for the seventh
generation. You are no match for the Cross....and the God of the Angel
Armies. You think you are safely surrounded by the cloak of darkness
that will hide you...but in reality you are surrounded by armies of
light that can only be put into motion when the people pray. And the
people are praying, Whiteclay. From the four directions...they are praying.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5WzWF4s2OnM/UYPr0axXJvI/AAAAAAAABMI/X7me7YsBlQ4/s1600/cross+gutter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5WzWF4s2OnM/UYPr0axXJvI/AAAAAAAABMI/X7me7YsBlQ4/s320/cross+gutter.jpg" width="191" /></a>We may not be able to
foreclose on your physical residence, but we can take the streets back and there
is nothing you can do about. We will love you right out of the
neighborhood. Feed them, clothe them, visit them....you get the
picture. You tried more than once to shut down this pool of love, but
we are ripping off the "Keep out" sign and jumping in the deep end. As
a matter of fact your dark notoriety will be our diving board. For as
surely as the world has been stunned by the sight of the shattered
spirits you roll into ditches...it will have no choice but to take
notice of the love that pulls them out. Our hands are raised and we are shouting His name...which from what I have come to understand means that you have to go. Shriek, howl, curse....whatever you gotta do. The shadow of the Cross has fallen across your gutters and you have to go.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2_dBuYfbaaU/UYPrwGZDKiI/AAAAAAAABMA/bTzjQM8nA48/s1600/KC+and+Eli.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2_dBuYfbaaU/UYPrwGZDKiI/AAAAAAAABMA/bTzjQM8nA48/s320/KC+and+Eli.jpg" width="292" /></a>Pine Ridge will be a City on a Hill...a light to
show the way to other nations of First People. And you Whiteclay, the
dark room that you are....will have no choice but to give way to the
light. For when light enters a room...darkness has to flee. This is your notice. Consider yourself formally served.<br />
<br />
<br />
All For Him....KC Willis<br />
<br />
light-up-the-darkness@ordinaryclaypots.com <br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2_dBuYfbaaU/UYPrwGZDKiI/AAAAAAAABMA/bTzjQM8nA48/s1600/KC+and+Eli.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>If
you would like information on how you can help us with our work on The
Pine Ridge Indian Reservation, please e-mail us at
lightshinelakota@yahoo.com or visit www.kcwillisministries.ning.com. Pilamaya.</i>KC Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04143052565379566551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971926625363738281.post-89428907130724552102013-05-03T09:22:00.001-07:002013-05-03T09:22:37.873-07:00The Art PartPine Ridge has some amazing artists. Below are the few pieces that
are available now. If you see one you want just go to Paypal and do a
Send Money to me at lightshinelakota@yahoo.com. If the piece does not
say sold by the price it is still available. Thanks!!<br />
<br />
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Joe Pulliam original watercolor "Buffalo Tipi" 6x12 $100</div>
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Kevin Poor Bear original pastel 18x24 "All My Relations" $275</div>
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Kevin Poor Bear original pastel "Eagle Rising" 18 x24 $240<br />
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Donovan White Eyes DreamCatcher....$125<br />
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Kevin Poor Bear Acrylic on canvas 16x20 $250<br />
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Merle Locke original watercolor 18x24 framed $280KC Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04143052565379566551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971926625363738281.post-3932869296120803282013-03-23T12:45:00.001-07:002013-03-23T12:45:41.214-07:00KC Willis Workshops at The Retreat at Mustang Shadows<p>In order to spend more time on the Reservation, I stopped traveling around the country and teaching art workshops about a year ago. But now I have found a beautiful place in the Cascade Valley of South Dakota...sitting right on the Cheyenne River where I can hold a few classes a year and still be close to the Rez.</p>
<p></p>
<p><a target="_self" href="http://api.ning.com/files/O55D1Wr7*l8sTbLUXYzWavMZxYcJmpU8I0phe9vuHrHrSIxFniVHPEx5Ot6PS*nw2GZOzB5DDVBdA6MEz1GHl2BJl6ZdBUnK/viewwindows.jpg"><img class="align-left" src="http://api.ning.com/files/O55D1Wr7*l8sTbLUXYzWavMZxYcJmpU8I0phe9vuHrHrSIxFniVHPEx5Ot6PS*nw2GZOzB5DDVBdA6MEz1GHl2BJl6ZdBUnK/viewwindows.jpg?width=333" width="333" /></a>Nestled up against the land that is home to The Black Hills Wild Horse Sanctuary, The Retreat at Mustang Shadows is the perfect place for a workshop of art or a rebirth of the spirit...or perhaps both! Each class is limited to 5 and accommodations at this beautiful ranch are included in the price. With such a limited workshop size and the fact that I don't teach very much any more...the workshops will very likely fill fast, so reserve your spot today for a once in a lifetime experience.</p>
<p><a target="_self" href="http://api.ning.com:80/files/O55D1Wr7*l83Vsrn0F6tFwosC5yeodHX7a2i-0Svka3N7XBP9imKfGFqrwM5cVDpdJb4-YOhSZ*IdvKPre26kXVoB7ADSRf*/MarleyenjoyingCheyenneRiverfrombluff.jpg"><img class="align-right" src="http://api.ning.com:80/files/O55D1Wr7*l83Vsrn0F6tFwosC5yeodHX7a2i-0Svka3N7XBP9imKfGFqrwM5cVDpdJb4-YOhSZ*IdvKPre26kXVoB7ADSRf*/MarleyenjoyingCheyenneRiverfrombluff.jpg?width=333" width="333" /></a></p>
<p>Workshops are 2 1/2 days long and include 3 nights at the ranch house and breakfast and lunch. We will most likely go out for dinner in the nearby town of Hot Springs, SD. If you want to stay an extra day or two and visit the Wild Horse Sanctuary and/or spend a day on the Pine Ridge Reservation with me, you may do so for and extra per-night fee.</p>
<p><a target="_self" href="http://api.ning.com:80/files/O55D1Wr7*l-tcP0nr2Fqq65XuNhkLsER4Xl2GW0KkFYSzID7227LFEvux4j3JsxpztZ7b1v3*kCdoUSpngWCzOHp*zWFcVd6/diningroom.jpg"><img class="align-center" src="http://api.ning.com:80/files/O55D1Wr7*l-tcP0nr2Fqq65XuNhkLsER4Xl2GW0KkFYSzID7227LFEvux4j3JsxpztZ7b1v3*kCdoUSpngWCzOHp*zWFcVd6/diningroom.jpg?width=333" width="333" /></a></p>
<p>Mornings will find us out on the deck or back patio having our coffee and watching the deer meander down to the Cheyenne River (which is at the bottom of the hill). Bald eagles nest in the buttes nearby. In the evening we can sit around the fire pit enjoying the silence of the ranch and the millions of stars that are visible on the South Dakota plains.</p>
<p>_______________________________________________________</p>
<p><strong>Collage in the Country</strong></p>
<p></p>
<p><a target="_self" href="http://api.ning.com:80/files/O55D1Wr7*l-xZbY0yMehSZJJ8Ci4AdgfNdJp1Xzq*gglctUFye0rsMyHlr9uQlvpdcoxnkzWAXIohLW9jjWCq0zOUYo4OQQf/TheCowboy.jpg"><img class="align-left" src="http://api.ning.com:80/files/O55D1Wr7*l-xZbY0yMehSZJJ8Ci4AdgfNdJp1Xzq*gglctUFye0rsMyHlr9uQlvpdcoxnkzWAXIohLW9jjWCq0zOUYo4OQQf/TheCowboy.jpg?width=345" width="345" /></a>In a setting that has history written all over it, what better place to create a piece of work that is aged, full of story and beauty. Using photographs of your family's history or choosing one of mine from the history of this area or of the Lakota people, we will create a textured piece of art that will remind you of your time on the ranch forever. A half day of the class will be a writing class where we will create a poem, a letter or a short-short story based on our image and tuck it into the piece. We will also walk the area a bit and collect things from the grounds and create a piece that allows found objects, meant to never be used again, to become a piece of art. <a target="_self" href="http://api.ning.com:80/files/O55D1Wr7*l-G0MBWcJl8l3yvyKVbijvUGSOuBGSoTbF79Ghe7CE6Q82k3L*iCFtBUD5DdvjkbBvm-F0axZ1E1MTC84WPnGIp/Saloonshoe.jpg"><img class="align-right" src="http://api.ning.com:80/files/O55D1Wr7*l-G0MBWcJl8l3yvyKVbijvUGSOuBGSoTbF79Ghe7CE6Q82k3L*iCFtBUD5DdvjkbBvm-F0axZ1E1MTC84WPnGIp/Saloonshoe.jpg?width=255" width="255" /></a></p>
<p></p>
<p>While this obviously the Wild West here, your work does not have to be western in theme.</p>
<p></p>
<p>The point of the workshop is as much about rejuvenating your spirit, your creative life and your future, as it is about making art. Join me. Things just might not ever be quite the same again.<a target="_self" href="http://api.ning.com:80/files/O55D1Wr7*l9Jw84wNYHPKflWR1SHWotVPrd7Sn3rLr6Cww17IqinNobJp3MF1hQwPtJfRVmpMLy9Lx108OV9UydXxjp73RHI/EarofCornart.JPG"><img class="align-full" src="http://api.ning.com:80/files/O55D1Wr7*l9Jw84wNYHPKflWR1SHWotVPrd7Sn3rLr6Cww17IqinNobJp3MF1hQwPtJfRVmpMLy9Lx108OV9UydXxjp73RHI/EarofCornart.JPG?width=444" width="444" /></a></p>
<p><span style="text-decoration: underline;">Retreat Dates:</span></p>
<p>The first day of the retreat begins at 3 pm and goes til 7. Arrive by 2. You can fly into Rapid City, which is only 45 minutes from The Ranch. If the dates below don't work for you or your friends, it is possible to book a workshop retreat just for your group on an agreed upon date. Needs to be a minimum of 3 and price does not change. List the dates you are paying for on your Paypal payment or e-me.</p>
<p></p>
<p>May 17-19, 2013</p>
<p>July 11-13, 2013</p>
<p>September 19-20, 2013</p>
<p>November 1-3, 2013</p>
<p></p>
<p>Workshop and bed/breakfast for 3 nights...$620</p>
