intuitiveflow

Watercolor box

For two days I printed out all the postings to the blog, collected all the drawings that belonged to them and placed them all together in a box. I thought that the blog would be a book one day. I planned to do this printing and collecting in a slower pace, but something got into me and I did not leave this task until it was done. I read about half of the postings as I was waiting for them to be printed. Maybe I read more. Many pieces moved me again. I knew that this blog is one of the better things that I have done in my life. In the day that I finished printing and collecting drawings, I did not do another drawing for the blog. In the next day I had a feeling that the blog was finished.

I know I will be healed. I still have pain and it is even hard to bear, especially at night. But I know, and I even don’t know how I do, that it is being healed, and some time in the near future I will be without it. I also know that I have found what was behind it. Maybe I have to attend to the arising of feelings from that past life event a few more times. Maybe I have to deal with a few more issues. I surely did not finish working on everything that can be worked on, and I will continue. But I am already over the hill with the issue of the blog. It is not going to be more interesting as a blog and as a book by adding the last steps. 

I remember a story that I wrote years ago one night. I was on a winter retreat and got ill. There was no thermometer in the retreat center, at the feet of the Shawangunk Mountains, but I counted my heartbeats and they were 125 a minute all the time. When we crossed the snow-covered area on the way to the meditation hall I shivered uncontrollably. I took the liberty to sleep a bit more in the morning and go to bed a bit earlier in the night. We were meditating from 5am to 10 pm every day, and I cut off an hour from every end. I felt worse and worse but did not want to go home. I meditated quite well. On the night of the fifth day I decided that I’d go home, because I may die. I had sharp pain in my chest. I was sure I had pneumonia, which turned out to be true. I wanted to call a taxi that would take me to a train station, then, from the other train station, in the end of the line, I would take the Path train and walk a few block to my home. One of the monks said he wouldn’t allow me to do this. Instead he would drive me home, which is a two and half hours trip each way, even with his crazy speed and the empty roads at night. I waited for him to finish the meditation at 10 and he took me home in the organization’s van. I lay in bed and could not sleep. There was a story in me that wanted to be written. I sat at my table and wrote fluently, until I got to a place in the story that I did not know where to go from. I told myself that in the next day I’d know what to do, and went to sleep at last.

In the morning I went to the story and read it, to see where it wanted to go next, but I found that the place where the story stopped was the end. It ended in an open question and this was the best place to stop.

Now I feel the same about this blog. There is no open question here but an open end and I can already see the destination down in the valley. 

So this is the end of part 1 

There is more to do, and the next posting will start part 2.

But before I close the first part I want to give a gift to all those who followed me to the last posting.

Email me your address and I’ll send you a watercolor drawing. It won’t be from the blog because I need those for the book. It will be one of the so many other drawings that I did. I hope you are not too many 🙂

Here is my email: giora.carmi@verizon.net

On the one hand I am starting to teach the method, which has been so good to me and to many others, and this activity feels very good, as you saw. On the other hand everything else crumbles. I don’t have enough patients to sustain a practice. Almost every single patient that I have ever had has changed his or her life for the better, and in a short time left. I am still being invited to present, when I offer to come. People who have found interest in what I do, want to have more of it. And yet I won’t have enough money in the bank this month to pay for my basic needs. It seems that the universe refuses me an easy life.

It reminds me of the last children’s book that I did, “A Circle Of Friends.” It is a book without words that describes what happened when a child decided to leave his muffin to a homeless person, sleeping on a bench. All the people who saw the book in its dummy stage said it was beautiful and moving, but even with three agents, one at a time, pushing it to publishers, all the publishers refused to take it, and this lasted some twelve years. The most experienced agent told me to put it on the shelf and wait a few years. The public is not ready yet, she said. And it stayed on the shelf for two years. When I decided to go to school again to study art therapy, and there was one week left before the beginning of the school year, I took the book for the last time to show it to a publisher and the publisher took it on the spot. Somehow I knew then, that the universe did not want to support me unless I did what the book said. At that time it was: Go and help other people become free of suffering. Once I did, the book was sold. In a way I feel the same now. When you have an aspiration and start going in the new direction, toward fulfilling it, everything else that sustained you before stops. It seems like a betrayal. But it is actually support. It hastens you on your new way. I have decided to trust my intuition entirely, and this is my new way.

