Healing and growth through intuitive art
There was some noise in his mind
He saw something
He read
About a man
Ancient drawings
And faces
And there was the pain
The lack of sleep
The struggle
He turned to peace
And out of nowhere
From far and from close
Softly touching
Orbs of air
Or softer than that
Came
He closed his eyes
And they organized
Themselves
Based on his love
To a new
Original thought.
Birds can fly
They are not afraid of heights
A bough
Is a home for them
Sometimes they would fight
for a good one
Then they’d sleep
Almost standing
Birds start to sing
Even before the sun arrives
Birds are soft
And hard
And I
What is hard and what is soft
In me?
What am I afraid of?
What will my dreams be like
If I have to keep my balance
At night?
Will I sing
In the morning?
When I was very young, there were geckos on the screens of the windows in my room, hunting flies and moths. And beyond the screen birds were standing on the windowsills. Then they would fly to the trees that surrounded the house.
In the evenings many birds would fight for the good boughs, making a huge noise. Then they’d settle down and sleep, sitting on their folded legs that held on to the thin branches. They did not have homework to do. I loved their boldness as they peeked into my room, with the excitement of having just flown still alive in them.
Today, when I close my eyes and imagine what a good life is for me, I see myself flying above the landscape, almost like the birds, but I flap less with my hands. I just have to think forward and I fly. And when I settle on a bough, at the top of the tallest tree, I do not shout. There is nothing to fight for. The world comes to me.
The mountain range is dreaming
It throws little lakes around
And casts reflections
In ochre and purple
When the sun goes down
To meet the mountains
The mountains cry
To the sky
And the other little mountain
Alone at the side
Oh,
Is in awe
The pain in my feet is hard to take. The body does not like it. The subconscious thinks it is terrible and something must be done immediately. I sit on the bed and place the more hurting foot over the other foot. I put my two palms on two different places between the knee and the pelvis. I want to feel both palms, as they touch the leg, at the same time. Not to move my attention from one to the other. Together. It is impossible to do with effort. I know already. So I relax as much as I can. I tell myself: Go empty. Go empty. Empty. I give away thoughts and worries. I feel calm for a moment. The pain goes crazy but for just a moment There is calm. In that moment the experience of the two palms touching in their different spots comes to me. It is not me chasing after the experience. It comes to me. It does not come to the mind but to the heart.
I stay in the experience. Within the environment of crazy pain, there is an area of peace, in which the experience of two separate hands touching two different places on the leg somehow continues to exist. I leave my attention there. I keep being careful not to make an effort. I just tune into experiencing the two touches. And the calm starts to grow.
Then there is a relaxation of the whole body. After some time the pain fades out from the foot that hurts more. Now it moves to the other foot and I continue. This is a healing state.
Sometimes the peace grows and I feel that I am the peace. Then the event of the pain in the body looks like an interesting event in eternity. And it is as if I am the little mountain at the side.
intuitiveflow 