Archive for April, 2014

185. Two good friends in the tree house

Two good friends in the tree house

Two good friends in the tree house

This is a painting from two days ago. I did not write about all of the art that I made. Many times there is a painting to write about but I want to paint more, so a gap forms. I wanted to clear everything or actually to accept everything. So does it mean that I have to write about every painting that I do and never skip?

There are things to be gained. But the rule should be, that’s what I think: To do what feels good.

So there are no rules except for this.

I came back from the bathroom, which was a struggle with pain. I sit here, think a few thoughts and almost fall asleep. Pain and tiredness are in my experience today. Is it going to be another day of not being able to do anything of consequence? How can you think and feel good enough to want to do things at all when in such a pain all day long and so tired all the time? I just want to sleep. Desperately I want to sleep and I can’t.

I saw a few funny videos, I spoke with my deeper aspect, and I have a better mood now.

So it is all about the mood.

The feet feel as if it is the last frontier now. Everything is raw and hurting. It is all coming back to life. I am getting younger. I go back in age.

What do I see in this painting?

To me these are two friends (I and my deeper aspect) in the tree house, my imaginary tree house, looking at the beautiful water bodies, mountains and forests. There is a strong sense of friendship and a serene, good time. This is where decisions are made about what I want to do next, and what I want to experience. This is what it is for me. I knew this when I painted. I used acrylic gouache mixed with transparent gesso to create the color areas that show brush marks. I mixed the colors carefully and liked the process. This way of painting works well with the watercolors, when I paint on canvas.

After I made this painting I felt good for quite a while, maybe half a day. I kept coming back to it to feel the friendship again.

I’ll leave this at that

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184. The final acceptance of everything

Beautiful despair

Beautiful despair

I am starting this project. The final acceptance of everything.

It will be like Dzogchen throutgh art.

And I start from this painting, which I did at night, around 1 am, with the experience of this strong and crazy pain that was sharper than the usual, to which I have gotten used already.

I prop the painting up against the basket with the pencils and brushes on my table and the light from above is good to it, emphasizing the texture of the canvas.

My general view is that there is the group of many colors, heavy on the upper right and after some space there is that brown branch, maybe falling away, overwhelmed by the weight of that group and even breaking down .

Then there are two penciled dry and sharp branches and something strange, also penciled on the upper left. And of course there are the shadows, the areas I painted with pencil.

What do these do to each other?

The big multi colored area seems to have a lot of sadness. All the shapes are sending fingers or hands to nowhere, searching for something they already know they won’t find. Presenting again and again the idea of I want but I know I can’t. This creates a very disquiet, nervous cloud. It is beautiful in its sadness. It becomes almost like a tapestry or a physical “thing” and it even has some shadows, to show that it is real, it is three dimensional, and you can touch it. These are thoughts becoming things. There are a few places where a few parts become messy, blending into each other uncontrollably, crying into each other.

The introduction of the penciled branches into this area introduces another distinction into the game, between more real and less real or maybe between soft and hard. The bareness of the penciled branches feels poor, hungry for love, hardened by hard life. It seems that the lower penciled branch supports the whole cloud on its back and keeps it from hitting the brown branch harder. That brown branch is losing in a way. It is falling down, broken, as if escaping the vengeance of the colorful cloud.

The only hope that this falling brown branch has is that it will find something good when it goes up along the left side of the painting, but the place it comes to is empty. There is only darkness there, a tear-drop and an empty shape.

So where is the power in this picture?

The power is in the observation, in the ability to see all of this so clearly with all of its complexity and simplicity. It is like a poem on despair.

In summary the picture says:

I’m searching. I know I’m not going to find. I am beautiful but sad. I am helped by dry and dead sticks, which are searching just like me. But they are already hardened by the experience of not finding and they do not even have hope. Some part of me is afraid of this despair. It is trying to escape, still hoping to find love and fulfillment, but we know already, looking at the picture, that there is none of these in it.

It is funny that what looks in superficial sight beautiful and maybe playful and colorful actually describes sadness and despair.

So was I desperate when I drew this?

No. I was shocked by the intensity and sharpness of the pain that made me jump out from bed and come here, to this table at night, I remember what I wanted to achieve. I wanted to disperse the confusion that I felt and the shock.

It did this to a degree. After that I slept.

The beauty was very important to me. Without feeling the beauty I would be dissatisfied and restless. What does it mean to me?

When a painting comes out beautiful (For me, as I experience it), I know I have connected to my larger aspect, the non physical part, the real, what we sometimes call “home”. Connecting with the real, all that is not real will start moving. Movement is life, is health, is hope, is everything good. This is the principle of all healing.

I have to give some background.

Everybody believes that what I have is a degenerative disease. People who have this don’t heal. They progressively (what an unfitting word) become more debilitated. Living in this environment, I totally believe that I am healing. Parts of my feet that were totally numb for maybe twenty years are hurting now. All through this healing process they kept hurting more and more. For everybody else this was a sign that things were getting worse. For me it is a sign that life is coming back to where it was blocked. I don’t know why I wanted my healing to hurt. But I know that like everything else, this too is a decision I made at some point. I spoke about this little kid a few entries ago and he may be the source of this idea.