<p>Each additional night on the Ranch is $100 (includes breakfast and lunch and transportation to Pine Ridge).</p>
<p></p>
<p>To reserve your spot pay in full using the Paypal button or e-me at lightshinelakota@yahoo.com to use a credit card over the phone. If you know you want to spend an additional day or 2 and go to the Rez with me, you can pay for the additional now or let me know no later than 30 days before the class.</p>
<p></p>
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Each additional night at the Ranch....$100
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<p><b> ___________________________________________________</b></p>
<p><b>The Fabric of Faith...Five Smooth Stones.</b></p>
<p></p>
<p>This is a great opportunity to participate in a multi-layered study of Grace, Faith and beating the giants in your life, while creating a mixed media collage piece. In this 2 day class, held at The Ranch (shown above) KC Willis will walk you through a teaching of David and his life, along with a whole new way to look at the scraps collected by The Twelve on the day Jesus fed the 5000. Together these two teachings will offer you an insight into your past, present and future that may very well change how you see your world and its problems...and remove any walls you may have between you and the power of God.</p>
<p><a data-blogger-escaped-target="_self" href="http://api.ning.com/files/KbU6xmJW41BlVHXe5sCJo-6q7dgdB3E3o5F0fBKAIdxM2jkkbLZyuiXdZkR3sHY1Sl*KclO48G8XthSzTt8Go2Y9bdlndsH1/IMG_20121208_075318.jpg"><img class="align-full" src="http://api.ning.com/files/KbU6xmJW41BlVHXe5sCJo-6q7dgdB3E3o5F0fBKAIdxM2jkkbLZyuiXdZkR3sHY1Sl*KclO48G8XthSzTt8Go2Y9bdlndsH1/IMG_20121208_075318.jpg?width=444" width="387" height="499" /></a></p>
<p>Step by step the conference will explore techniques in collage and mixed media through the creation of a Teaching Tapestry. A Tapestry that will be built on creative skills and the lessons learned from David's flaws, failures and fearlessness, brought to completion in the teachings and the life of Christ. Under each piece of fabric will be a lesson learned from the scraps we have taken onto our own boat as we make our journey in this world and each will determine the strengths we have in the form of our own 5 smooth stones that we carry inside. The scrolls on the piece will house private thoughts on facing the giants...new ways of conquering that you will discover in the workshop. Learn how to "kill" at fabric collage and slay a few giants in your life in this powerful and fun 2 day workshop held in The Black Hills of South Dakota.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Accommodations at the Ranch are included in the price of the conference. You may schedule to stay an extra day or 2 and go with me to the Pine Ridge Reservation (45 minutes away) and/or visit The Black Hills Wild Horse Sanctuary adjacent to Mustang Shadows. The only charge for the additional days is the price to for room and board at the Ranch. $100 per night.</p>
<p></p>
<p>The Fabric of Faith will be held August 12-13,2013.</p>
<p></p>
<p></p>
$470
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KC Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04143052565379566551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971926625363738281.post-19971197731845394742013-01-01T11:39:00.004-08:002013-01-01T11:39:41.891-08:00Rez Images 2012<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/LLbherw5EZA" width="560"></iframe>KC Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04143052565379566551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971926625363738281.post-51803773667283189792012-12-29T17:03:00.000-08:002014-01-03T19:43:15.058-08:00Rez Dogs...A Love Story<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NPC39X5Tqgg/UN-GqilKKiI/AAAAAAAAA_o/oZLFf4qQJHQ/s1600/megs:protector.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NPC39X5Tqgg/UN-GqilKKiI/AAAAAAAAA_o/oZLFf4qQJHQ/s320/megs:protector.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meghan and Protector</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
If you are an animal lover, the Pine Ridge Reservation can be a tough
place to be. Dogs by themselves and in packs are a common sight. In
the summer they are hot, hungry, and scared. And in the winter they are
cold, hungry, and scared. There is no shelter, no spay and neuter
program and animal control is an occasional rounding-up of strays, who
are then taken out to the dump and shot. The dump is also where
unwanted dogs and puppies are...well...dumped. Hundreds and hundreds
of animals do not survive their first year on the Rez.<br />
<br />
But thanks to
dedicated Lakota animal lovers on Pine Ridge, a wonderful Native man
who scours the dump, locals who help injured dogs and a rancher from nearby Gordon named
Miss Jean, hundreds, if not thousands of Rez dogs have been saved and
are living in homes all across America - including mine. Miss Jean has
been known to race the 50 miles to the Rez, when she gets wind of an
impending “sweep” of the strays and fills up her truck with as many
dogs as she can get her hands on. Sometimes going many miles into the heart of the
reservation to find the “lost ones”...those who are wandering in the
middle of nowhere far from any handouts or trash cans. It was in one
such remote location that my friend Charlie Yellowbird and I were
driving one day, when we had to slow down as 2 skinny dogs crossed the
road in the middle of nowhere.<br />
<br />
Charlie spoke under his breath more
to himself than to me.<br />
<br />
“Survivors”, he whispered, never taking his eyes
off the dogs. He was honoring them with the word; perhaps he recognized
himself as the third member of the pack. Survivors all.<br />
<br />
But nowhere on the Rez is this word more appropriate
than for the dogs and the humans who live on the streets of Whiteclay.
A mere 1000 yards off the Rez, Whiteclay, Nebraska is home to 14
permanent residents who have roofs over their heads. It is also home to 30 or
so who call the streets and the abandoned houses that dot the two-block-long town...home. At any given time there are a dozen adult dogs and an
assortment of puppies trying to survive the summer, but most won't
survive the winter. The Rising Warriors of the streets are family we
know and love, and to many of them the street dogs are their family. They share
their food with the strays, name them, sleep with them and on more than one
occasion have covered the dead body of a dog with the one blanket they possess. The streets of Whiteclay
are dark and violent for man, woman and dog. For every dog who has
someone who loves them, there are two dogs who are chased off, kicked,
punched and cussed at; dogs who will not know a gentle touch unless
someone places a blanket over them when their street hell is over.<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HlgIKpIaIk8/UN-G5M8wqwI/AAAAAAAAA_4/i0zF1xXrYDw/s1600/DSCF4561.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HlgIKpIaIk8/UN-G5M8wqwI/AAAAAAAAA_4/i0zF1xXrYDw/s1600/DSCF4561.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HlgIKpIaIk8/UN-G5M8wqwI/AAAAAAAAA_4/i0zF1xXrYDw/s320/DSCF4561.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Protector</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
But one four legged girl has it better than most. She is loved by he Rising Warriors...even<br />
revered.
They call her “Protector”. Rumor has it, that when bad spirits try to
get into the abandoned house where they sleep, Protector will bark and
scare them off. Many know her, some love her, but to Robert Little
Crow, a beautiful soul whose address has been the streets of Whiteclay
for 15 years...she is his best friend. A former radical member of the American Indian Movement, (AIM) Robert these days is more likely to be found being sure Protector is free from ticks and is often seen limping across the street with an empty broken dish of some sort or another filled with water for "his girl." Feed Robert and you will be feeding Protector. <br />
<br />
More than once, we have rescued a starving dog from the Rez streets and
taken them out to Miss Jean's ranch, but it has never crossed my mind to
grab Protector; she belongs to Robert- she is his guardian angel. But
the week before Thanksgiving, myself, my niece Meghan and my nephew
Robert decided we were going to pluck a little black and white abandoned mutt named
“Oreo” off the streets before we headed back home. Simple enough?<br />
<br />
Not
so much. <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L9VClzAgak0/UN-JKkr1XaI/AAAAAAAABBA/_l8WFgZFxn4/s1600/DSCF4582.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L9VClzAgak0/UN-JKkr1XaI/AAAAAAAABBA/_l8WFgZFxn4/s320/DSCF4582.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oreo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Oreo had hung out all day long in front of our building in Whiteclay, but now
that it was time to dog-nap her she was nowhere in sight. Neither was
the other pup, Essie, we had decided needed to get off the streets, who seemed to have gotten wind of an ensuing liberation and stuck by our side all day.<br />
<br />
My nephew
came in and said. “We have to go if we are gonna get out to the ranch
before dark, but the dogs aren’t here.”<br />
<br />
Not only were the two we wanted
not there...there was not a stray in sight. I had never seen that
before. Streets completely void of dogs. “Let’s pray ‘ em in!” I said with a laugh, but began to do just that.
