They fell asleep
As they were landing
On earth
They played
With all the colors
That they brought
In their dreams
That always looked
Real
When they finished
They rested their dreams
On the dream of earth
And took the usual bus home
Where they remembered
who they were before.
Now they are leaving again
Forgetting
All they know
The only thing
They bring with them
This time
Are packages of energy
That they will have to
Open.
In my little garden of dreams
I swim
I find the red hard to chew
But the green invites me
The yellows warm me up
The grays advise to rest
I see the screens
That tell of being open and enclosed
I see the big lines
Building lives and falling
But now
It's up to me
I can close my eyes
To have a different thought
And where do you think I'll be
When they will open?
It is clear that this painting has in it a problem in the left lower side. Generally there is joy bursting in it. But look at that corner. Yes, it is the corner of my pain in the legs. It is what prevents me from sleeping, it is what causes me to cry sometimes and keeps me away from walking, going to museums and movies, meeting with friends etc.. and I wonder many times how to deal with it. What am I to do when I am tortured. How to respond? This blog started with the intention to heal through my work on myself, using this method with making art intuitively and then reading it. I have released tons of old sad programs from my subconscious. I saw again and again a bigger picture of our life on our different versions of earth. All these came from this work and you were the witnesses. And yesterday, while the pain has gone even stronger than ever, I painted this. The reading this time does not follow everything that showed up in the painting, but instead responds to how come there is joy there at all, when there is that torture in the corner. And it can also be a guidance, telling me to dedicate myself to doing what feels deeply good, and let the pain issue take care of itself. The poem describes the context for this understanding. The painting process shows me where I am and the writing guides me.
All you want to know
If you ask:
What is good now?
You’ll see that
The light in the room
Is good.
The table that you use
Is good
And supportive
Your hand is very good
For writing now
The floor is wonderful
And the earth
Underneath the building
With all the life
That it holds
Is nothing but
The good of goods
And you'll see
That the existence
Of everything
Is crucial
For this moment
to exist
For you to move
See
And do.
If you find this true
Then you now know
That everything is good
And you understand
What the love
Of the universe
Means.
You see
That you live
Inside of love
And whatever happens
To you
Cannot make you
Fall out
Of this.
And if you wonder
What is it
That you are doing here
and can you
Choose something better?
Then you are exercising
Your unique power
To be one
With this love
And you know
Everything that you
Have to know
About you,
Your life
And
What you want to do.
Maybe
This time it is not
About what is better
And what is worse
But:
Do I want to play
With differences
Or
Shall I rest in truth
For which
Both the righteous
And the villain
Are beloved sons?
I had to carefully compose again after it looked as if I had finished it already. There was a lot to add. It is so easy with this technique. And I fixed it. Now it appeals to me. I made it to appeal to me.
When I think what is new about my late paintings, it is that they are more subtle. There is a sense of joy that bubbles up in them. This sense of joy was in my paintings before too. But the feeling was that it had to struggle more in order to express itself. It was beautiful that it did, and there was a sense of drama in every one of those joy expressions.
Now it feels that the joy is comfortable and playful. It does not struggle in order to be. The dark past is still in the painting. It looks darker than in previous paintings, but it also looks old, weak, dilapidated.
I remember the technique that I developed in healing from far, when I practiced with the group Consciousness Research Institute. I would create a huge dome around myself, full of good energy. Then I’d bring the person to be healed into the dome, to be there with me. And I would feel the discomfort of having with me in the space of the dome someone whose energy did not match with mine. (Just as the pain in this moment is such energy that does not match mine). And I would let this strange energy be a part of me without resistance. Just like having something in your pocket that you don’t necessarily feel comfortable with, but it is there. So you just get familiar with the feeling of it being there, and you go on with the business of life. Going on being, that now includes this uncomfortable feeling. You let it be until it is a part of you that does not stand out any more. It is not uncomfortable any more, but itself as it is.
Strange how difficult it is to explain this and how natural, spontaneous and simple it was to do it.
So now it starts to feel to me that I am, at last, at this very stage with my past. I love the little boy who I was, who struggled so hard, with so much pain and fear, and I can’t but admire how courageous he was, how good hearted. I love him dearly. And at the same time I get less and less impressed by the traumatic influence of that time. The trauma can be seen in the art. But the joy grows as an expression of freedom. Like a beautiful bird that was caged in darkness and, as it comes out of it, grows and becomes the whole scene.
There are delicate structures that may represent the way I explained things to myself, and they are very fragile. They can fall apart easily or change into something else. And in a way they are irrelevant to the joy. Joy is the original state. Thinking is a game, happening inside of joy and sometimes becoming too heavy and obscures the joy that it has come from.
So it is a good thing that the thinking, as it appears in the art, has become lighter and less obscuring.
Look at the dark blue and violet shapes at the bottom right. Don’t they look like old remnants of a war that has ended? Do you feel the relief of being joy that is free from those remnants, a joy that does not struggle to be?
I’d say it is still quite moderate. It is just taking stock of the fact it is here. The child has stopped crying and now is becoming interested in everything.
A garden grows At the top of the soil With a touch of sadness To it
A lonely soul Is leaving Hoping to have it better In another place
There is gold in the earth And next to it A hidden wound A flood of sadness And the body of a man
He is resting now Near water and green He is dreaming Of a life that he could have If he managed to go up To the open air Passing the blood And the tendency of history To pull us down Against our will
In the open air Our garden grows Married To a trauma
But we know Don’t we That every morsel of this scene Is made of gold