Tag Archives: Rumi


Finally, I am diving deeper into photoshop. I took a fun drive up Dry Creek Road yesterday for a wonderful tutorial with Badger artist, Robert Mertens. He kept saying, “I’ll show you a little more magic.” Taking notes and inwardly telling my brain synapses to remember…get it…don’t panic, I learned a few things in the photoshop realm. What an incredible (and overwhelming) software it is, just as we humans are. We have creative magic in us, intricate tools, untapped and invisible most of the time. We miss this immense beauty when we don’t give ourselves time to dive in and play.

“Be Crumbled” digital collage © Elsah Cort
[first attempt…it’s all process]

PS.  I used Indesign to make the final image.

In the Studio…

Just now as I was adding new lighting to the studio for the Studio Tour next weekend, a peace came over me. Making a space for creation is the essence of earth-work. Our planet does this for us in every moment.  So this space of mine, mine temporarily, is becoming an art work itself. So full of beauty….in the gathering and the space collage and the shuffle of songs in the iTunes music library, now Mary Chapin Carpenter sings “listening with my heart.”

The studio is re-aligning itself, not just for the Studio tour, but for the rest of my time here.  I am an artist, finally.

:: a studio shrine high atop the eleven-shelf paper stacks ::
mandala is mine…
Alex Grey card…
deep purple boxes for treasures….
too small to read, but the book title closest on right is
The Holographic Universe


I am gathering songs for a playlist on iTunes for the Studio Tour…….just after I typed these words, the music queue gifts me Coleman Barks talking about Rumi and the guest house.

Coleman speaking: Rumi’s model for the psyche is the guesthouse. He says we are not the emotions, the compulsions and the moods that come through us. We are the space that they move through and the host of the space. We are not those emotions. So that jealousy comes and you say, “Good to see you, I thought you were dead.” Or stage fright comes, and you say ” Welcome, it’s been kind of dull without you.” Ecstatic love comes down the walk, “My pleasure.” A sentimental sense of oneness with everything approaches, “I knew your Mother.” (Coleman laughs.) That’s kind of cruel isn’t it? A cynical doubt of  anything spiritual comes down the road, “Bro! How about that game last night? Unbelievable!” Road rage comes, “Have you ever considered becoming a professional driver?”

Here is the poem, from The Essential Rumi…..


This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meaness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.