But this morning, when I saw that I don’t have enough money, I felt fear.

The following four drawings and four going-in-with-words show the process that I went through with this fear. I don’t have to explain any more. But I want to turn your attention to one interesting thing that we have already met before. Even in the first drawings, when there is no clarity yet, the ingredients of the solution are already there, both in the drawings and in the words. The solution does not change the facts, but it is a view from a different perspective, deeper and more loving.

From solid to fluid

I am falling

From a place I dreamed up

It was all

A pie in the sky

And won’t be here soon

The fallen pieces

Fracture the light 

For a moment

As everything I know

Is streaming out

And turning

From solid to fluid

Everything 

Concrete

Is 

Crumbling

And 

I am

Crying

Out.

Hammer it here

I know what to do

I have the spirit

I can

Here is the big plan

Hammer this here

Magically it will hold

There is some support from the side

The ground is not safe

Hold on to the sky

See how new sprouts are starting?

What a dance!

Remember the pain

That you had?

Red holding on to the old

Something new that I do not know:

Earth and green made of light.

Red is holding on to old

Don’t be afraid

Look at the dots that fly

So light and easy

All is soft around the hard.

Flow

Hold together

But leave it open

Let your truth

Come through your throat

Be light

Include everything

Allow things to come in

From all directions

Don’t question

Connect from your heart

Be unburdened

Flow with ease.

The eagle and the boy

The eagle is putting his hand on the shoulder of the boy

The eagle has a powerful golden crown, good for wars

The boy has a soft, dreamy, eternal blue-sun hat

The eagle holds a golden rod

And is the owner of many rods

The boy has hands of earth

The eagle loves the boy

The boy is getting ready to be independent

He does not need the eagle any more.

The eagle is the anger and the strength of the boy

The boy does not need this strength any more.

The boy is about playing.

What I get from this is that the boy has adopted this eagle-dream in order to be strong and able to take revenge for having been harmed and shown as weak. I remember myself imagining that I was a hero in my childhood. My father looked like a hero to me. His disappearance early in life opened the field of experience to the study of living without a hero to support me.

The boy invented the eagle.

The rods are erect penises. The boy wanted the eagle to give him these, which he saw as manifestations of power and as a way to control others, especially women. The boy thought he could not live without the eagle and his gifts, because it would have been too dangerous. It seemed that the eagle loved the boy and responded to the boy’s wishes. It may be true. After all, the boy invented the eagle to do just this. But now the boy has come to a place where he does not need this any more. He is blessed. He feels being loved, and called to only be-who-he-is. Being-who-he-is, is freeing. There is no fear in that and there is constant fulfillment.

The boy used to be afraid to be without the eagle.

Now, the last frontier of fear has been crossed.

The pain has become constant. Day and night the currents of energy going through both my feet seem to tear my flesh as they pass through the nerves. This night there was nothing that I could do to stop the pain. I could meditate. I did. I paid attention to all my experiences. All the physical experiences, the mental, the emotional, the pictures, the sounds. I do not have many thoughts. Hardly any, most of the time. But there are the very faint ones, running somewhere in the background like whispers. These I feel as if they are traffic on the road. And there are images. The images change pretty fast, and when I look at them I forget the pain. When I see the images, I tell myself every now and then: Let’s see what the next image will be. This is a thought that I have decided to have, so I can see how the images start and end and I can detect the space between images, when I wait for the next image to come.

This is how I passed the night. I slept about an hour and a half in the last dark hours.

Sitting at my table, and I feel love as I am writing this, I did this drawing of pain.

Pain

I did not make a poem this time. There was no need. I just wrote what all the parts wanted:

What do the blue parts want?

To rot

To find more flesh to kill

To spread disease

To sleep.

(This makes me think that the idea of Lyme-Disease may be true.)

What do the red parts want?

To flow

To flower

To move

To bring the messages out

To live with a purpose

What do the thin lines want?

