Healing/Creating Hands

Source energies curl and furl in my palms. They remain there until I start working on something. Sometimes they churn and make my hands tingle. As soon as I begin to focus, the energy passes through to my fingers.

Way back in the 60s when I was a potter living in Hawaii, my logo was a hand with a spiral in the palm. It symbolized my intention to bring forth Divine energy through my art. I made it into a stamp I’d press into the bottom of my pots.

Yesterday, I was wondering how I could continue the art-inspiration series I’ve been writing. The image of that hand popped into my mind.

It was perfect, since the last 2 designs I’d made used hands and spirals. But this one had a different feel to it. It made me think of all the healing training I’ve gone through.

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Be A Fierce Bear about Your Art

You have to know the value of what you create. To me, whether it’s my visual art or my writing, it is the Divine Voice speaking with my voice and hands. Its value is incalculable.
Never let anyone dissuade you from regarding your art as valuable.

When my kids were little, they’d join me in my studio. They drove me nuts. They’d wander around, squeezing the clay, opening and slamming shut cabinet doors, sticking little fingers in the powdered glaze materials, dragging out my tools and doofing around with them, and opening and closing the top of my smaller kiln.

Finally, I sat them down at the big middle table and showed them coil and slab building, and later, how to glaze, decorate, and fire their creations. They got to it and proved themselves damn good little artists.

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What Inspires You?

I was taught that “great artists wait for inspiration to come to them, and then they create.” So obviously, if I wanted to become a great artist, I needed to wait for inspiration to come. Well that’s just total BS.

Bringing Light to the World

Smart me! I didn’t believe it. Life moves faster than that. And I don’t wait well.

I have a hard time with old adages. I question EVERYthing. Old, in these times, means either venerated and sure as can be; or outdated, worn out and no longer applicable, even destructive.

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Reading Time

My buddies love it when I read to them!

Reading Time

We gather together and sit on my bed with piles of snacks, and they help me choose which books to read. We love the Mysterious Island, and all of Nathan Lowell’s sci-fi stories.

I have to be careful of Kitty, though — she likes to lean over my shoulder and ruffle the pages so I lose my place. Naughty Kitty!

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I discovered that practice meant giving up trying to achieve perfection. What it really gave me was a calm, quiet belly.

Practicing with my buddies . . .

Many long years ago, I practiced Tai Chi Sword, and Naginata, a women’s sword-fighting art, where the sword is bound to a six-foot bamboo pole that extends the reach of the sword.

There was a famous battle in Japan in an earlier century — I can’t remember which — where all the men in a village had gone to war, and the women saved their village by fighting off marauders on horseback by binding their husbands’ extra swords to long bamboo poles.

They could now not only reach the marauders and still not get hurt themselves, but they could cut the horses’ legs out from under them. Thus began the traditional martial art of Naginata.

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The Squall of All Squalls

I used to love to fish. Down at the dock, I’d dangle my feet off the end, feeling the outright peace being saturated with sun and calm and things-are-just-right brings.

Jumping, hissing, and spouting, frothy mini-geysers covered the harbor shore to shore.

Sometimes I’d row a skiff out, and float around in the shadows under the piers, throwing in my line to see what I could catch.

There, I was free from older-brother teasing, and “would you watch your little brother for a sec . . “ babysitting. Whether on the dock or out in a boat, I spent as much time every summer as I could with my catch bucket and lunch by my side, line in the water.

One lovely summer noon when we were 15, my friend Sally and I sat on my favorite dock, glumly watching our bait bobbers flop uselessly on the surface of the water — we’d caught plenty of fish earlier, but there had been no bites for some time.

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David came up behind me, grabbed my pail of fish, and before I could stop him, dumped it right on top of my head. He and his buddies squealed with laughter and ran off down the dock.

The Fish Laugh at My Worm Down at the Dock on this Glorious Sunny Day

The fishes slid down my back, into my shirt, down onto my lap. I was soaked, head to foot. Good thing I wasn’t squeamish.

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Fishies and Buddies at the Bottom of the Sea

I always think of my underwater scenes as reflective of our human life above the water.

Fishies and Buddies at the Bottom of the Sea

How, at the very same time, life is so full of kindness and compassion, even as it is fraught with rampant killing and imminent danger, with safe and neutral territories and scary streets you’d avoid if you could.
How there are sneaky eels hiding in the coral, waiting to strike the unsuspecting finny lunch; silvery minnows flitting around the wavy plant stalks, bright scallops appearing like uplifting lights in a dark sea.

