Archive for February, 2012

97. I have been awake for a while

I have been awake for a while. The color of the sky in the little corner of my window starts changing. I sit at the window seat and look toward the east, along the street that leads to the hospital. I see the lights of the emergency cars, big and blinding. I sense the energy of this area, near the entrance to the emergency room. It is filled with fear and worry and a heroic fight against the fear and the worry, which only makes them stronger, as this is the nature of the mind. And far, way far from the end of the street, even beyond the top branches of the trees lining Sunnyside Park, this is where the real drama happens now. The colors are coming into the day.

I make tea and sit on the window seat for a short while. I am not sure what it is that I am feeling. I go to my studio. Intuition leads me to use only the colors that have remained in the mixing compartments of the watercolor box from years of mixing colors in them (See the box’s picture in entry #58). Some of them are there still from the children’s book “The Miracle of the Potato Latkes” done many years ago, using this watercolor box and the same paper that I am using now (Rives BFK, Moulin du Gue). Every time I use the colors from these compartments I remember that book. It was a strong experience, an adventure and a mystery too to make a whole book by dipping a wet brush in little cakes of color and transferring pigments to a piece of paper, which is also a miracle of thin fibers holding on to each other and carrying on them the marks that I make. And these created a story and generated emotions that made children want to do things, like explore their lives, explore their emotions, feel love and wonder.

I draw. Here is the drawing.

Little children with love

Little children with love

You’d think that by now I’d know what to do with it, but I don’t. I try to look at the big picture and this is what I write, to help me see:

Mainly two parts.

One is a group of differents (The computer dictionary disagrees but I leave the word as it is)

Taking roots

And playing together

Not knowing what’s going on with them (just like me).

The second is love coming from the left

Softly touching

Saying I’m here, I’m loving.

And together, the children start growing

And are full of wonder

Allowing their truth come into them

Fill their bodies

 And activate them

To live as wonder

And love.

96. Up and down, up and away

Crazy times for me.

Not everything is explainable, because reality falls apart.

There is going up to a good mood and then an old habitual sadness/bitterness washes over me. Then again the mood turns, this time into wonder and then reality starts falling apart.

That’s where I am, folks.

Drawing one:

Strikingly decorated

Strikingly decorated

The bird

Was strikingly decorated

And had

A very smart eye

She ate only cones of sugar

And that’s why

There was some confusion

In the way she uttered her words

In a bird like way

She flew

Along the rainbow

In the sky that is inside of all things

She had a golden glow

On the feathers of her chest

The dream that she had

About the engine that runs everything

Made her smile in waves

Like an introverted clown.

The second drawing:

The guarded house

The guarded house

Under the sky of a dark rule

I worked hard

At the river

I saw

A little soft field

With lovely sky above it

Tinged with blood

It is hard to move through the density of the trees

It is hard to enter the angry, guarded house

But when I’m in

Will she be the one who’ll save me?

Or will she be the one

Who will condemn me to death?

The third drawing:

Te world is just behind your forehead

The world is just behind your forehead

What is inside

Is projected out

A fog, like a rage, very much subdued

Just above the eyes

Is out as many things

All collected for your perusal

A rock in a white courtyard

Is a thought

The desert

The golden sand

The striking sky that turns from deep blue to grey

And the distant mountains

Are nothing

But a beautiful cloud

Inside of the forehead.

The forth drawing:

The conductor with the baton of lightning

The conductor with the batons of lightning

The big bird is dancing and falling

The little boy plays with a lizard

The fish learns to fly

The Indian chief

Rows a canoe in the shape of a catfish

Going backwards

The alien alligator holds a branch in its jaw

The roots swim in the water

And all of this happens

Because the conductor holds two batons

Made of lightning.

95. The letter “g”

The letter "g"

The letter "g"

I see it is about the letter “g”

And it is me

Am I falling?

Am I struggling to survive?

Am I becoming a blur of nice colors?

Nice story, fellow

Was nice to meet with you here

On earth.

94. The swan song of the pain



Like calligraphy

As if it is a piece of writing

About something intense

That faded out

About pain that is now breaking apart

About new growth

That had a hard time growing

Because of the weight it carried

About an old support

That is now

Only a shadow of itself

About interactions

That seem to work as a story

How he escaped in shame

How he was wounded and lamenting

How he suddenly remembered a sad occasion

How he moved through villages in the fog

How he was like a child, discovering air

How everything kept disappearing

And only a feeling of growth and amazement


The essence of which is



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My Pages

The healing process

Entries 1-58 show how I use the method of Intuition Through Art to heal myself from Peripheral Neuropathy.