All of a sudden dogs appeared from behind buildings, from under cars and the two we
wanted, walked right up to us. What happened next was just a little extra “God thing” thrown in to
remind us who was in charge of the rescuing around here.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Je0XxmdmpHM/UN-NgAHxK_I/AAAAAAAABBQ/IHYMcucHXoQ/s1600/Robert+little+crow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Je0XxmdmpHM/UN-NgAHxK_I/AAAAAAAABBQ/IHYMcucHXoQ/s320/Robert+little+crow.jpg" width="184" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Robert Little Crow</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Robert Little Crow hurried across the street as fast as his two
bad legs would let him, “KC- wait!” he shouted. The three of us turned
around, concerned by the urgency in his voice. He kept talking as he crossed the street.<br />
<br />
“Take my girl!
Please! Take my girl! She’s gonna have puppies. The last litter froze to death.” He had tears in his eyes.
“Please get her out of here. We’ve spent two winters together in that
basement over there. But she needs a better life than this.” <br />
<br />
So do you, I thought to myself.<br />
<br />
“Are you sure?” I asked, not knowing if she would come to us, let alone allow us to pick her up to put her in the truck. Robert seemed to read my mind and he started to call her name. She
appeared in seconds, answering the call of her trusted friend. <br />
<br />
Robert knelt beside her hugging her. “I’ll miss her, I’ll miss her.”
He kept repeating, tears streaming down his face. Now you have to
understand...when you live on the streets of Whiteclay you pretty much
own nothing. Maybe you’ve been able to keep a backpack with a handful
of this and that from being stolen while you were passed out drunk.
Everything Robert owned and loved-he was hugging.<br />
<br />
Without saying another word, he lifted Protector and put her in the
truck. Just like that her new life had begun...and just like that
Robert Little Crow became my hero. <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5hRtGW5lOZo/UN-ICiOp3jI/AAAAAAAABAk/tMLrdIKq8xY/s1600/IMG_0186.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5hRtGW5lOZo/UN-ICiOp3jI/AAAAAAAABAk/tMLrdIKq8xY/s320/IMG_0186.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meghan and Essie on her rescue ride</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Miss Jean’s ranch is
miles off the main highway and then miles more into the center of the
vast ranchlands outside Gordon, NE. In the back of our borrowed van were 3 dogs who had never been in a vehicle in their lives, who
had never been put in a small space with other dogs and the sometimes-to-be-feared humans. My nephew, Robert crawled in the back with two of them and
Meghan held one in her lap. Protector took quite awhile before she
relaxed enough to lay down. An hour and many miles on gravel roads
later, we delivered the comandeered canines to Miss Jean’s ranch where they were sure to spend this night safe, fed and warm for the
first time in their lives. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I couldn’t wait to tell Robert Little Crow how content Protector
seemed and to be and thank him again for what he had done for her and her unborn
litter. But what COULD wait was my telling him two days later...with temps
in the single digits at night...that Protector had vanished; in the dark
and the cold, more in the middle of nowhere than ever. Was she looking
for Robert? Who knows. She was just gone.<br />
<br />
Miss Jean looked for her for days; hours every day, she was so
distraught. Never in 25 years of rescuing dogs had she had a
“non-feral” dog just vanish. All I could think about was how Protector
would not have had any way of knowing how remote of an area she was in.
I imagined her hungry, cold, pregnant and lost wandering the vast plains until she couldn’t. I prayed for God to keep her safe, I placed
angels around her (I do that alot) and I asked Him not to let her
suffer. I knew we had done the right thing, but I still felt guilty.<br />
<br />
A week later Jean stopped looking and I stopped praying.
Protector was gone. God was in charge, as He always is. He knew where
she was and he had not let her suffer. I was sure of it. He had
protected Protector.<br />
<br />
Two days ago it had been exactly a month since
Protector had vanished into thin air. Robert, Meghan and I have been back in Colorado
this whole time and I have not seen Robert Little Crow. He did not know
that we had lost “his girl.” At night in my prayers, when I placed
angels around Robert (and Eli and Donovan and Granny Back Pack etc.)
I prayed that God would give me the right words to tell him when the
moment came. <br />
<br />
But thanks to Miss Jean's words on the other end of the phone...those words would not be necessary.<br />
<br />
“You’ll never guess who is in my living room!” she said excitedly....and I knew immediately.<br />
<br />
“What the heck!” was all I could say.<br />
<br />
A friend of Miss Jean’s had been feeding a stray at the hospital for
over a week, thinking it belonged to one of his employees. Earlier that
day when he saw the guy he pointed to the dog and told him he shouldn’t
let his dog run loose like that.<br />
<br />
His employee said “That’s not my dog.” I'd like to think God then commented, “No... that’s <i>my </i>dog.”<br />
<br />
Jean’s
friend immediately scooped up the cold, hungry dog and took her to the
only place to take a dog... Miss Jean's house.<br />
<br />
“I can’t imagine what she must have been through.” Jean just kept
saying over and over again. “It was so cold the first few nights after
she disappeared. And Gordon is over 15 miles away!” <br />
<br />
After examing Protector, Jean concluded that she was no longer pregnant
and we had to assume the puppies hadn’t survived, as it didn’t appear
Mama Dog was nursing. But Mama Dog was alive. Robert’s girl was alive.
What an amazing end to an amazing story we all kept saying. Amazing?
Yes. The end?<br />
<br />
Not so much.<br />
<br />
Protector slept in front of the fireplace for several hours,
seemingly exhausted and not anxious in the least...at first. But
suddenly she was up, pacing by the door, unable to settle back down. On
a hunch born of rescuing thousands of dogs, Jean examined Protector
again.<br />
<br />
Milk. She was producing milk.<br />
<br />
She quickly called her friend back at the hospital. “Can you show me
exactly where you have seen this dog over the past week?”<br />
<br />
“Sure- why?” he asked.<br />
<br />
“I believe there are puppies out there.” She answered before racing out the door...Mama Dog on her heels. Over gravel roads the 15 miles to Gordon will
take you a half an hour.<br />
<br />
When Jean parked the car in front of the small hospital and opened
the car door, Protector took off down the street. So did Jean, on
foot...on a mission. <br />
<br />
For well over an hour, she tried to keep up with Protector as she ran
through backyards, up streets, down streets, sniffing out front porches,
almost loosing sight of her several times. Finally, they turned a corner and
Protector raced toward an abandoned house. Jean grabbed her hind
quarters as she tried to get under the house in a small dug-out
opening. Jean held onto Protector afraid that if she got inside the
house she might refuse to come out. A phone call to the man who had
returned Protector, brought him on the run, along with a thin, young man
he worked with...who could fit in the opening.<br />
<br />
“Are you sitting down?” said a voice on the other end of the
phone. “Seriously. Sit down.”<br />
<br />
“Ok”, I said, pulling up a stool in the
kitchen. <br />
<br />
“There are five of them.” She laughed.<br />
<br />
“Five what?” I asked, even as I knew what she was going to say.<br />
<br />
“Five puppies! Protector has 5 fat, healthy puppies!”<br />
<br />
Five. The number of grace.<br />
<br />
Protector.<br />
<br />
Robert's girl.<br />
<br />
Mama Dog.<br />
<br />
Surrounded by angels...<br />
<br />
by prayers...<br />
<br />
by people who care.<br />
<br />
Protector.<br />
<br />
Protected.<br />
<br />
Whisper out loud with me...<br />
<br />
“Survivor.”<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />
Epilogue:<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qF_91VYBnn4/UN-N9mnI30I/AAAAAAAABBY/4iaXp1yHd-o/s1600/dogs-jean.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="186" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qF_91VYBnn4/UN-N9mnI30I/AAAAAAAABBY/4iaXp1yHd-o/s200/dogs-jean.jpg" width="200" /></a> If you would like to help us help the dogs on the Rez, you may <a href="http://gofundme.com/61drcc">donate to the dog rescue</a> we now have with Miss Jean....LightShine Canine. Visit us on FaceBook to see more pics of amazing dogs that have been rescued...redeemed and are ready to go..and of the Lakota young adults helping us. <a href="http://gofundme.com/61drcc">Go here</a> to help us update the housing and fencing for the dogs on The Ranch....our much loved Mercy Mutts.<br />
<br />
<br />
<form action="https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr" method="post">
<input name="cmd" type="hidden" value="_s-xclick" /> <input name="hosted_button_id" type="hidden" value="D6Y9SAC52VRYE" /> </form>
<b>Protector and her puppies, along with Oreo and Essie, all have found good homes. Protector is being loved on a ranch in southern Nebraska....and Robert Little Crow was able to see pictures of her and her puppies and know they were cared for, before he too found a new home in Rapid City with a daughter who finally found him. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Protector is a special, special dog. Please share her story.</b>KC Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04143052565379566551noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971926625363738281.post-21268856149449659112012-07-04T11:54:00.004-07:002012-07-04T11:54:50.569-07:00To The Left Can Be Right<i>(Revised)</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<br />
I don't know if you've noticed lately, but there
is a bit of a revolution going on in the world of Believers who
are not satisfied with what is being done today in the name of
Christianity. It's a simmering stew of folks from all walks of life who
are looking at this whole thing a little differently. And when I say
simmering, I don't mean as about to boil into an angry mob, I mean
simmering as in slow-cooking, great smells in the air all day, ready
for a feast when it's ready-type simmering. It's a Love Stew and it's
on the menu in cities big and small all over the country; a menu that
does not say "we reserve the right to refuse service to everyone."
