Torn Asunder



I have been really feeling like a raw nerve coming into this new year. There is so much to be excited for and I just keep rushing at things like they were waves. And they pummel me. I have really been taking on some beatings… but reveling at my skin, like a polished stone.. how resilient, how precious that it is vulnerable and worn down beauty with time.

How the experiences and human interactions just feel even more lovely and intense or overwhelming with these new years on me. My hope is to be brave to keep rushing at the waves, get lost, and also know when to take a break and soak up the sun.

“Be wild; that is how to clear the river. The river does not flow in polluted, we manage that. The river does not dry up, we block it. If we want to allow it its freedom, we have to allow our ideational lives to be let loose, to stream, letting anything come, initially censoring nothing. That is creative life. It is made up of divine paradox. To create one must be willing to be stone stupid, to sit upon a throne on top of a jackass and spill rubies from one’s mouth. Then the river will flow, then we can stand in the stream of it raining down.”

Clarissa Estes Women who Run with Wolves







About scoutcuomo

Charcoal dust and eraser shavings, oil bars and sketch books, wood, gold pray paint, resin, overly soft blankets, and turpentine, feathers and coffee grinds.

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