When the pain became too hard for me to take, I looked for some medications and I thought about it as some aid to help me pass these last stages. I needed to sleep. But the medications started to have an effect on my alertness and sensitivity to the subtleties of my perceptions. This was too much for me to give up, and I let the medications go instead. My sharpness of sensitivity is back and I have to deal with the pain without the help of the meds. It will be through the acceptance of my response.

183. When the blue comes in

How the good appeared in the mundane

How the good appeared in the mundane

Can’t sleep. The phenomenon called pain is very active. And in addition there is some energy in me. I don’t now what it is. But it makes me awake. I slept for three hours. I am very awake and clear. I come to the studio and do this drawing. At first, before I put the colors in, it looks like a confused body of energy being intruded by old habitual dark thoughts. But I feel the urge to put colors in. I start with the diagonal horizon. I know that this is how I want it. Then I know where the next area will be and the next and next.

At one point something, maybe the sleeve of my pajamas, touched some wet color and dragged a line into the white. It looks good to me as it is and I let it be.

Sometimes in sessions with others I go into such places, because they are where there is a break from the rules of good behavior of the picture, that offers a glimpse of freedom. On the one hand I did not intend this to happen. But on the other hand there is nothing that appears in my reality that is not called for by some of my vibrations. So it makes a lot of sense to dive into these spots. But in this case, I just like the way it came out and ignore it.

As soon as I finish the blue areas, and it is done in that late night hour with the clarity and patience that I feel, I see the beauty. Somehow the piece changed from being bleak to hopeful. There is enough space in and between the shapes of confusion and habitual nagging, to let the true light come through. The dreams of beauty and goodness came to play and changed everything.

The diagonal horizon takes the stability away from what seems like the reality of my thoughts. The stability that the blue areas give is independent of that reality. It can fill reality up and then reality becomes different altogether.

Yes, we can do that.

182. Father came to visit in a dream

For some time, faces wanted to come into my abstract drawings. It took me some time to let them in. They were persistent.

Someone appears

Someone appears

An eye and a nose

An eye and a nose

Almost a face

Almost a face

A face

A face

Late at night, which is already the next day’s morning, on 4/2/14 I came to my table to write:

I see now and admire the child, the little child, furious and angry, and taking upon himself to punish himself forever for his belief that he killed his father. He came to my drawings too.

 

The furious child

The furious child

I love him so much and admire him for his undertaking. If I had to choose the child that I could be, this is the one I would choose.

But he is punishing me now.

And even now, when I am almost 70, I am not sure yet: Have I killed my father?

I feel the child’s presence in me or in the same space that I occupy, being some form of energy like me. I am him and he is me.

How do I solve this?

My father came to me this night in a dream, very close. I felt his unshaved beard on my cheek, maybe as I did experience in my childhood. He came to show me that he loves me.  I know he does not carry anger from that time. I met him before.

I wake up and come to my studio to write.

Father, did I kill you as a child? Did you die because I thought that I wanted you to die?

No kid. I died because I had it in my own mind that I would die. You cannot kill anybody really. Every one of us determines his own life experiences.

But I wanted you to die so that I’d have Mom for myself. And indeed you died. So from my perspective I killed you.

You are not real, Giora. “You” is an illusion. All the stories that you create are illusions. No one can ever die in truth, because he does not really exist. So it is like a movie, where one actor shoots another actor and nothing happens except for the illusion that it did.

Do I have to be angry at myself? Do I have to punish myself?

No. You are god playing. And what a story you have created! Your pain is an illusion too. In truth, nothing can ever happen to you. So you had created this horrific story. Now you know it is not real. And you know that you are pure love, still playing in this illusion of life on earth. You can choose differently. You can choose to live happily and healthily. You can change the whole story from its beginning to its end. It is like one of your children’s books. You are in control. Change the story. Make it so that your father lived for many years after the war. Make it so that you have lived with a father who loved you every day. Make it so that you are still loving and laughing together about all the stories that you participated in together. It is my deeper aspect who is talking now.

Look at the whole universe that you have created and keep creating all the time. You can change a little detail in this huge thing. You can understand that it was just a choice of the plot line.

But if it is only a story and not real, why would I want to change it?

For the same reason that you keep changing your story all the time. To make it feel better. To experience other experiences in this illusion game. Don’t you want to see how it is to live without that guilt, without withholding love?

It is up to you of course. But we (My deeper aspect talks as “we” sometimes) want you to feel better, so that you will create better places and lives. Your character does not need to suffer at all.

This child that you were in your story was indeed admirable. You can love him still. And you can give him a better life. Let him learn how to be healthy, how to live without guilt and self-punishment. Let him soar.


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The healing process

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