Waking Up in Portland

Winter really kicks my ass sometimes. But it’s March 1st and I am laying in bed listening to rain on my roof and small birds chirp and shuffle in their shrubs. These birds have reliably chirped each morning for the past 3 weeks and serve as a reminder that life is out there. The ice storm covered Portland and melted. We made it. The birds still chirp. The first buds pop open.

So here is to new beginnings. I’m working at the Children’s Relief Nursery in St. John’s doing art with kids and I truly love it. I’m spending a lot of quiet time with friends, at North Portland Yoga and reading in my room. Here are some titles I’d like to share with you that helped me through this winter:

The Wild Iris by Louise Gluck

The Wisdom of No Escape by Pema Chodron

Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke

All of these titles are wildly sincere and encouraging. I’ve read the Wild Iris about 5 times and will undoubtedly read it 5 more. It gives me new eyes each spring as I watch the Oregon flora unfold.

Despite my tendency toward hibernation this winter, I’ve slowly began working with a new medium for my tooth sculptures. The sculptures are more resilient and I am gladly accepting orders for jewelry. You can find a few necklaces at Bridge & Burn or directly contact me for custom orders at edhallenterprises@gmail.com. I’d love to collaborate and see one of them around your or a loved one’s neck.

For now I am looking forward to Spring and the burst of energy it delivers. I am also greatly looking forward to getting back to the trails. I hope to see you on one or two or three of them. More updates, sculptures and illustrations here soon.

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Disco Molar Necklaces for Bridge & Burn

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Custom Disco Molar Necklace & Winter Light

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My Witchy Casa

My Love 2 You,

E.D.

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Remembering the Night

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Heaven was originally precisely that: the starry sky, dating back to the earliest Egyptian texts, which include magic spells that enable the soul to be sewn in the body of the great mother, Nut, literally “night,” like the seed of a plant, which is also a jewel and a star. The Greek Elysian fields derive from the same celestial topography: the Egyptian “Field of Rushes,” the eastern stars at dawn where the soul goes to be purified. That there is another, mirror world, a world of light, and that this world is simply the sky—and a step further, the breath of the sky, the weather, the very air—is a formative belief of great antiquity that has continued to the present day with the godhead becoming brightness itself
—Susan Brind Morrow, Wolves and Honey