To call for help

To get in touch with the outside world

To help the big red parts

What does the yellow want?

To carry the truth

To bring light

To point at eternity

What does the space want?

The space is eternity

What is the energy of my pain?

(This question relates to what I wrote in the previous posting, about the necessity for energy of nerve pain to be in my system, in order for me to have nerve pain.)

The answers:

All this together

The rotten parts of the flow

The pain of wanting to communicate about the problem

The potential (to grow and flourish, to be free of pain)

Then I asked myself:

What need do I perceive?

And the answer was:

The need for a stronger light.

I decided to let intuition do it for me, if this is what intuition will do. When you use intuition you have to be willing to accept whatever it will bring, even if it is against what you think. But in this case intuition did what I thought. You see, when we are in a process that makes us intuitive, our thoughts and intuition are the same.

When we follow our sense of beauty, we tune in to that level.

Here is what intuition drew:

Light

And after the drawing, these words came, and I did not change them.

A much greater light is coming

It is hard for the body to contain

The body is changing its energy

I should let go of everything

That keeps the old body

As it cannot any more be.

At this moment I knew that this new energy in me was ushered in by Trivedi. Trivedi is an Indian saint who is in America now. I took an energy blessing from him, about two months ago. He said that his energy works on the intuitive level and enables a better connection to eternity. I did not feel anything when the energy giving was going on. But now I felt his presence and I knew it was from him. Similar things have happened to me many times in the past. Especially when I had deep experiences in meditation retreats. Many times I felt the presence of my teacher in my experiences, as if he was watching from the side and knew what was going on, even if he was not in the room. Later, in the evening talks he would ask me to tell what had happened to me during the day.

It is a strange period of time. I am waiting to start a series of workshops about intuition.

I had an idea about financing the book that I have written. I mentioned it to my partner and she rejected the idea very strongly. This stopped me in my tracks. I became frozen for a few days, and like a person with no direction.

Her opposition made no sense. She did not know the details. And yet it stopped me. My reaction also made no sense. I have done things before that she rejected, and they turned out to be wonderful. My trip to Tokyo, where I introduced this way of working with art to an international community of creative arts therapists was one such thing and ended up being a big success. About two hundred people attended my presentation and it had lead to an invitation to write a chapter for a book and to many connections.

Why did it stop me now?

Because I am working on myself now, and everything is raw. There is no protection. One of my sad memories is of me wanting to change the direction of my education while in high-school into something that I could enjoy and my mother’s vehement rejection. It was the same kind of rejection that my partner presented.

While in comma, I did a few drawings. All kept telling me to go on. It took three of them to convince me. When I felt the love that was coming from my intuition, I suddenly was able to catch what had happened. Only love can repair not-love. And sometimes it takes quite a bit of the good experience to convince us. This case in particular shows the power of this method. I was in a state of confusion. An inner program jumped into action and froze me. I did not even know why I was like that. When I turned to my intuition, it just streamed love, trust and wisdom through my imagination. I was able to read it and got my sense of safety back. Only then, I suddenly understood what had happened. This also shows that understanding is not something to seek in order for the process of healing to happen. Understanding may happen in the end of the process, after the barriers to love have been dissolved. Healing has nothing to do with understanding. It has to do with replacing fear with love.

All of these are an internal affair.

Here is the first of these three drawings.

Whispering light

And the poem:

By feeding energy to the plant

And keeping a special light

The whispering ally helps me know

That I am already moving

And will be totally different soon

Not as I am now

Knowing with limitations

But with peace

And light.

The second drawing:

The space between the two

And its poem:

Roll and giggle, children

The space between the two of you

Is full of good things

Venture out from under the skirt

Dream

You do not need perfection

Reflect the sky

That does not keep a secret

Move until you’re tired

Then

Make a tent

Play a bit before you sleep

And sprawl.

This morning I got an email from the bank, telling me that I am in overdraft. I suddenly felt sad and desperate. In the past I would have gone crazy, trying to find whatever way I could save myself. Today I took the paintbrush:

New Limbs

And this is what my intuition said:

New limbs

Always grow

From the most hurting place

And the most wounded

Not from a quiet pool.