Actually living the life of the Jesus we claim to follow is the main
course and knowing we are walking His way is the dessert. <br />
<br />
Way
back in the late 60's, I was part of an amazing thing that moved across
America. Hippies found Jesus and suddenly The Way of the Master was a
cool thing and the Jesus Movement somehow made its way into even my
little Southern Baptist church in Kenosha, Wisconsin. I was about
14-ish when I heard my first message by a groovy guy with hair long
enough to give Moses a run for his manna...and being a girl who never
in her life had the word cool attached to a sentence with her name in
it...well I was hooked. Here was a way....One Way...as we groovy people
called it...to love me some Jesus and be accepted all in one fell
swoop. <br />
<br />
But a revolution, as this surely was, by
definition means turning the people around to a whole new way of life
and leaving the old behind. The Jesus Movement didn't go over so well
with the old guard who wanted things to stay the same. We had a new
American Revolution on the march....one that took the words of Jesus
seriously. ("The Red Letters are coming! The Red Letters are
coming!") Some didn't like these young up-starts telling them how to
love their neighbor. They knew perfectly well how to do that...as long
as neighbor was defined as someone who looked like you, talked like you
and didn't rock the boat you had built. They were not so big on
melding a family out of just any old material. The Anointed Groovy Ones
tried to show them a different way....a way of accepting all peoples
and reaching out to the least of these...not just bringing things to
the poor every Christmas, but asking the poor to join them every day of
the year. The Elders (those Non-Melders) didn't want those words
pointed out to them...at all. They stuck to their preferred passages
and ignored the ones about loving your neighbor and giving your coat to
the cold. I think they were just a little more comfy with a God who was
angry and cast people out...their kind of guy. <br />
<br />
I
see
it happening again....this 21st century version of the Jesus
Movement...complete with Jesus Freaks and enough Love to sink an
Ark...and enough anger coming back at us to remind us that this Walk is
not an easy one. That the anger is coming from fellow Christians is not
surprising...disappointing...but not surprising. Guess it's hard to
accept folks whose sin looks different from your sin.
I am old enough now to dig this
new revolution in a way I couldn't at 14. This time I get the
love-thing in a way that you can only get when you have spent your life
looking out for you....selfish...self-absorbed...me with a capital
M...like I have done.
Suddenly there is an answer to the dreariness that long ago took over
your interior weather patterns because YOU have been the only cloud in
the sky. Love 'em like Jesus. That's what's in my forecast...and it
doesn't even have to be hard! Just set out everyday to be kind to those
who cross your path. To help someone when you have the means to help
them. You can join us in our work on the <a href="http://www.kcwillisministries.ning.com/">Pine Ridge Reservation</a>
or you can serve up the meal of love and and caring right in your own
neighborhood. Do for one person what you wish you could do for everyone
and we could put an end to what so many fear....taking care of the
poor. That would <i>be</i> the war on poverty...and it would be won in the trenches of compassion.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
When
books like "Crazy Love", "Under the Overpass,"
Radical" and "Irresistible Revolution" are bestsellers...then I'm
feelin' the winds of change and I'm praying for a big ol' storm. When
you see it coming....don't run for the basement. Stand on the roof and
say "Here! Over Here!" I for one am truly welcoming this revolution
that is sick and tired of things being done in the name of Jesus that
don't have anything to do with the life He gave us as an example. Love.
He was all about the love. Mercy. Justice. Walk humbly with your God.<br />
<br />
<br />
I won't get it right all the time...but I will be doing something that matters with the days I have left.<br />
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<br />KC Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04143052565379566551noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971926625363738281.post-17580810178191244632012-05-20T19:52:00.000-07:002012-05-20T19:52:24.715-07:00The Book of EliThey call him the "Godfather of Whiteclay." He chuckles when
someone refers to him that way....but his eyes don't smile. He can
probably think of a lot of other things he'd rather be called than the
king of the streets in a place where the streets are dark even in
daylight; the place where the Lakota have committed death by Budwieser
for decades. I can usually smell him before I see him...and still I am
happy to see him. If you look at him through eyes that don't see him as
the gift he is, then he is torn and tattered and beyond saving. But
look again. His spirit shines through. With human contact and the
calling of his name...his spirit shines through. When he sees me he
says "There she is!" and <i>my</i> spirit shines through. I love him like the Son loves me...fully, joyfully, even when my sin makes me stink too.<br />
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<br />
<br />
Eli
is writing a book. You won't find it on Amazon, but you will see it
laid bare chapter by chapter if you will just take a few minutes and
speak to him.<br />
<br />
This chapter is entitled "Hell in a Handbasket."<br />
<br />
"Look
at our young men!" he cries out in a rare moment of sobriety, pointing
to the constant stream of the Seventh Generation coming and going at
the liquor store across the street from the building that houses my new
ministry. "They have no direction. No one to tell them go this
way...don't go that way." He shakes his head and mumbles in Lakota. "I
have been here for 28 years...longer than they have been alive. I would
tell them don't come here...but they won't listen to me."<br />
<br />
We
talk about how the respect he has on the streets could be used to
change the lives of these young men...but then we agree that the next
time he gets clean and sober he needs to stay away from here. "Yeah,
that's where I go wrong everytime," he admits. "I get sober and then I
come here to help before I am well enough to do that." We nod our
heads in unison and watch the stream across the way turn into a river.
Someone needs to put a "Deadly Undertow" sign on its banks.<br />
<br />
The
last day I was on the reservation, Eli had a seizure on the front porch
of our building and wrote a chapter called "All Is Grace." A woman
from the tribe came in to tell me. She spoke with the same urgency that
someone might have used to say they had found a pair of sunglasses in
the parking lot. Someone else called 911 and I went out to Eli. By
the time I got there he was coming out of it and his muscles were
hurting badly from the spasms. He was shouting to God at the top of his
lungs.<br />
<br />
"Grandfather! Grandfather! You want me? Come
and get me! Please come and get me! Why do you leave me here to
suffer?" I held his hand and he just hung his head and whispered.
"Grandfather. Grandfather. Grandfather." I found myself praying for
God to save Eli from this place. He drank three bottles of water and
quickly ate the sandwich we got for him. I went back inside to help
someone who had stopped by and needed diapers, and came back to check
on him. I heard him chuckle. "I can feel you coming. I know you are
there before I see you," he said. Spirits shining through.<br />
<br />
Once
he had collected himself he began to talk to me of a Father's love. Not
his earthly father...but Tunkashila...the God who created the man
called Eli. The eternal Grandfather. "I sleep in that old abandoned
house over there," he says. "I got nothing. But every morning when I
open my eyes I say thank you my Father for another day. Thank you my
Father for this gift. Today maybe I can help someone." He lowers his
head and clasps his hands together. "Just like this...I say thank you
my Father. And He takes me in his arms, brings me in the fold and says
he has not forgotten me. And I say again...thank you my father." <br />
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<br />
And
I say thank you, my friend. I think of you everyday. I pray for you
everyday and I can feel you praying for me. And now I will ask you,
dear reader, to dare to repeat Eli's words every morning yourself.
