In the white waters of the river Ganga my beloved life partner, soulmate, and best friend, was suddenly taken by death.
 

All light disappeared, the future vanished.  All impulse, all dreams, were swallowed whole. I died as well. Staggering forward, howling for grace to find me again, I am guided by an ancient whisper calling me to re-assemble the bones of my soul. To survive by transcribing this living death. To tell the story that will sing the pieces back together again. To glean from my descent some small treasure to share with others who have been cut by this dangerous dance on thin ice, and are still here, living into the mystery... Art is my temple, my teacher, and my therapy. A sacred expression of words and tears and paint and life-blood is within reach, is reaching for me... The veil is thin; I am broken wide open, and in order to heal, something must be born of this. Something must give birth to me. Something with the power to transform this pain...