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Feed the Lot (A Dream that I wish was real)

In a dream, I’m the manager of a catering company. We get an order to cater The Cattleman’s Association Annual Stockman Gathering. 800 people.

Spaghetti for Everyone!

I’m thinking, wow, 800 people! That’s a lot of people — I didn’t even know there was a group called that, much less that there were so many of them!

So I gather supplies, find a venue, conscript other caterers in town to help, and at last we are all set and ready to open the doors.

We’re standing at our tables in the huge room, waiting for the people to come in. Ten, fifteen, thirty, sixty, 80.

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Kitties Love Us, but Would Never Admit It

I love looking out at the squirrels who hop around on my neighbor, Joy’s roof, along with the jays and other birdies.
Her cat chases them endlessly, but never catches a thing. I think he must be de-clawed, poor thing.
There’s a hummingbird feeder out there, too – it’s always jam-packed with flying fluttering hummers. The kitty sits inside on the sill of the window, slathering at the mouth, dreaming of the impossible feast.

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Kitties Don’t Give Up!

I used to watch my cat sit still for hours watching the birdies – he never, ever gave up. It made me wonder why I often gave up easily.

Kitties and pals howl because they feel so sad

So I stopped doing that. Now I’m like a ravenous tiger with a fresh steak – get away! Mine! I’m going to get this done!

A friend called me last week, crying about how hard it was getting her first book published on Amazon’s KDP platform.

She told me she had been so proud of herself for having written and illustrated it, and got a great cover, but now she felt stuck and a hair away from giving up.

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You Know I Love Cats . . .

A long, long time ago, I had a black cat named Oedipuss.

He used to strut into the room where we were sitting, come stand by our feet, look around, and then oh-so-casually reach up and swat the dangling foot of the one with crossed legs.

He’d then shrug like he’d done his dirty work of the day and wasn’t he oh-so-good at it, and strut right back out of the room.

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“Where Do You Get Your Ideas?”

Have you ever wondered where an artist gets ideas from? I’m asked all the time where my designs, illustrations, paintings and sculpture come from. Well, here’s your answer!

The first spring blooms pop through the snow

The first spring blooms pop through the snow

The simple answer would be, The Dream World.

The more complex answer would be: dreams, flashes of insights, phrases I hear in conversation or on the radio or videos or other media; I might get a word or a concept as I’m reading  – my Dream pipes are always open, ready to flow ideas and information down to me.

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I Put A Spell On You

Do you see the gals weaving their curly wishes into reality, and the kitties and birdies and mice supporting them?

I Put A Spell On You!

This is one of my latest pattern design pieces for fabric and home decor.

This, and others in various colors, are now added to my Spoonflower shop, so you can get them on fabric, wrapping paper, wall paper, pillows, and more!


Below are a bunch of other color variations, and repeat patterns.

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I Lost My Temper, and Lost Everything

Freya. Little Freya. Five feet nothing, thin as a rail. Powerhouse. Strides in from the outside deck, leaving the door wide open to the frigid, whirling snow and cutting wind. Which wasted no time rushing in and wrapping itself around me, doing its best to freeze my tropical butt off.

house in the snow

January, 1996

I’d just gotten home, settling down at the table for some hot soup. It’s January. We’re at 6200 feet elevation in the hills south of Santa Fe, New Mexico. It’s been snowing all day. Knee deep so far.

“Would you please close the door?” I asked.

She looked at me as if I was crazy – why on earth would I want to close the door?

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Comments, Connectedness, and Kindness

I wonder why people feel so free to be outright a-holes, mean sons of bunches, and screaming ranting judgmental karens out to intentionally destroy some innocent person’s reality.

We’re All Connected with the Great Circle of Life

I’m thinking about the comments we all make online — on Medium, Substack and other article sites, social media — from Facebook to X to instagram and tiktok.

What gives people permission to be so mean?
What makes them think that’s OK?

I wonder — if that person being so horrid was saying those things in front of their mother, would they still be saying it?

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How Peace Bringer Brought Spring Back

Isn’t it just like life! You have to brave going through the shit in order to finally get to the gold – which has so much more value, the more trouble it was to get it.

