August  1, 2007

Yasas Anjlart Friends,

I hope this (warning! 5 pages) newsletter finds you all at some kind of peace, joy, love and sense of knowing that all is
exactly as it is meant to be.  Well, that is what I am sitting with myself these days upon my return from Italy and
Greece…and I suppose that with that I am hoping to have your company.  Right?  ;-)

As I type this message I am awaiting the final confirmation from my web
building program informing me that the 18 photos (out of over 1600 phew!) of my travels to Italia and Greece have
been successfully posted. In the past two hours it has successfully shut down and dumped all material so I had to
reboot and begin the process again a number of times.  Kind of like waiting for luggage to arrive that was checked in to
Athens airport…oh, say…on Saturday and today is Tuesday.  Damn Rome airport!  (a bit of advice from
experience…don’t fly into Rome…instead fly into the Pisa airport.  It’s smaller, newer and the people working there
actually work.  Not to mention that the bathrooms are clean enough to actually go into ; ) Good thing all the luggage
was on time while in Europe.  I suppose I have pretty good Karma since this didn’t happen until the return trip home.  
Enough.  Can you tell I’m still a bit exhausted and affected by the 12 legs of journey I just completed in only 17 days.  
But…oh so worth it.

So much has yet to settle and be realized…it was quite the whirlwind of events.  First country of exploration was Italy.  
Let me just say…there were gems in the Guidonia/Santa Lucia area…and mostly my favorite part of the journey was in
Siena and San Gimignano where we found a treasure at the end of a very narrow unpaved road.  Ville di Pinos…which
apparently is a well sought after Bed and Breakfast…but we just so happen to stumble (impossible if you saw the road)
upon it.  I could tell the owner and guests weren’t sure if we were telling the truth about finding it by accident.
Unbelievable at best. It was hidden very deep into some private country of Toscana.  (Yes, this was definitely a glimpse
of The Face of the Divine for sure.)  

While in Italy it became apparent that an evening tour of Roma was in order.  Not my favorite feat of the trip…and with
a sprained ankle…no easy one at that either.  But my favorite descriptor of this part of the journey…is…DONE!  I am
not a big fan of commercial tourism…my favorite part of travel is rest, massage and sleeping/napping in new
environments meeting more evolved types of travelers and especially the  towns people in their everyday way of life
etc.  I would visit the Toscana Providence area again…loved, loved, loved the fields of sunflowers…so very whimsical
and amazingly colorful!  But I hope I don’t ever have to do Roma again. Like I said…DONE!

Then the next 7 days were what I refer to as the real meat of the journey for me…the trek to Greece and more
specifically a 49 year long dream to experience the island that my father was born and lived the first third of his life.
Ahhh Psara!

How do I even begin to describe what this part of the journey was like for me.  With the nine photos on the bio page of
my website (http://www.anjlart.com/bio.html)
I believe you can only begin to feel the enormity of meaning and connection this had for me.  Unfortunately I was only
there over night…12 hours to be exact.  Arriving at 7pm with the next ferry out at 7am the next morning.  I made sure I
savored every minute of this 12 hour experience.  From drinking in all my eyes could contain…texture, color, depth,
play of the sun, moon, stars on the water, land, building, brush etc.  The sounds and smells were captured in bundles
and the strings of my memory carefully and gently held them in place for I new the load to carry back home would need
secured  placement in my heart.  Each day since I’ve been home…I write and write and write…about this experience.  
And yet I know it is only a taste…sampling if you will…for what I know is a full blown solo trip within the next year.  

The goals of this journey were to figure out how to get to the island with my own rhythm by asking for guidance from
The Face of The Divine…along the way.  It began long before the boat/ferry tour counter at Athens airport. “You take
a ferry or flight to Chios…and then you ask when a ferry will leave for Psara when you get there.”   So that is what I
did.  I flew to Chios…grabbed the first taxi driver and asked, “How do I get to Psara?”…he drove…collected 6
Evro/Euro and dropped me off at the corner of the port and said …”It will leave from here in one hour.”  I waited…no
ferry came.  An angry truck driver started yelling, crossing himself three times…spitting and then pointed to the other
side of the dock.  I put on my pack…and walked.  Finding an angel…the old lady with a grey bun…and her
son…walking…I followed without asking.  

The first door I went in the young woman behind the desk said…”Yes a ferry leaves here…tomorrow at 3:pm.”  “What?  
I need a ferry today.”  “Sorry.”  So the next 27 hours were spent…finding a room…up three flights of stairs…98
degrees…a heavy pack…and a sprained ankle.  Around 4pm I was in tears ready to bag the dream and go home…all
the way home to B-town CA, USA.  I was overwhelmed, exhausted…foot horribly swollen.  I wrote and wrote and wrote
in my journal about surrendering.  Giving up the dream…why did I need to go to this stupid island anyway? Perhaps
The Universe didn’t want me to go.  It certainly wasn’t helping me get there.  Screw it!  I went to my room and fell asleep.