Falling down and getting up

From the blood bath

Is what had happened before.

Now eternal light

Is the source of growth.

No more struggling.

I became peaceful. I sat down and started to plan the best ways to transfer the gift that I have received, which is this very method. I had new ideas and I feel good now. I know I am doing what is best for me and for everybody.

Perforated T

I see my mother suddenly in my imagination.

I feel so sad for her bad experiences.

Mom, I say, I think you can go free now. I don’t hold anything against you any more. I know what you had gone through. I know you did not know what you were doing. I forgave you already. I love you.

She calls me in the name that she used as endearment, Giora’le. She smiles. She has a shiny smile. I love you, Giora, she says. Nothing remained in her face from the sense of deep refusal that I saw when I had to identify her body for the Jewish death ceremony.

Do you remember how I mended your old, good for nothing T-shirt?

Does she ask me, or am I asking her?

Yes, I remember. We smile at each other. It was a T-shirt that was ready to be thrown away. It had so many holes. I was visiting her in Israel. Maybe that shirt was used as pajamas.

She sewed the holes and said she wanted to repair it. Her sewing was terrible. She never was good in sewing. I don’t know what had gotten into her. This was a most useless thing to do. But I let her do it, because I felt that she was giving love through this. She had to give me love for her own good. She knew that she had caused me trauma in the past and this was a wise thing to do. She knew that I was going back to America and she was getting old.

I feel like crying now. She is smiling again this shiny smile. If you knew the light here you would never cry, she says. She does not really say this, but I know that this is what she wants me to know.

My heart is torn. There was so much that I wanted from her. There was so much fear that I felt about her. There was so much agreement to be limited, that I took from her. It is not here any more. I can extend my hand into the space and touch it, so to speak. It cannot be done really, but I feel so. I feel the light too. When I put both my hands around the hurting foot, a bit away, sending energy from the palms, I can experience that energy as the light of eternity.

I turn my palms toward Mom and send her that energy now.

I do not need words for that.

Enough with them.

Remember the javelin in my foot?

So when you have such a strong pain, what do you decide?

Maybe you decide that you don’t want to feel the wounded foot? It is so strong that you don’t want to feel it. You’d do anything you can to not feel it.

Well, what about becoming numb?

And what about the guilt feeling for something that you did, and the feeling that actually you deserve to be punished and you deserve to feel the pain. You are not good. You need to be punished.

And what about being afraid that if your foot hurts, everybody will know that you did something wrong? A bit crazy thinking, but the subconscious is like that. Don’t look for logic there.

A nice mixture, isn’t it?

And it fits perfectly with becoming numb on the one hand and having pain on the other.

Also, when you really do not want something to happen, what happens? It happens. 

In spite of the fact that all of it makes sense, I do not have a strong feeling about what I write.  

So I am going to ask intuition: Is this true?

I ask. Once I ask, the answer is there already. Intuition knows and does not need time to find out. All I have to do is draw, following my sense of beauty, not knowing what I draw, just following my inner clues. This can be called living a loving attention.

This is the drawing:

Blood in the water

And these are the words.

There are things that we carry

Even when we come to rest

And be quiet

I am lowering my head tiredly

Soon I’ll have a baby

Who will want mommy’s attention

But oh, so much blood is coming downstream

Play my baby

There is blood on my clothes

And in the water.

When I look for myself there I don’t find me. It is not me. I do not feel any connection, except for the idea of a mother and a child.

Especially in the way the mother tells the child to go on playing, in spite of the fact that, or while she is seeing blood in the water and on her clothes.

I realize that the trauma I kept speaking about has left me and is not in me any more. All that I did before, to expose that trauma to the stream of intuition and the theta healing that I did at night helped. This drawing represents something else.

One of the energy healers I spoke with guided me in finding that I was carrying a lot of other people’s stuff. It can happen. We are empathetic people. If we are sensitive enough, we can collect the energies of other people’s emotional baggage.