TRIGGERS: If you are sensitive to mentions of violence or harm, you may not be brave enough to read those parts. You might want to read the happy parts though. (This is a pretty long read.)

Spring Came Back!

It was the heaviest blizzard so far this year. I was on my way home, slowly inching my old truck up the last leg of the hill. My windshield wipers, clogged with thick wet snow, just made smudges as they scraped left, right, left, right. There was more ice on the glass than clear space. Hunched over the steering wheel, my neck strained forward, still, I could barely see.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a dark form moving out in front of the State Park entrance sign.

Snow swirled madly in the yellow cones of light from the lamps above the sign. I crept closer to see. What the heck was anyone doing out here so late at night, in this hella storm?

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I Had A Tantrum Yesterday, and It Wasn’t Pretty

Finding out I had zero choice set me on fire. I can usually put up with automated customer service, whether on the phone, or online chat. But this time? Oh my.

We bought a new mattress/box-spring set from a company we found online. It was delivered, unpacked and set up; the delivery guys left; I made the bed up all nice and cozy.

What do you mean I can’t talk to a human?

Looking forward to a nice shakedown nap, I sat on the edge to take my shoes off — and the side of the mattress sagged right down to the box spring. Surprise and shock! Holy moly — this was a new mattress??

Disappointed to the max, I called the company to see about returning and replacing the mattress.

No human; only a recorded message.

I was given three options from which to choose:
1. I could return it with no replacement, and pay 99 bucks shipping and 99 bucks restock fee.
2. I could exchange it for a new mattress and pay the same fees, plus the fee for shipping the replacement to me.
3. I could say screw it and keep the thing.

I hung up, irritated.

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Are You A Writer or Author?

Do you know where to publish your articles and stories? I’ve added a rich list of various places to publish at the end of this note — you’ll want to bookmark and save this — lots of good info.

The Truth Comes Out© Angela Treat Lyon

Maybe you already know about websites where you can publish your articles and stories. I didn’t know about them until last year, when a friend introduced me to them. I’ll get right into it:


You can set up to get paid for your writing in various ways. I started writing stories, essays and articles in January 2023. It’s now January 2024, and I have published around 120 articles and stories now — I make a small amount each month from medium.com and substack.com.

Want to read one of my most popular stories? Go here:
And a silly one: angelatreatlyon.com/silly-kitty/

After you have written and published for a while, you get a feel for what your readers like and want more of, so you can start to make money from your writing. My readers seem to appreciate both deep personal stories and silly, fun ones.

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Kitty comes from the planet Amberocity. They have the most amazing spiral deserts that intersect with ferocious thick carnivorish jungles.

Silly Kitty© Angela Treat Lyon

My neighbor’s cat, Kitty, is from that planet. She came here because she was scared of the jungle. And she likes chocolate ice cream, which they don’t have on her planet.

She loves to run in wider and wider fast-circles and chase her long tail until she falls down completely knackered and caked with thick mud. Her favorite thing is to be revived with dark ale.

She is very nosy. With great wailing squawks, she hikes herself up and clings to my window’s narrow sill, where she meowers loudly as she stares at me as I go about my work.

It’s amazing how long she can stay in that position. Her back claws barely stick to the nubbly wall, and her front toes cling fingernail screeching tight to the window frame. But – she never once has fallen off. I wonder if she’s transmitting spyish code to her home planet about humans.

I think I should introduce her to Dawg.


The original of Silly Kitty is gone, but maybe you would love to have a high quality reproduction on paper, metal, acrylic or canvas! You can get her matted and framed, too. Just let me know what you’d like.

Meet DAWG.

I bet you don’t know that there are dog-aliens. They look and act like our dogs, but you can tell at night, because their eyes gleam green when the moon is full.

Dawg© Angela Treat Lyon

Dawg is a silly, fun-loving, very tall, very fast-running critter who came from the planet Outlandia, which is covered with very high mountains and very deep oceans and not much else.

She loves rabbits. As in chase and play with rabbits, not x them out of existence. She’s very kind, you see.


The original of Dawg is long gone, but I would love to make you a high-quality reproduction – maybe you’d like one printed on paper, metal, acrylic or canvas! You can get her matted and framed, too. Just let me know what you’d like.

Teachers: Make Money Selling Your Lessons

Here’s something that surprised me recently – did you know you can sell your lesson plans? You can! And people pay dearly for them! You can also sell your worksheets, class exercises, reading guides, and other helpful educational resources!