"Thank you my Father for this gift of another day. Today maybe I can
help someone."<br />
<br />
Do that...And you will see The Spirit shining through...on the wings of Eli Bald Eagle.<br />
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To see a 2 minute video of Eli on my Facebook page...<a href="https://www.facebook.com/lipstickranch#%21/photo.php?v=3454195386154&set=vb.1008888862&type=2&theater">click here</a>.KC Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04143052565379566551noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971926625363738281.post-90958875714243088232012-04-13T07:14:00.002-07:002012-04-13T07:14:52.101-07:00La Vida Lakota<span id="yiv2047851942role_document" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><i>My husband, Logan, took his time off and went with me to the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota last week. His first trip to a place most of America will never see. I wanted to share with you his perspective of the Rez I have come to know and love through the eyes of my spirit. This is a note he posted on his FB.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Freshly returned from vacation trip to the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation.<br />
<br />
Great learning experience. Gaining perspective was the whole point. Awesome discussions with new friends. Among other things, I saw why KC is excited about the potential for the artists there to re-shape their community's future (while supporting themselves, also).<br />
Personally, I discovered that the Lakota culture is not American culture, nor should it be. There are problems on Pine Ridge that have rooted themselves firmly into the fabric of Indian society. Most of America acknowledges this simple description from a distance, and without much reservation, to use a pun.<br />
<br />
However, most of America doesn't know this: The problems on the Rez need solutions that come from the Rez. There are so many stories (but also haunting physical effects, and even memorials -- more on that in days to come) about well-intentioned whites coming in and orchestrating reforms as they see fit. Iraq, anyone? Afghanistan? We arrogantly attempt to rebuild nations in our own image, without much thought to what already works. Or what's fair.<br />
Let's be blunt: These people have had their asses kicked. The reservation is what's left of a prisoner of war camp. Look it up. The tribes were broken apart, spread across a desolate landscape, and threatened with death if they left. When gold was found on their land, US gov't claimed it.<br />
<br />
If you think getting repeatedly screwed after being nearly wiped out would be a "downer" to most any race, think of how it affects a people of warriors. This, to me, is one of their greatest afflictions. While the majority of the women seem to be lively and motivated, many of the men are lost souls. Their spirits, by and large, have been crushed so deeply and so often, what's the point in trying to fight anymore? Pride is gone, honor long forgotten.<br />
<br />
This is where alcoholism begins to take root. For those of you who don't know, there is an 80% rate of it here. It is not the primary demon, as most social workers will tell you. It is a symptom of a larger problem.<br />
<br />
This is when the word "empowerment," so overused today, actually applies perfectly.<br />
Getting these people to help themselves is paramount. Finding effective means of recovery from within is essential. Americans pride themselves on hard work, of "pulling yourself up by your own bootstraps." The Lakota, psychologically speaking, are barefoot.<br />
Now, I've never been big on charity. But I recognize the difference between living and surviving. During my wife's winter trip, two people froze to death. It didn't even make the local paper, it's so prevalent and accepted. That's why I don't mind handing out coats and toilet paper. It's an emergency. But I'm always keeping an eye on the goal of empowerment.<br />
I don't want Lakotas to put on suits, open savings accounts and trade stocks. I want the Rez to have it's own economy, not America's.<br />
<br />
This Rez is such a food desert...what I found to be the most promising efforts there were gardens. Bruce Bonfleur is starting a greenhouse, and will give the people there the know-how and the tools for growing their own food. Shannon Freed (Colorado State alum, too) is creating an immensely self-sustaining system of composting, and has planted a "food forest" (not an orchard!).<br />
<br />
These are vital solutions. And certainly an improvement to the barren neighborhood I drove through in Sharp's Crossing. Here, where the food comes from the only convenience store within 20 miles, the families were watering dirt front yards in an attempt to imitate suburbia. <br />
<br />
That's a good deal of darkness to speak about, but there were many moments of levity also. There are bright, shiny people on the Rez like there are stars in the night sky. Good humor is often hard to come by with a serious-natured people in a bad situation.<br />
-- Leon Matthews, during a spirited discussion about Christianity's rejuvenation of, well, spirit...said Jesus had something of a "housing issue," too.<br />
-- One very large and presumably homeless Lakota woman, upon learning of our supplies, wondered if we could offer her a bikini. Her eyes disappeared when she broke out in laughter, her smile taking up all of her face.<br />
-- A proud father, Tyler LaForge, boasted of his 14-year-old son's academics while the young man, Justin, looked down and away. I was disheartened by Justin's lack of eye contact, his poor posture, his withdrawal. But when I prodded him to stick his chest out and brag for himself, he looked my in the eye, and grinned. A full-scale smile broke out when I encouraged a fist-bump. I will never, ever forget how quickly and fully he responded to me. He ran through the door when I opened it.<br />
Tyler, incidentally, cried on my wife's shoulder because we purchased a fan belt for the muffler-less '70's Cadillac that became his only mode of transportation, and which allowed him to work. <br />
Their family still lives without running water.<br />
-- We drove through Wounded Knee one time while the native radio station played "Funkytown." Hmmm...<br />
This station also played a full-length version of the old Hawaii 5-O theme song. Out...STANDING!<br />
-- My eyes watered at the sight of so many American flags on native graves. Veterans of all our wars are buried here. They fought for the country that almost exterminated them.<br />
One of the most promising artists here, Joe Pulliam, is a veteran. He told us he fought to honor his ancestors, all of whom had fought in their lives. His grandfather was especially proud of him, to know that he "had seen battle."<br />
Joe, a fantastic, up-and-coming watercolor artist, is cousin to Crazy Horse and great grandson to Black Elk, both legendary warriors.<br />
Today, Joe struggles with the idea of his military service, and shakes his head.<br />
-- I saw an article about a Native American music group that puts its own spin on blues, jazz, and rock. They tabbed it, Alter-Native.<br />
<br />
Lastly, KC and I stayed at the home of Bruce and Marsha Bonfleur (and son Brent). Fourteen years ago, they left family in Florida and moved with their two young children to the Rez, sight unseen. They were called, they say. Extremely hospitable and beautiful people.<br />
They are investing themselves in the Lakota. They are there 365-24-7. These are the people worth supporting. I wish all the missionaries, who come in the spirit of selflessness but then leave to return to their own lives, would grasp this: The Natives are weary of temporary intervention that does more to soothe the faith-based pursuits of well-wishers and do-gooders than it solves any real tribulations of the tribes. Missionaries are kind people, but to be effective, they should follow the guidance of the permanently entrenched like our Bruce and Marsha. "Lakota Hope," in case you want to see more.</span></span>KC Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04143052565379566551noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971926625363738281.post-21032091139837900702012-03-24T11:50:00.002-07:002013-08-12T11:49:56.805-07:00What I Might Say...To Whiteclay<i>Whiteclay, Nebraska is a town of approximately 14 residents and 4 liquor stores. The first one </i><i> conveniently </i><i>sits 250 yards from the border of the "dry" Pine Ridge Indian Reservation; a reservation that has been shattered into a million little pieces by the ravages of alcoholism. If Whiteclay could read...I might send it an e-mail something like this....</i><br />
<br />
<br />
To: hey-i-am-not-breaking-any-laws@shameonyou.com<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Dear Whiteclay,<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h1chQxScQ1Q/T24Tc19n34I/AAAAAAAAAw8/nEQK7-mWEZs/s1600/Lakota+Center+for+Progress.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div>
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kWmQEvOiit4/T24TLkcVTPI/AAAAAAAAAws/Etuc8nwE0zY/s1600/x_whiteclay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kWmQEvOiit4/T24TLkcVTPI/AAAAAAAAAws/Etuc8nwE0zY/s320/x_whiteclay.jpg" width="320" /></a>You don't me...and sometimes I wish I didn't know you. But I have walked your streets, talked to your homeless, slept in your zip code, and prayed in your fields. I know you perhaps better than you know yourself. You're not fooling anyone. You fly the flag of capitalism (and when no one is looking you salute it), defending yourself all the way to the bank. In the way that matters to you, you are successful. In the way that matters to anyone who has seen you at work....you are the equivalent of<br />
twist-off-top atomic bomb. They hand you a few dollars and you hand them destruction as complete as Hiroshima...only no one comes back to rebuild the nation.<br />
<br />