Before I started this blog I drew my mother and father one day. I did not really draw them, I did a drawing that had two shapes in it, and I knew that they were my father and mother. I became curious about them and decided to go into them. What does it mean? I decided to imagine that I dive into that part of the picture that represents one of them and then into the other. When I am deep inside that form, as I imagine, I draw an intuitive drawing. The question that I have in my mind is: What can be found in this?

When I drew inside of my father there was a lot of ease, self love and love to others. When I drew what I felt in the form that represented my mother I had a drawing of the kind that I saw so many times in my practice: The expression of being abused. There was a lot of darkness and self-cancellation, in the barren landscape of neglect. I dove into this drawing, to go even deeper and this time it was even clearer. There was a feeling of a little girl, totally alone in an environment of horrors, with just a tiny bit of what I could feel as very dim, frightened self love. I realized then that my mother carried from another life the experience of being terribly abused. She did not know that. It did not happen in her last life, the one that we shared. This last life had a lot of trauma too, but not of that kind. In her behavior, the trauma that she carried with her from another life was felt. It made her do a few things that were totally out of character. She was my only anchor at the time of my childhood. I learned her energy very well, and made it my own. Growing up and being sexual, in that energy, were things to be extremely fearful about. So we have come to another energy entity to give my attention to.

And now, this poem, which I could not decipher before, becomes very clear.

The things that we carry are the energy memories of past traumas. We have them even in this relatively calm life that we may have now.

The struggle to live with the emotional reactions to this makes one tired.

The baby should play and not know what his mother feels. He should stay a baby and play forever, so he can never grow to be in the state in which he can make others bleed.

I have a terrible night with the pain. It is strong all the time and does not stop, in spite of all my tricks. Maybe I sleep a little here and there. Not much. The pain is strong all the time. I sit and do EFT. This is a strong technique and usually it makes the pain subside at least to 40% of its power. This time it does nothing. All I know is that I do not know and I do not understand anything. I don’t know. I don’t know. My mind is blank.

At 4AM I am at my table.

Want

The horribleness of doing

Hides the idea of need

As if this needed thing

Is out there

Belonging to another.

I am surprised to feel the horribleness of sexual violence from another life.

I have the thought that my pain may have something to do with Lyme disease.

I heard an interview with Brent Phillips, A teacher of Theta Healing, who had nerve pain and found in the end that it was due to Lyme-Disease. His pain did not stop until he found this out. He said that in order to get Lyme-Disease, one must have in his energy system the energy of Lyme-Disease. I am sure it is true. Nothing ever happens to us without us having the energy that calls it to be. Where is the energy of nerve pain in me, I think? Can it be that it is connected to this past life memory? As I am writing this now, I have these words in my mind: Yes! Yes already! Are you deaf, or what? But I did not have this thought in the night.

I write more: 

Partial healing is finding a way to have what is natural.

Complete healing is finding oneness.

I do another drawing.

Desire

And another one. 

Desire 2

This poem is for the two drawings together.

Her body is soft

I am shaking

As I walk

Near the bamboo plant

My body dripping

Beads of sweat.

Again this memory..

I do another drawing.

Everything moves like smoke

The energy

The shapes

The emotions

And even the horror

Swirl like smoke

That is one moment here

Then gone. 

You see? Just drawing again and again and reading the drawing again and again creates a movement. The movement is the natural behavior of anything that we attend to closely, while not holding on to it. The intensity of the feelings and the memory decline. The forms of thoughts become formless. There is a sense of relief and of wellbeing.

The next night, as I lay in bed, I listen to a CD of clearing trauma in the Theta Healing way. It guides me and helps me in releasing all the reasons for keeping the memory of trauma. Then there is a release of the trauma itself. I had this CD at home for a few months, but never listened to it. It so happened that the day before, I listened to part 1, which is about entering the Theta state. This night I, naturally, took #2 and it is about trauma. You see how life helps?

I do all the releasing and with a very good feeling, fall asleep.

Another step was done.

One drawing can have two different meanings, and both can be right.