Why teach one group of kids in school, when you can teach thousands through other teachers all over the world?

Teachers write and sell their materials


Here are some handy-dandy links to websites where you can sell your teaching stuff, as well as a few how-to sites, so you can find out how to do this. Check them out to see if any of them fit for you.

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Caught by A Monster Outgoing Tide

(Published in Small Craft Advisor Magazine)

My friend Jana and I decided to take the little blue skiff out — we’d row across the harbor to the tiny crescent-shaped beach right under the old Tiffany mansion, and have a lazy picnic.

two girls in a row boat

It was a hot, lazy day….

But we never got there.

We were bored. It was a hot July noon on Long Island’s north shore. The sun felt like it was drilling down through our skulls, right into our brains.

We grabbed our floppy hats, packed the boat up and took off from the main dock, telling Ralph, who was in charge that day, that we’d be back mid-afternoon some time.

The tide was at its peak. It would be high for a bit more time, and then the water would start slowly moving out of the long harbor into Long Island Sound.

There wasn’t a shred of wind. The surface of the water was glassy, a huge mirror reflecting each movement of the oars.

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What’s Your Destiny? Mine Is Scary.

I’m assuming that I’m going to live to be 100. So I’ve been thinking about what I want to see happen in my life in my last 22 years.

Journey Master

On the one hand, most of me just wants to disappear to a small hideout on the beach somewhere. I want to putter in a thriving garden, splash down the beach ankle-deep in foamy waves, throw paint around in my studio, and maybe write a few more books. To hell with the rest of the world.

This other part of me, though – man, what a loud, insistent, bossy rebel. She wants to write and paint and draw and carve and talk and blab my beliefs and ideas and tips and tricks and stories all over the damn place.

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Why Should I Bother Making Art in Times of Fear and War?

I got a call from an artist friend who was all upset about the way the world seems to be inside out and utterly falling apart.

Uh-Oh!!!! Bear Is Surprised by Baby Skunk Fats!

She said, “When I look at how
the world has gotten, I think why bother making art anymore? People say they are either too worried about rent to buy art, or scared about what tomorrow will bring. What’s the use? I feel like giving up. I keep wondering what the heck good does art do?”

Later on in our conversation, she made me laugh when she answered her own question.

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Excruciating Pain and Horror to Unending, Exquisite Love

The emergency room intake attendant side-eyed me in disbelief from under frowning grizzled brows. Holding my pulse with one hand, with the other he was hurriedly filling in my chart with cryptic slashes and numbers.

Star Fire

He looked back down at it on his lap, and glanced at me again. Not really seeing me.

“How is it possible that you’re still alive?” he whispered to himself, oh so quietly, as if in a trance. “You should be dead.”

Not surprised, I just sat silent.

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My Dad Thought It Was Sooo Funny When He Ripped the Covers Off Me

“I’m sorry, honey,” he said, looking back up at me, actual tears in his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

Shylee – enraged and helpless

My dad used to burst into my bedroom, at dawn:30, throwing the door back with a thunderous bang.

He’d roughly yank all the covers completely off me and my bed, tossing it all aside, and cheerily spout, “Time to get uuuuuuuppp!!”

He thought he was being SO funny. N O T .

But could I ever convince him of that? Or that I felt terrified of him? Nope.

He was a very big man. I felt totally violated, my privacy absolutely irrelevant to him. Nope. Nothing I said to him got through.

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Get Your Audience Settled, whether Live or On Zoom

You’re about to lead a workshop or presentation. You want to begin, but your audience comes into the space full of energy, busy-busy chatting, walking around, chaotic. This is for you.

Speaking to your audience who loves you

What I’m about to show you works for in-person, online, and zoom events.

The first thing I do is bang on my podium. Or desktop.

Most presenters are polite, and don’t like to make waves.
I’m not polite. I intentionally make waves.

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Happy, Happy Birthday to Meeeeeee!

Yesterday was my birthday! I never thought of myself as a writer . . .

Waldo Dreams of Tango

I woke up to grey skies and freezing cold air — I’d forgotten to close my window to only an inch like I usually do. It was wide open, and all the cold night air was hurricaning around in my bedroom. Man it was cold!

But that’s OK — I jumped up and got warm, and decided to have a great day. I kept it mellow — napped and cruised a bit online, and then had a wee tiny party last night with two friends. Just the way I like it.

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