The first time I met you, you frightened me, I'll admit it. I locked my car doors, didn't make eye contact and set my GPS to find the corner of "get me the hell out of here" and "what was I thinking?" I was kinda hoping I wouldn't run into you again, but it seemed everywhere I turned on the Pine Ridge Reservation I met people who had visited your house. You really should work on being a better host. What kind of neighbor, knowing the house next door was made of flammable material, would pour gasoline on it...and light a match? <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lFxhDjnOG5Y/T24TSSwLUMI/AAAAAAAAAw0/25ZmflvI9A8/s1600/whiteclay3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lFxhDjnOG5Y/T24TSSwLUMI/AAAAAAAAAw0/25ZmflvI9A8/s1600/whiteclay3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lFxhDjnOG5Y/T24TSSwLUMI/AAAAAAAAAw0/25ZmflvI9A8/s320/whiteclay3.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
But here's the deal. I am here to put you on notice. I believe there are spirits in the invisible realm. I believe some are so petty that a thousand of them could fit in my shoe. I also believe some are huge, having fed themselves on injustice and evil for many generations. They have gorged on unforgiveness and fear and washed it down with hopelessness. When they open their wings they cover an entire valley....or an entire first nation. There is a darkness to their shadows that lingers. But there is a renaissance afoot; a revolution marching to the beat of creativity, original language, pride, and in step with the God and His Son. The Lakota people you have tried your best to destroy are determined to be a mighty Sioux Nation again. They are warriors. They know how to stand and fight and they know how to get on their knees...and fight. You are no match for the seventh generation. You are no match for the Cross....and the God of the Angel Armies. You think you are safely surrounded by the cloak of darkness that will hide you...but in reality you are surrounded by armies of light that can only be put into motion when the people pray. And the people are praying, Whiteclay. <br />
<br />
We may not be able to foreclose on your residence, but we can take the streets back and there is nothing you can do about. We will love you right out of the neighborhood. Feed them, clothe them, visit them....you get the picture. You tried more than once to shut down this pool of love, but we are ripping off the "Keep out" sign and jumping in the deep end. As a matter of fact your dark notoriety will be our diving board. For as surely as the world has been stunned by the sight of the shattered spirits you roll into ditches...it will have no choice but to take notice of the love that pulls them out.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h1chQxScQ1Q/T24Tc19n34I/AAAAAAAAAw8/nEQK7-mWEZs/s1600/Lakota+Center+for+Progress.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h1chQxScQ1Q/T24Tc19n34I/AAAAAAAAAw8/nEQK7-mWEZs/s320/Lakota+Center+for+Progress.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New home of Lakota Center For Progress...Whiteclay, NE</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Pine Ridge will be a City on a Hill...a light to show the way to other nations of first people. And you Whiteclay, the dark room that you are....will have no choice but to give way to the light. For when light enters a room...darkness has to flee. <br />
<br />
<br />
Buh-bye....KC Willis<br />
light-up-the-darkness@ordinaryclaypots.com <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>If you would like information on how you can help us with our work on The Pine Ridge Indian Reservation, please e-mail me at lakotacenter@yahoo.com. Thank you!</i>KC Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04143052565379566551noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971926625363738281.post-88622335975802482462011-09-21T20:53:00.000-07:002011-09-21T20:54:12.438-07:00Flag Instructions Now on a PDF!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0jwezlc4kDg/TnqxDwu78DI/AAAAAAAAAqg/S6-r2a8hbXM/s1600/finished+flag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="260" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0jwezlc4kDg/TnqxDwu78DI/AAAAAAAAAqg/S6-r2a8hbXM/s400/finished+flag.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Hi Everyone! Just a quick note here on the blog before I head out for Oklahoma City tomorrow. For those of you who wanted to make a flag, but didn't necessarily need the kit, I have created a step-by-step instruction PDF with how-to images that can be e-mailed to you. This is a super affordable way to take the flag class. The flag instructions with the full kit is very cool, but if you don't need the materials...here's a great way to learn all the tricks and techniques and make an awesome (and big) flag. Info on the front page of <a href="http://www.studioretreats.ning.com/">www.studioretreats.ning.com</a>. Love you. Mean it.KC Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04143052565379566551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971926625363738281.post-3141415697421244962011-09-15T16:45:00.000-07:002011-09-15T16:48:57.314-07:00North Texas Collage Conference<b><span class="font-size-2"><br />
</span></b><br />
<b><span class="font-size-2">Ft. Worth, Texas December 5-7, 2011</span></b><br />
<b><span class="font-size-2">Three days of Mixed Media Heaven with a dose of inspiration thrown in for good measure.</span></b><br />
<br />
Day One.....<br />
In the first day of our three day Conference on all thing collage we will begin a very special piece I call "The Women-The Flag." We will take coffee-stained fabrics and layer them together creating our version of the American flag...one that honors the women who were so important in making this country great. Teaching this class in Fort Worth is very special to me as the first flag I ever made was purchased by the Cowgirl Museum and unveiled as their commemoration on the first anniversary of Sept. 11th.<br />
<a _mce_href="http://api.ning.com:80/files/fKlV2*stZyYaH442-qWDbkDaIa*54OoxIPRhJPOJwVAv3C7TnvXiKZ6wJOmZwDeaqCMUID9scxMDKx2bpFghKUbzwsfRYTFa/flag.jpg" href="http://api.ning.com/files/fKlV2*stZyYaH442-qWDbkDaIa*54OoxIPRhJPOJwVAv3C7TnvXiKZ6wJOmZwDeaqCMUID9scxMDKx2bpFghKUbzwsfRYTFa/flag.jpg" target="_self"><img _mce_src="http://api.ning.com:80/files/fKlV2*stZyYaH442-qWDbkDaIa*54OoxIPRhJPOJwVAv3C7TnvXiKZ6wJOmZwDeaqCMUID9scxMDKx2bpFghKUbzwsfRYTFa/flag.jpg?width=380" class="align-full" src="http://api.ning.com/files/fKlV2*stZyYaH442-qWDbkDaIa*54OoxIPRhJPOJwVAv3C7TnvXiKZ6wJOmZwDeaqCMUID9scxMDKx2bpFghKUbzwsfRYTFa/flag.jpg?width=380" width="380" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
Day Two...<br />
On the second day we will complete our flag AND make a 12x18 wall piece, based on my signature style. Using a favorite photo I will teach you everything I do to age and layer for dramatic texture that looks a hundred years old.<br />
<a _mce_href="http://api.ning.com:80/files/WylV0f*tO5H-EONAwKR213KMTIirsyGV5akkcAMT7l51qQEw7qmTzR-ebaVr2WAczJgcbeqTedyvs-AAipKmY7JSuPl*J-uP/OneLittleRifle.jpg" href="http://api.ning.com/files/WylV0f*tO5H-EONAwKR213KMTIirsyGV5akkcAMT7l51qQEw7qmTzR-ebaVr2WAczJgcbeqTedyvs-AAipKmY7JSuPl*J-uP/OneLittleRifle.jpg" target="_self"><img _mce_src="http://api.ning.com:80/files/WylV0f*tO5H-EONAwKR213KMTIirsyGV5akkcAMT7l51qQEw7qmTzR-ebaVr2WAczJgcbeqTedyvs-AAipKmY7JSuPl*J-uP/OneLittleRifle.jpg?width=288" class="align-full" src="http://api.ning.com/files/WylV0f*tO5H-EONAwKR213KMTIirsyGV5akkcAMT7l51qQEw7qmTzR-ebaVr2WAczJgcbeqTedyvs-AAipKmY7JSuPl*J-uP/OneLittleRifle.jpg?width=288" width="288" /></a><br />
<br />
Day Three...<br />
This very special project is among the favorites of my students. Using a selection of old drawers and old boxes that I will bring with me (or bring your own if you come across something cool) we will use old fabrics, papers and embellishments to turn something ordinary into something extraordinary. I love making shrines. I will show you my techniques for applying paint that looks like it's been there forever. Below are a few I have made through the years.<br />
<a _mce_href="http://api.ning.com:80/files/STzPKBf4Aba12hkru8vt4zKYXlsgNJUA0gNnOamEDt4uInSfAGT7TyrfWTT9H5*Gj5U9ICEX3U-zQ8qPRTDk6MV4odRw1-ub/altar.jpg" href="http://api.ning.com/files/STzPKBf4Aba12hkru8vt4zKYXlsgNJUA0gNnOamEDt4uInSfAGT7TyrfWTT9H5*Gj5U9ICEX3U-zQ8qPRTDk6MV4odRw1-ub/altar.jpg" target="_self"><img _mce_src="http://api.ning.com:80/files/STzPKBf4Aba12hkru8vt4zKYXlsgNJUA0gNnOamEDt4uInSfAGT7TyrfWTT9H5*Gj5U9ICEX3U-zQ8qPRTDk6MV4odRw1-ub/altar.jpg?width=200" class="align-full" src="http://api.ning.com/files/STzPKBf4Aba12hkru8vt4zKYXlsgNJUA0gNnOamEDt4uInSfAGT7TyrfWTT9H5*Gj5U9ICEX3U-zQ8qPRTDk6MV4odRw1-ub/altar.jpg?width=200" width="200" /></a><a _mce_href="http://api.ning.com/files/gXIEIxgLTn9C2bE69lBm6KgxX7SL9wbrNxptEi8O6Lm2NliPYPjunU1lcFgXOI-NGqKVgVBtee2WmPmNKtiEnD-5-tG4xW2x/marthainabox.jpg" href="http://api.ning.com/files/gXIEIxgLTn9C2bE69lBm6KgxX7SL9wbrNxptEi8O6Lm2NliPYPjunU1lcFgXOI-NGqKVgVBtee2WmPmNKtiEnD-5-tG4xW2x/marthainabox.jpg" target="_self"><img _mce_src="http://api.ning.com/files/gXIEIxgLTn9C2bE69lBm6KgxX7SL9wbrNxptEi8O6Lm2NliPYPjunU1lcFgXOI-NGqKVgVBtee2WmPmNKtiEnD-5-tG4xW2x/marthainabox.jpg?width=222" class="align-full" src="http://api.ning.com/files/gXIEIxgLTn9C2bE69lBm6KgxX7SL9wbrNxptEi8O6Lm2NliPYPjunU1lcFgXOI-NGqKVgVBtee2WmPmNKtiEnD-5-tG4xW2x/marthainabox.jpg?width=222" width="222" /></a>Also on Day Three....a short session on "An Artist's Attitude" and great advice on marketing your work.<br />
<br />
The Conference will be held at a lovely community center in a private residential complex in the northern part of Ft. Worth. Address given when you register.<br />
<br />
This three day very special holiday Conference is only $340. Fee due at time of claiming your space (limited to 12) with $40 materials fees (I bring just about everything you will need) due at the time of each class. Use the Paypal button below or contact me at lipstickranch@yahoo.com to pay by check or directly with a credit card. See you in Texas!<br />
<br />
North Texas Collage Conference....$340<br />
<br />
