Raven: The Reason Why

Raven appears as trickster and bringer of magic in stories that fly through time and territory, his cleverness ultimately providing humans with surprising benefits.  

The Reason Why raven appears in The encyclopedia of Santa Fe and Northern New Mexico

 Enduring creatures, Ravens appear in the Lascaux cave paintings, the Bible, Babylonian flood myths, Norse, Celtic, and Native American stories and more. Raucous, rowdy, defiant, sensual and smart, their cleverness is admired by scientists, their mystery acknowledged throughout world cultures.

A jewelry maker from Boston, graduate of the esteemed North Bennet Street School, gave a print of this Raven to a dear friend in New Mexico who knew the pleasure of sitting with her dog named Bear and talking to ravens. Soon after the dog died, a raven feather appeared on the front stoop. The owner believes that the feather is a message from Bear.
Meet more ravens for sale @http://www.bethsurdut.com/listening-to-raven.html

Listening To Raven~Drawings,  Myths & Realities by Beth Surdut

While I was creating The Ravens of  Truth and Memory with pen and colored pencil, heart and mind, two tiny Zuni fetish ravens carved by a married couple into black marble and bound together with turquoise and coral perched on the paper's edge. I found them through the grace of the Bronwyn the White Raven who owns Keshi in Santa Fe.
The Norse God Odin sent two Ravens out each day--one named Thought (Hugin), the other Memory (Munin). Here, I've changed Thought to Truth.
Memory allows Truth to gently pick through her feathers until both birds shine. Chosen by bird guide author  David Allen Sibley for the exhibition For the Birds at Brush Gallery in Massachusetts until June 18.
For the beginning of the Raven story that brought this mermaid to the desert, start with Drawing Raven. Meet the Raven Clan http://www.listeningtoraven.com

Is that an egg in your pocket,or are you just happy to see me?

There's a new raven lurking in the lavender. How do I know? He's bigger and more cautious than my regulars,who swoop in to check a few times a day to see if I've put out uncooked chicken eggs.
The newbie, watching to see if the egg is really available, is stalking amidst the sweet-scented purple flowers, flying up to land on the creviced rock fountain, then back to the bushes.
Now he's on the rock, head swinging back and forth to see if he's alone. Ah ha! He's picked up the prize in his beak and taken off, his feathers gleaming blue and silver.

If you're in Santa Fe, you can see my Ravens of Truth and Memory in the Wildlife Invitational show at the Randall Davey Audubon Center until June 30th. My solo Listening To Raven exhibition opens there July 9.

When Raven knocks, let him in

Insistent thudding.
Knocking.
Banging.
In the kitchen.
Above my head.
A darkness on the frosted skylight.
A cat, I thought, and went outside calling, “Here kitty kitty.”
The big raven walked to the edge of the flat roof.
“What do you mean... kitty,” said Raven, looking down at me.
After all this time, I should have known.

Raven Walks Like a Man

In my dream, Raven walks like a man.

My friend Cuervo, who grew up in Columbia, warned me, "If you see a really big raven, I mean, one that is big like a dog, it's a spirit or a brujo, and not a good one."

Raven lopes towards me, beak wide open and pink inside, so I know he's young, but I don't know what he wants, so I wake up.

I draw every feather and shadow of him until he walks off the page to tell me why he is here.

Raven just flew by my window. I can see everything through the wall of glass, the light so beautiful I can breathe.

Heartbeat of the earth

At the San Felipe Corn Dance, my pulse thrums with ancient chants as 1500 people dance the heartbeat of the land. It is by their grace that I am here.
Hours later, with Raven by my side, I look for spirit carvings amidst the traditional regalia of whole fox pelts and skunk anklets. Frowning and smiling like a god with two faces, a Zuni fetish seller says, "No, I don't have ravens, they are not good signs for us."
"Don't listen to him, " Raven hisses in my ear. "Be polite, then walk away." So I do.
"Tell our stories," says Raven as he perches on my shoulder, each pinpoint of his claws reminding me of the path I am meant to be taking.

Knowing Raven ( on 10" x 13" paper) is drawn with pen, pencil, heart and mind, as are the other denizens of the Listening To Raven series.
As to raven and carved Zuni fetishes---my first little raven, black marble with turquoise eyes, perches on my work table atop a lapis heart. Both were gifts from dear friends in Santa Fe. While creating Truth and Memory, a carved pair of ravens bound together with turquoise and coral sat watching on the paper's edge. All three were discovered at Keshi in Santa Fe.
The story of why this mermaid came to live in the high desert begins with Drawing Raven.

The Compass of My Heart

Displayed until May 29 at City Hall in Santa Fe, this intricate drawing came to me in a dream:

A Compass glinted between Raven’s feet as he lengthened his legs to land. It had been a bad day—a friend in Florida had been shot, not killed, by some crazy teenager with a 357 Magnum the color of raven feathers.
Raven, as gravel-voiced as Tom Waits, announced his arrival. I offered a flat hand, palm up, as one would to a dog, my mother’s voice in my ear, “Always palm up, so they won’t be threatened,” she’d whisper, the thin white scar from the bite embroidered right above her eyebrow. Big dogs scared her. She tried to pass on her fears to me, but I decided to just be polite to the muscled boxer down the street, saying “Excuse me,” if I ran by him.
“Don’t run; he’ll chase you. They can smell fear,” warned my mother, but for much of my life I have smelled like musk and exotic flowers.
Raven released a silvery roundel that fit well into the palm of my hand. The sun’s shadow quivered like a hound as tiny animal shapes in turquoise and black marble moved restlessly around the sides.
Raven danced next to me, scratching out a tune in the dirt as I examined the intricate inlay of purple sugalite, orange coral and bright turquoise.
Wings whisked the air as he lofted onto my shoulder, nuzzling his beak into my hair.
“What is this?” I asked him as he preened me, rubbing his head against mine, combing through my hair with his beak, tickling along my hairline.
“Pay attention to what I’ve brought you,” he murmured.
I stroked his head and back, trying to read the compass of my heart.