Welcome To The Muse Academy (Video Brochure)

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“30 Days To Heightened Creativity in Business and Personal Life”  a 30-day workbook to learn and apply creativity skills by Heidi D. Hansen, M.A. will come out June 1, 2017.  Purchase price:  $39.00 – and that comes with 3 of Heidi’s best art prints of your choice.  Use the Paypal buttons here to purchase — and include $5.00 for postage/handling, then email Heidi with your mailing address.  Email:  dog.hotel.hansen@gmail.com .  Heidi is available for creativity coaching and consulting for an hourly fee of $70.00, payments can be made using these Paypal buttons.  Thanks, and I look forward to connecting soon! — HH

The Muse Academy Trailer & Song

A Poem For You by Mary Oliver

The Summer Day
by Mary Oliver
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean–
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down–
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
With your one wild and precious life?

The Summer Day by Mary Oliver
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean–
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down–
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
With your one wild and precious life?
________________________________________
This poem was written by the great poet Mary Oliver. http://maryoliver.beacon.org/
Outside my window where my computer and art table is situated, a shaft of hot bright spring sunlight is blasting off the misty gray lead of winter-spring and its quiet ruminations which have circled in on themselves.
It is time  —  it beguiles me –  to get out there and slog through the muddy grasses with a puppy who has not yet experienced spring and all its accordant smells and vapors and attitudes and surprise adventures and stunning dismay.
Well, off we go now, to put on our shlomping shoes,  and attend to our wild and precious life.
Thank you for this poem, Mary Oliver. http://maryoliver.beacon.org/
–Heidi Hansen

Helping Girls Get A Strong Sense of Self: The Meaning of Flight of The Thundermoon Swan

In the previous story, Flight of The Thundermoon Swan,”  is a metaphor for girls and people who care about girls getting a strong and independent sense of Self.  Here are some questions to consider:flightofthethundermoonswan

  1.  What might the “cupboard” in the story mean for girls you know?
  2. . What might the moon relate to in the lives of girls you know?
  3.  Why did the moon ask for what it did?
  4.  Why did Lucy comply?
  5.  What will the moon do with all the items that Lucy brought?

I’d love to hear your comments on these and any other thoughts you may have.  Reply here or at hhansenma@yahoo.com . Thanks! – Heidi D. Hansen, MA, child and family counselor.

Flight of The Thundermoon Swan

flightofthethundermoonswanThe corners of the cupboards were straight and smooth. The kitchen smelled vacant, freshly scrubbbed with no life at all. Plates, spoons and simmering pans were in their designated storage places, shiny and dry. Silent and empty, no food, no people, no life.

Except for the flutter of feathers from the side cupboard.

That was life.

Feathers fluffed and moved into wings that spread and opened and pushed open the cupboard door and carried their owner, a majestic white swan, out of the cupboard, out the window and up up up into the sky.

So high in the sky the swan broke through the atmosphere and flew up and over the earth until the sunlight became moonlight, which was where she was headed. The moon.

That luscious orange oversized juicy moon that hovered over the pea planet she left behind in her wake.

autumn moon

During her flight, quietly flapping her wings like a slow orchestra with a pretty melody, our swan gave herself a name. Lucy, she thought. A lovely and practical name.

Lucy contemplated her new freedom, and questioned why she had been in the cupboard in the first place, but no answers came.

Neither did she know why, on the first flight of her life, she had chosen the moon as her destination.

Lucy did not have much time to consider these, because the moon was so close she could hear it talking to her.

“Hello, Lucy,” said the moon. “Nice of you to come. I wonder, could I impose on you to get me a few items from the earth?”

“Of course,” said Lucy, happy to be of help.

“I think I would like a piece of music, if you don’t mind.”

Lucy flew down to earth and retrieved a piece of music she thought the moon might enjoy. SHe brought it back to the moon.

“Lovely, thank you.” said the moon. “Would you mind getting a painting for me, as well?”

Lucy happily agreed and went to earth and came back with a painting of interest.

“What is earth doing in its science laboratories these days?” the moon asked. “Would you please go and bring me a bit of science? Biology and chemistry would be appreciated.”

And although Lucy had some difficulty getting into CERN, she did so and brought back some truly important findings.

“And,” said the moon, blushing because it had asked so much of this single swan, “would you please bring me a bit of government?”

Lucy said she wan’t sure she could do this, but she would try.

And she thought and thought and brought back a piece of flag from the United Nations.

“And, — thank you, my dear Lucy, for all of these things, — and this is the last request I have of you. I have all of these things, and I love them all, but what is missing is people. Would you bring me a person, please?”

Lucy thought and thought before she answered the moon on this. She did not think she could, at all, bring the moon a person.

Lucy did not think she had really ever met a person. Being in the cupboard and all.

“I don’t think I can,” she finally told the moon, bleakly.

“Would you try, please?” asked the moon. “I need someone to teach me how to play a song, paint a picture, find a cure, lead the way.”

So Lucy, not wanting to dissapoint the first and only true friend she ever had, flew back to earth to find a person.

She went looking in the place she was most familiar with, the kitchen cupboard.

But when she reached out a wing to open the cupboard, something new and different happened. She heard a voice. A human voice.

“Mom, where’s the jam?” Lucy heard a young girl calling out.

“In the cupboard where it always is, Lucy silly!” came the mother’s voice after.

And Lucy opened the cupboard door and found the jam.

She took it out and spread it on the toast which had popped out of the toaster spraying crumbs and smelling nuttty and warm. Butter was sliding around on it, half melted and half lump on the crusty bread.

“You want a slice, too, mom?” Lucy heard herself ask.

“Oh, yum,” answered her mother. “I’ll pour the milk and let’s eat on the porch.

“This is my favorite bedtime snack, toast from fresh baked bread and grandma’s blackberry jam,” Lucy said, stealing the first bite before they plopped down on the porch rocker.

She slurped down a few gulps of ice cold creamy milk and took the next bite from the center of the bread.

“Oh, look at that moon, mom!” Lucy exclaimed with mouth full and chewing. “It’s so so orange and gigantic. In the clouds it looks like it’s quivering. See?”

Her mother nodded. “Yep,” she said, between chews of her own slice, “That’s a thundermoon. Biggest moon of the year, causes thunderstorms, and is an orange peachy color. The way the clouds move around it makes it look like its moving. Some say it looks like its flying.”

“Yeah,” Lucy nodded, full and sleepy. “It looks like its flying.”

by Heidi D. Hansenc2016allrightsreserved.