<form action="https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr" method="post"><input name="cmd" type="hidden" value="_s-xclick" /> <input name="hosted_button_id" type="hidden" value="BL6TRGRQ7N6RU" /> <input _mce_src="https://www.paypalobjects.com/en_US/i/btn/btn_buynowCC_LG.gif" alt="PayPal - The safer, easier way to pay online!" border="0" name="submit" src="https://www.paypalobjects.com/en_US/i/btn/btn_buynowCC_LG.gif" type="image" /> <img _mce_src="https://www.paypalobjects.com/en_US/i/scr/pixel.gif" border="0" height="1" src="https://www.paypalobjects.com/en_US/i/scr/pixel.gif" width="1" /></form>KC Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04143052565379566551noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971926625363738281.post-4588062221342078612011-09-09T13:12:00.000-07:002011-09-09T13:12:17.666-07:00Art Retreat on Beautiful Florida FarmIf you have ever wanted to spend 2 days on a beautiful equestrian facility in the heart of Florida's horse country AND hang out with creative people while making very cool mixed media art....here's your shot. <br />
<form method="post"><strong><strong><strong></strong><b><br />
February 11-12, 2012</b></strong></strong></form><form method="post"><strong><strong><b> </b><br />
I have been hoping to book a workshop in central Florida for quite some time. And believe me....it was worth the wait. Join me as we spend two art-filled days smack-dab in the middle of one of the most beautiful horse farms in the southeast. (The last Triple Crown winner came from this farm).</strong></strong></form><form method="post"> <div style="text-align: left;"><strong><strong><img height="217" src="http://api.ning.com/files/a43a*IsAK0ekmfiuxbZU*aQddCU5VjNrbjjNPcj1lkaGTAGlA0SiO3yd06yort0LUusdu-7t9haPmf*tIzUPJ3rIGzyqXU2L/field.jpg" width="320" /></strong></strong></div><strong><strong><br />
In a class that is limited to 8 (and there are only 2 spaces left), we will have plenty of room to spread out both in the beautiful home where the workshop will be held and outside as we spend time together talking art and<br />
life.<br />
</strong></strong> <div style="text-align: left;"><strong><strong><img height="188" src="http://api.ning.com/files/TY6o7AiX2qZpgB1B4*AKlPas5B6ArT0ixEclIkVwO1L9Cluws7uANKwJSMH3ckaoLFZdOmTvfXNcxD4gaGLRup56aLpvKsOO/farmliving001.jpg" width="320" /></strong></strong></div><strong><strong>In this two-day workshop we will create several pieces of art using your favorite photographs. You will learn how to make a textured and "aged" piece of art and learn the techniques to<br />
not "over-think." Free Form fabric at its finest! You will leave with at least 2 pieces completed and enough motivation and inspiration to last you a long, long time.</strong></strong> <div style="text-align: left;"><strong><strong><img height="240" src="http://api.ning.com/files/xf7XEhfhlnaw6LUkB0VLLQByQRVPC9EcRcgKUjtdFFgzsPigU8E3gBM2efyarxB*t5os9yY6CaRNiJLUwFAYsYNFZw7*FYBB/farmliving003.jpg" width="320" /></strong></strong></div></form><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pj1E7MvHXRM/TmpuSzQSmgI/AAAAAAAAApM/2cV_2kkkC8c/s1600/gypsy+box.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pj1E7MvHXRM/TmpuSzQSmgI/AAAAAAAAApM/2cV_2kkkC8c/s320/gypsy+box.jpg" width="318" /></a></div><strong><strong> </strong></strong><br />
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<strong><strong>For all the info on this class and to grab one of the two remaining spaces....go to <a href="http://studioretreats.ning.com/page/on-the-road-20112012">http://studioretreats.ning.com/page/on-the-road-20112012</a>. Thanks so much!</strong></strong><br />
<strong><strong><br />
</strong></strong><br />
<strong><strong>KC</strong></strong><br />
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</strong></strong><br />
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</strong></strong>KC Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04143052565379566551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971926625363738281.post-89200286949854849332011-08-17T12:34:00.000-07:002011-09-21T15:50:19.152-07:00The Women...The Flag...The KitI'm pretty darn excited to teach my flag workshop for the first time as I travel this fall. Problem is there are only 3 towns right now scheduled to have that class and up 'til now I really didn't have an answer for those of you who e-mailed me and wished it was on-line. For the foreseeable future, I will not be recording any new workshops for on-line or DVD. Then I got to thinkin'....my piece "The Women-The Flag" is probably the only piece I make that more or less has a formula to it's concept and construction, instead of a creative free-for-all. :-) With detailed and easy to read written instructions, which I knew I could do... and photos of the process...this project is a perfect candidate for a kit with a short how-to-booklet. AND...you can e-me any time you have a questions. So instead of a video....and instead of traveling to a state you don't live in for a class (which I am not opposed to)...here's the kit and the instructions.<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K_uwCleuLRk/TkwF-gCWG8I/AAAAAAAAAo8/gCHqyaSkor0/s1600/flag.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K_uwCleuLRk/TkwF-gCWG8I/AAAAAAAAAo8/gCHqyaSkor0/s400/flag.jpg" width="400" /></a> <br />
<br />
The flag is a large piece approx 32"x50"... the size of a flag! The first one of these I ever made is in the permanent collection of the Cowgirl Museum in Ft. Worth. Instead of 50 stars I have 50 images of amazing western women. The kit will come with these 50 women or a version without so you can select and do your own. This version will have the transfer paper to print your own images. I make and sell about 20 of these a year for customers and they retail for $500-$600 dollars. In this kit you will have everything you need to make your flag, including great instructions and a "hotline" to me. Ok...so it's my personal e-mail address...but still...<br />
<br />
The Flag Kit Complete Version includes:<br />
<br />
32x50 canvas main-piece<br />
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An assortment of new and vintage cream fabrics for collaged stripes on flag<br />
<br />
Plenty of coffee-stained red ticking for stripes<br />
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Coffeestained blue ticking for behind the images<br />
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60 images (so you have a choice) of a western and pioneer women from all walks of life (some known and some unknown). These images are already transferred onto canvas for you.<br />
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Coffee stained heavier canvas to use for quotes on your flag if you decide to do that.<br />
<br />
Everything you need to make this amazing piece yourself and the step-by-step instructions. Cost: $155<br />
($120 if you don't want my printed images, but want to do your own). The instructions cover that, as well. <br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hPxnmvzmH0Q/TkwIkapmqaI/AAAAAAAAApA/UgL6skcmaZY/s1600/flag+workshop+kit+fabrics.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="301" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hPxnmvzmH0Q/TkwIkapmqaI/AAAAAAAAApA/UgL6skcmaZY/s320/flag+workshop+kit+fabrics.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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To purchase your kit visit the front page at www.studioretreats.ning.com. And to celebrate the launching of The Flag as Kit....all the <i>other</i> kits that I offer will be buy one get one free through August 30th. Sweet deal. Sweet flag. Make it. Hang it. Salute your skill!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K_uwCleuLRk/TkwF-gCWG8I/AAAAAAAAAo8/gCHqyaSkor0/s1600/flag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div>KC Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04143052565379566551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971926625363738281.post-43022383872276167372011-07-05T15:27:00.000-07:002011-07-13T12:18:51.106-07:00The Flag! Finally.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1n0VytIdODs/ThOOhB4HkKI/AAAAAAAAAok/A9Pvtb0l7UQ/s1600/flag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1n0VytIdODs/ThOOhB4HkKI/AAAAAAAAAok/A9Pvtb0l7UQ/s400/flag.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Right after 9/11 flags were everywhere and artists all over the country were doing their take on Old Glory. I thought about it for a couple of days, but then decided...."nah...I'm just not gonna go there." Everyone was doing something with the flag and I just didn't want to do what everyone was doing. Problem was in those couple of days I had gotten an idea...an idea that just wouldn't let me go...and it involved a flag. I had asked myself what would I do if I did a flag tribute that would honor the flag, but honor the spirit of the women that were the heart of my work...and where I could stay true to my signature style. I remember imagining 50 women for the 50 stars and wondering if I could do it in a way where the images wouldn't be too small. Only way to do that was to make the flag pretty good size. "Nah...I'm just not gonna go there." Or so I thought.<br />
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But the next thing I knew I was on Ebay trying to track down red ticking and figuring out how to get a whole bunch of pictures on one piece of transfer paper. I cleared off the one big table I had in my studio at the time and started to go there. When I saw the flag begin to come to life, I knew this was going to be a special piece. I called my friends at The Cowgirl Hall of Fame and Museum in Ft. Worth and told them what I was making and asked them if they wanted first shot at it when it was done. To make a long story short...I finished it in 3 days, sent them the not-exactly-crisp pic you see here and the first"The Women-The Flag" found a home in the permanent collection of the museum in September 2002. It was unveiled at a special ceremony they had on the one year anniversary of that fateful fall day and as far as I know it hangs there today. I have made a few since then and they hang in collections all over the country.<br />
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But...I have never taught a class on making the flag....until now.<br />
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So take a peek at the class info on my <a href="http://studioretreats.ning.com/page/colorado-workshops">workshop site.</a> There are several versions of the flag that you can do. At the moment the Flag Workshop is only being offered here in Colorado, but you might be able to twist my arm to have it on the road too. The class is very limited in size as each person needs a 6' table to themselves for this very cool project.<br />