Then I woke up in a huge anxiety attack…that forced me out of the room…and into the night air.  As I rounded the
corner, I spotted a whole new scene…and a port full of nightlife energy…with a beautiful sunset almost full moon and a
renewed spirit.  After a nice dinner, and a night of serious photographing…this beautiful island of Chios…the only
island in the world that the mastic tree with amazing healing properties is found, I was then ready to return up the three
flights of stairs and very small room for a good night’s sleep… and please dear God… no more expectations.

The next morning… more rested …the tickets were purchased…a breakfast was ordered at the taverna right in front of
the ferry because I wasn’t going to let it out of my sight.  Then around 2pm I boarded the ferry.  “It’s too early”…the
ticket taker said…”It’s okay…I just want to get on board now.”  He smiled and obliged me.  An hour later we were
leaving the port of Chios…and the four hour westward journey across the Aegean Sea began.

While on the ferry I enjoyed the open space and sea air. Then around 6pm…off in the distance I spied the outline of
the little island traced in grey against the hazy horizon and the glistening waters.  I thought about my sons and how I
wish they were there with me.  The full circle…of generations.  My father’s island, my island, their island.  “Call them.” a
small voice whispered.  “Out here on the Aegean sea???  Is there phone service?”  Yes.  Very clear..better than the
service from my home in the states.  It was our usual morning call time for them.  “Good morning, where are you
Moma?”  “I’m viewing your Papou’s island for the very first time as the ferry makes it’s approach.  It’s 6pm here.”  
Tears…Connection…Love.  

I felt my father’s arms around my shoulders. It was a very powerful moment. We said good bye and  I continued to take
picture after picture the entire hour as the island came into focus.  My eyes felt like a stomach that had drunk too much
water.  Breathe.  Walk.  Look at the faces on the port deck…people were meeting up with friends and family members.
People were looking at me…me looking at them.  No taxi’s.  Walk…the first place I spied the water reaching up to the
cemented deck…I walked in with my swollen bandaged foot.  I felt the waters cool the burning.  I stayed present…and
felt the healing begin …feet first.

Then I walked and walked and walked some more.  I read signs written in Greek.  I new the first order of business was
to find a room. I asked…my broken Greek…their broken English…a young girl pointed.  I walked.  A man heard me
and in English said he would show me to the pension.  Asked my name…I showed him photos of my father and sister.  
He didn’t know them but the little old lady he showed them to did.  Then another man came up to me and introduced
himself as “The Mayor.”  He said my sister had been there last year…that I looked like her.  Yes.

The room was very clean…quiet and very comfortable.  As I stepped out on the patio to breath in the air…I heard
people from the yard down below.  They were speaking my name.  By the time I had walked from one side of the island
to my room…the islanders were all ready assessing my visit. I showered and then began to walk again.  My ankle was
barely swollen anymore.  Miracle?  Face of the Divine?  I kept telling myself…to stay aware…awake…present…I was
finally on my father’s island, Psara!

I walked and walked and said, “Yasas” to everyone. Some nodded.  Some stared.  Some responded back.  I took photo
after photo after photo.  A crowd of people were walking down the street.  Church had just let out.  The people passed
me by as I photographed them. I felt like I was intruding in their lives and at the same time…it was my life in session as
well.  I kept shooting photos.  They carried large pieces of bread from the church service. The size of a half of
loaf…not like the little squares we used to get when I was a little girl.  I wanted some so badly because I was
hungry…on many levels. I wish I had been to the service with them. Oh, what would The Face of The Divine look like
there?  

The whole time I was there I knew it wasn’t going to be enough.  I wanted more.  So much more…time…to drink it all in.  
This was only a sampling…I knew the message was for me to “take and experience as much as possible without forcing
it…then to return.” I know the next step is to plan a trip where I can stay for a month…or two…perhaps a sabbatical…a
year.  My head was reeling.  

We had a very expensive fish dinner at a local taverna that was not very good.  The ticket came…33 Euros for the just
fish alone.  That’s about $40…to the man who said…my father owns prime property on the island. (Later I found out
that my cousin is involved in legal matters about this issue…this very day.)  Someone else mentioned the land…I
shrugged and said…that wasn’t why I was there.  I responded…”So they say…so they say.  Who cares.”