Thoughts

If I look at the composition, it looks like different characters, each being busy with his own plan, work or play. They belong to some collaborative effort. They are different from each other but somehow live in the same space and do some work together. This work is made of the many different parts. Every one of them does his own independent work and somehow it all adds up to a collaborative business. Some carry an empty balloon or space bag. Together they may look like a part of a body tissue, or maybe a busy mind, receiving and sending information in all directions. All this business is very close to becoming an empty space. If just some of them move out of the picture and then the others, having no connections to support them, fall out too, suddenly there will be emptiness there, with nothing or not much in it. Maybe one thought will pass through this space every now and then and be noticed in the awareness.

When you meditate, this can happen to you.

This is one impression. 

Another meaning can come up by going-in-with-words. In this case I collected their occupations, or what they were busy doing, as I imagined by looking at each individual figure. I did this process before I looked at the composition, so this “reading” came first, and the other one, above, was second. 

This one gave the following poem.

Me and my mind

I am hanging out here

You come in a friendly way

I say I am here

You say I love you

I cast a shadow

With a purple light

You slide on it

And dive

Into the depth

I spit light

You dance into the darkness

I direct and support you as you go

You fly happily and magically

Away.

Are the two connected?

Let’s give it a try.

All those busy figures, going in different directions and doing different things, having different characters, all of them together are the mind.

Cast a shadow, and the mind will slide on it.

Spit some light, and your mind will dance into the darkness. It may. It does not always do what you want it to do. 

Every part of the mind is busy doing something else, every part has its memory to carry and program to perform. They do not work together really, they are chaotic, but somehow it seems that they are one mind, serving us with love.

If we accept all this busyness and allow it to do whatever it is that the different parts do alone and together, it will fly out magically and the empty space will be the experience that is left.

I remember a very peaceful man talking to an audience. When he talked, he was very alive with his movements and his voice. He looked at the audience, smiled, asked questions and made the audience participate. Then there was a break. Since he had nothing to do but wait for the second part to begin, this man just sat quietly and did not move, as if he was a sculpture. He had no expression on his face, but rest. After all his busy parts of mind finished doing their work, he stopped giving them energy and his mind became empty. Can you do that? Can I?

All these thoughts come now, as I try to connect the two strokes of interpretation together into something that probably resembles the state of my subconscious mind.

This writing was done as I had earphones on my ears and I was listening to sounds of nature with binaural sounds that made my mind go into the dream state while being awake. At first I was peaceful and almost fell asleep. I am always tired these days because I do not sleep well enough at night due to the pain. But suddenly I felt like writing about this drawing, which I made last night. All these words came out of me in a state of dream. They are my dream. You were in my dream.

Just before I started writing I had a wave of pain and a few fleeting images went through my mind. They were of me escaping a crowd, a javelin is thrown at me, and it goes into my left foot exactly into the place that hurts now.

It came to me to draw the nerves. It happened when I was in pain and drew, of course, without knowing what I was doing. I did not draw the pain as before. When I finished I thought that it looked like nerve cells that were trying desperately to connect and it did not work. They still had a too large distance between them. The way they curled and shook felt like the pain that I was experiencing. The way they got knotted felt like something that happened to them and maybe was the cause of their difficulty to connect.

Nerves, not connecting

Then I thought: Why won’t I draw the nerves again and see what will intuition do.

Painful nerves, streamlined

It seems that intuition wanted to streamline the nerves, the messages and the movement of energy but the colors are still colors of pain. 

I drew again some time later. It still was on my mind, which I took to mean that I still did not finish a process that wanted to be completed. 

More information moves through

What did it do? The messages became richer and varied. Energy was moving through, but with quivering and pain. This is true to the way my nerves are nowadays. I have more sensation in the skin of the feet than I had a few weeks ago. Sensation is coming back. It feels as if the nerves are actively growing back into the places where they were deteriorated, and in this process, the order of how the condition started and became worse is reversed. Places that hurt in the beginning, many years ago, like the soles of the feet, and then got totally numb, are hurting again now.

A few days later, in pain, I draw again and it also seems to be the nerves.

A tense-full center moving out

When I went-in-with-words, this is what it said:

A nerve speaks up 

I am shaking

I touch

And the nerve I touch

Touches another nerve

We fly

I curl

I turn around and hold on

There are a million attachments around me

And they all travel out now

Gathering around a tense-full center

On its way out.