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You will also see info on a version of Collage Camp where I will show you how to hand-tint your photo transfers.<br />
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To order a flag custom made for you....visit the Flag section at www.lipstickranch.com. <br />
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Thanks for checking this out gang. Love ya. Mean it.KC Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04143052565379566551noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971926625363738281.post-52301476733922153652011-06-21T10:58:00.000-07:002011-06-21T10:58:26.588-07:00Colorado Collage ConferenceHey there Friends.....Colorado Collage Conference begins this Friday here in Longmont, Colorado. Skies are bright blue, temps around 80 and snow still shows on the mountaintops on the west side of town. A last minute cancellation has opened up one spot. So if you were thinking about coming to all or part of this sure-to-be-amazing conference and saw that it had filled up....here's your chance! E-me at lipstickranch@yahoo.com and we can talk particulars. <br />
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We will have five days of art workshops, marketing seminars, including a class on Saturday with <b> The Incomparable Sarah Fishburn!</b> <br />
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Sarah is an internationally known artist who describes her work as Mixed-Media Narrative. Recognized for unexpected yet elegant combinations of bright colors, photographic images, spray paint, transparencies, and words, her work has been featured in numerous art magazines as well as in a shelf-full of books, including True Colors, Alphabetica and Transparent Art. Sarah collaborated with fellow artist, Angela Cartwright, to produce In This House and its sequel In This Garden, two books showcasing altered art imagery, and packed with collage techniques and explorations. Fishburn and Cartwright also co-publish (several times a year) Pasticcio, a lavish art zine featuring gorgeous artwork, technical articles, tips, treats, and even art history. <br />
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<b>Colorado Collage Conference</b> <b>Five Art and Info packed days</b> that could change your creative life forever. Join Sarah Fishburn and I at the very cool Old Firehouse Art Center in downtown Longmont. Located at 667 4th Avenue...All my favorite eateries are within a block or two. :-)<br />
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The small number that the conference is being limited to will allow some one-on-one time with each other. We will be available to answer your personal questions and encourage you directly. I don't know about you...but I like that!<br />
<div _mce_style="text-align: left;" style="text-align: left;"><a _mce_href="http://api.ning.com:80/files/pCPbEqVh8i-K3XZXfvxS-5BMYkzmqZ2Mj4Qe15vzv9Lw3IuzeOvLv*G0kJp08nDNnJbBn2QJZnn8OtWdwVBSnSg6RZMIZycE/old_firehouse_art_center.jpg" href="http://api.ning.com/files/pCPbEqVh8i-K3XZXfvxS-5BMYkzmqZ2Mj4Qe15vzv9Lw3IuzeOvLv*G0kJp08nDNnJbBn2QJZnn8OtWdwVBSnSg6RZMIZycE/old_firehouse_art_center.jpg" target="_self"> <img _mce_src="http://api.ning.com:80/files/pCPbEqVh8i-K3XZXfvxS-5BMYkzmqZ2Mj4Qe15vzv9Lw3IuzeOvLv*G0kJp08nDNnJbBn2QJZnn8OtWdwVBSnSg6RZMIZycE/old_firehouse_art_center.jpg" class="align-full" height="320" src="http://api.ning.com/files/pCPbEqVh8i-K3XZXfvxS-5BMYkzmqZ2Mj4Qe15vzv9Lw3IuzeOvLv*G0kJp08nDNnJbBn2QJZnn8OtWdwVBSnSg6RZMIZycE/old_firehouse_art_center.jpg" width="307" /></a></div><b><br />
Bring your Significant Compadre and he/she will find that we are surrounded by opportunities to go shopping, golfing, fishing, hiking, visit art galleries, check out Boulder...in other words we can keep them busy while you're at the Conference.</b><br />
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<u>Conference Schedule</u></b><br />
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<i>Day One....</i><br />
Opening Presentation..."Hold My Horse My Hair's On Fire!"<br />
My Story. Funny...empowering...full of hope. Storytelling that will make a difference.<br />
then...<br />
Free Form Collage<br />
Learn my techniques for taking your thinking cap off and developing and loving the improvisational skills needed to have your work take on a new and fun "edge." You will use your favorite photo (or one of mine) to create in a whole new way and at a whole new pace.<br />
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All of my art instruction classes are perfect for the beginner. No previous sewing skills needed...and you will get plenty of one-on-one with me.</b><br />
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If you have 45 seconds check this out! Should get you excited! <a _mce_href="http://blip.tv/file/1994328" href="http://blip.tv/file/1994328">http://blip.tv/file/1994328</a><br />
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<div _mce_style="text-align: left;" style="text-align: left;"><img _mce_src="http://api.ning.com:80/files/zvf*1W*6SvBAZPvhwHUR48VGjyAFffJdR3KUIk8-ibN8mkczrINAzFvTc3fXL-hdhUwpQXLzu4OMQ58pTox6IkCAD2sPB0eC/rebeccaandkc.jpg?width=694" height="320" src="http://api.ning.com/files/zvf*1W*6SvBAZPvhwHUR48VGjyAFffJdR3KUIk8-ibN8mkczrINAzFvTc3fXL-hdhUwpQXLzu4OMQ58pTox6IkCAD2sPB0eC/rebeccaandkc.jpg?width=694" width="308" /></div><br />
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<b><i>Day Two...</i></b><br />
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<b>Sarah Fishburn....Techniques and Transparencies..</b>.<br />
A fast-paced and exciting workshop where Sarah will show us her signature style in a sample book that you can take home and incorporate these great techniques into your work.<br />
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<b>Day Two will end with a group dinner with Sarah and I at one of my favorite restaurants for a great chance for us to talk and laugh and share and question</b>.<br />
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<i>Day Three.....</i><br />
Fabric Collage Book<br />
In this full day workshop we will create a multi-page mixed media book from scratch. Using coffee-stained canvas, new and vintage fabrics, papers and textured collages you will make a book to hold in your hands and tell a story from your heart.<br />
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With images of family, a beloved pet, your favorite flowers...whatever....let me show you how I make the books that I love. Here's a cover of one of my favorites.....</b> <div _mce_style="text-align: left;" style="text-align: left;"><img _mce_src="http://api.ning.com:80/files/hFLhdrjHVOvIkJMlG0bO8zNGOcXnhqzPCbXgphLJIrMKV2WNr6FqBJ3HVQRES44GdY1duL9jP1JrnYBpz-QWiA6CMW4is0I2/Bookcover.jpg" src="http://api.ning.com/files/hFLhdrjHVOvIkJMlG0bO8zNGOcXnhqzPCbXgphLJIrMKV2WNr6FqBJ3HVQRES44GdY1duL9jP1JrnYBpz-QWiA6CMW4is0I2/Bookcover.jpg" /></div><br />
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And then letting the images speak to us....we will learn to listen. From this will come our journaling, letters or quotes.<br />
<div _mce_style="text-align: left;" style="text-align: left;"><img _mce_src="http://api.ning.com:80/files/loC4AqhyhK7sa*0LcW-LxLjhTKq-raLv8bkO5p4E0RlxSGtMtoKggaq4eMeBgCwRSus5HyuJquuyiP3UmjU0btLdfSW8*blf/Bookinside.jpg" src="http://api.ning.com/files/loC4AqhyhK7sa*0LcW-LxLjhTKq-raLv8bkO5p4E0RlxSGtMtoKggaq4eMeBgCwRSus5HyuJquuyiP3UmjU0btLdfSW8*blf/Bookinside.jpg" /></div><br />
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<i>Day Four....</i>Finish up our Fabric books in the morning and after lunch...<br />
<b><i>Day Three....</i></b><br />
<b>Works on Paper</b>...Sewing Paper instead of Fabric. What a concept!<br />
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<div _mce_style="text-align: left;" style="text-align: left;"><img _mce_src="http://api.ning.com:80/files/B-VtWtiFL69KYWGja*atF2Lohp8MIy4y9fDk2jumRRCrXqAcbod-FBa*rYFYBRYMdfMTnJ1VWtWnMJDYoJw2C8Su5Qxvlr-f/paperintheworks.jpg?width=721" height="295" src="http://api.ning.com/files/B-VtWtiFL69KYWGja*atF2Lohp8MIy4y9fDk2jumRRCrXqAcbod-FBa*rYFYBRYMdfMTnJ1VWtWnMJDYoJw2C8Su5Qxvlr-f/paperintheworks.jpg?width=721" width="400" /></div><br />
I'll show you the papers that will take being coffee-stained, how to iron them, burn them, print on them and sew them together. Mounted on painted canvas it is a whole new approach to paper collage. And we will create an additional piece of fabric art where I will show you how to hand tint your photo transfers!<br />
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Day Five<br />
It's time for finding your Marketing Mindset. We will learn about developing a signature style, selling wholesale, consignment, galleries vs. shops, PR, licensing and making your presence felt on the internet with a stand-out blog. In this session I will work with you on making your blog writing or any writing....fun, inspirational and memorable. Let me show you my concepts, techniques and attitudes for writing words that people want to follow and for developing an attitude of resilience.<br />
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We will wrap up our five day Collage Conference with a couple of hours of Q&A and exchanging thoughts and dreams. I will present the end to "My" story that I began Day One in <b>"Hold My Horse My Hair's On Fire"</b> leaving you with thoughts to embolden, empower and energize you to new levels of creative zest.<br />
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Registration info is at www.studioretreats.ning.com. One spot left! First come...first coming!<br />
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Love you. Mean it.KC Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04143052565379566551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971926625363738281.post-85027502077926349182011-04-24T19:04:00.000-07:002011-04-24T19:04:53.771-07:00Blogging in the SheavesJoin me on a new journey on my <a href="http://trailerparktrinity.blogspot.com/2011/04/blogging-baptist-hymnal.html">new blog</a> The Trinity and The Trailer Park.KC Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04143052565379566551noreply@blogger.com0