After dinner, more walking was in order… to the dock where all the people were out walking and sitting and talking.  
The priest came and sat on a wall…a woman walked up to him and they talked while he held her hand. It was a sweet
moment to witness. Women walking and talking in groups,  men sitting and talking, young girls dressed up…young men
talking on cell phones…families eating…I could smell the Ouzo.  I spied some little boys riding bikes…and playing on
the dock.  I imagined my father playing right there when he was a boy.

I ordered a Greek coffee while watching fish jump out of the water…just then I heard a little popping sound and the
electricity on the entire island went out.  “Yasou!”  The people stopped and laughed for only a moment before they
returned to whatever it was they were doing prior.  Then a few minutes later the lights went back on. I could tell this was
a common occurrence. A man yelled out in Greek for his daughter to go to her Yia Yias house now.  I was exhausted
but I wanted to paint.  I had promised myself I’d  paint while I was there…I got up and walked to my room

Once there…I put on my wrap and sat on the patio and painted the evening sky and the moon reflecting on the water.  
I painted from memory the outline of the island on the glistening Aegean as I remembered my sons voices that morning
there with me…connected…I painted until I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore.

Finally to bed…no air conditioning and the woman warning about the mosquitoes…I had rubbed myself down with
repellent and kept the windows open…it was impossible to sleep…during the tossing I heard the song of the
island…mosquitoes…a couple making love…yes, true…and the wind kicking up it’s heels like a Greek sailor dance.  

Morning came very quickly with the wind…too quickly…the alarm went off at 5:30.  I had paid the woman for the room
the night before when I had informed  her that we would only need the room for one night.  The only boat out was at
7am and  I didn’t want to have to wake her to pay the next morning.  But when I walked out of the room she was up and
sitting in front of her office on a little chair.  I thanked her shook her hand and handed her my Cd and told her in Greek
that it was my music.  A gift to her.  She was very thankful and proud.  I had left another Cd in the room.  (This was my
practice during the trip when leaving each room)

As I walked to the port the wind blew…like a hand on the small of my back.  Escorting and waving good-bye. Snapping
photos along the way…people looking out their windows…dogs up on their hind legs looking out of fences…two men
on little scooters rode by and waved. Fishermen in their boats some stopping to look up.  Some saying Yasas!  Some
just looked.  I opened my arms and hugged the air and the entire experience before boarded the ferry…just before it
began to pull out of port.

I stood on the deck and watched the island…my father’s island, my island….fade out of focus…Psara…now knowing it
so very differently than I have known it for over 49 years…my lifetime.

I will end here but there is so much more story to tell about this trip…yet this is long enough for one sitting, eh?

Many of you have asked for the stories…I suppose you all knew there would be many…and if you know me well…they’
d be long for the story is still being written each day as I journal…write music, paint…more and more and more…it all
just all keeps coming into focus.

Yes, some have asked…so I will say…there was quite a lot of tension between my travel companion and I during this
trip that I had wished away so many times, along with trying to talk it out…but to no avail.  So I am still trying to process
what that was all about… without letting it take away the amazing peace and continual  glimpses of The Face of The
Divine that happen throughout the entire trip.  Perhaps he was meant to be as in literature…a foil to all this…??? I don’
t know.  What I do know for sure is…I’m back in the States. I’m home with my puppy on my lap every minute possible.  I’
m loving my own bed…solitude…the quiet…peace…and the process of bringing this body to stillness and then it’s own
rhythm again after what felt like constant movement for over 17 days. These past few days have been like a sort of
letting my soul catch up with my body experience…if you will.

As I gently move about my home and venture back into my town and interact with my people again…I feel new, alive,
and am aware that the dreams are finally clear again.  I see in their faces that I have changed.  I hear in my own voice
a deeper connection with my heart, my sons, my home and the freedoms and opportunities that I had become numb
to.  I now have new dreams, a new sense of purpose, and a freshly healed heart.  A hunger has been satisfied.
There’s a new sense of knowing…all this from the tasting of… True North.

And as always…

This will be continued…;-)

Photos (only 18 of 1600 more to come…) of this journey can be viewed on my bio page on my website by clicking here
http://www.anjlart.com/bio.html


I will keep you all posted on a live radio interview that I will be doing about my Cd Exposed on Monday August 6th at
9pm with KSVR and will let you know when the paintings and new songs inspired by this journey are ready for your
viewing etc.

I only hope that my journey in search of The Face of The Divine (perhaps the title of the next song or CD even ;-)
…inspires your own.  I wish you peace…and a sense of knowing that all is exactly as it should be.

With Great Love…

Yasas,
Angelique
www.anjlart.com

“I’d rather live my life, than record it.”  (Something I read somewhere on this trip???)