When a difficult tide crashes through the inner landscape, the quiet within becomes the perfect pearl. Like the eye of a hurricane, within my inner flame resides the calm from which all life springs and to which all life returns.

I wrote a Substack post for you all two or three weeks ago, but it was published in The Big Bend Sentinel instead. You can read that article here. It’s really a love letter to two pianists who visited Marfa the weekend of the New Moon eclipse in Virgo.

My birthday was September 28th, and my partner took me to Ojo Caliente in New Mexico. I did manage to get some watercoloring done while I was there. For example:

The first painting is from the steam room where one’s inner fortitude is put to the test with every heave of the generator. The second piece is a tree on a windy/rainy day, obviously.

Speaking of art, my handmade Rulez 2 Live By books are now being sold exclusively at The Wrong Store in Marfa. Additionally, I have 3 pieces that will be in the upcoming Marfa Must show for Chinati Weekend. The show opening is Saturday 10/11/25 from 12-2pm at The Coal and Wood Marfa → https://maps.app.goo.gl/sUK3SWrCKqcAHqJb8

I will be doing an open studio as part of Marfa Must on Sunday October 12th from 12-2pm. More details can be found here. If you can’t make it, you can view a sample of my work on my website: www.MarfaAstro.com

The tides have been strong lately; I find myself deepening my breath and slowing down as the only apparent solve to the whirlwind. I learned these skills in 2020. I wrote about this in my book The Metaphysics of Good Vibrations. I lived in a 4-plex in Montrose, Houston. It was St. Patrick’s Day, and I could see the back of PJ’s bar from my bedroom window. The pandemic was official, but people still showed up to the pub. I laid in silence, staring out the window as the scent and smoke from myrrh on charcoal filled the room. There was nothing to do but slow down and contemplate death.

I learned the skill of doing nothing when destruction hits from 2020 to 2021 as I walked in circles around my 1 acre property in East Texas, over and over, trudging in the mud with rain boots on. I finished my book, put out episodes of my podcast and shot my pistol with friends as we lined up cans along the fence line.

Taking shelter and quietly working on art or sitting in stillness while the whirlwind brings destruction, these are the things that are mine to do. I feed the birds and go to work. I refill my cup with sunshine. I breathe with the wind in the morning and admire the moon at night. I text back my friends when they text me. I take things off my plate when I feel overwhelmed. I get back on the beam when I fall off, and I surrender the things I cannot control.

See you soon!

Xo,
A