Archive for the 'energy' Category

406. The inner sun

This is the first painting on a new batch of water color paper from Italy.

It is cold pressed, but quite smooth. And the sizing is such that it lets the pigments sink into the paper, instead of keeping therm on the surface, as my previous paper did.

It surprised me, but when I saw this I decided to go along and have softer colors than the usual. After all, I can always strengthen some colors by painting a second layer.

When unexpected things happen to me while I paint, I tend to accept  them as what had to happen. This is how life appears to me and it is my path of the moment.

Now I remember that I actually wanted to have a softer painting, after the harsh effects that one of my previous papers caused by its coarseness and the different sizing it had.

As in many others of my paintings there are hints of fields, trees, clouds and an animal. Here the animal has the body of a big bird but with four legs. I do not think when I paint. If a line suggests itself I make it. Then I add colors and let the suggestions of shapes and colors come to me spontaneously. I do not plan and I never know how the painting will end. I like the unexpected. If I knew how I wanted it to end, what would be the point of making it?

There were two spots that I strengthened after it was done. The place where the brown is almost red, and the darkest green on the tree. Then I knew that it was finished.

I wrote down what I saw. Soft, warm colored fields, something that walks, sun, and the leaning of everything towards the right, as in the handwriting of many people.

I wrote a few versions of crude poems, trying to make sense of what I see. Then shortened and shortened. I took out from the poem everything that was not essential. I was left with this:

We are going to the inner sun

Through our inner fields

That soften as we pass through them.

405. How an animal moves

If you try to explain

How an animal moves

You’ll see

That it does not end

In the here and now.

It always goes

To endlessness.

396. The real is playing with the real to see the real playing

The real
That is also inner
Is playing with me.

The creatures of the world
Come to sit on the tree
To look at the moons
As they move.

It is done
By the hand
The head
And the heart.

And they are nothing but
Movements
Of the real.

So the real
Is playing with the real
To see the real
Playing.

393. The filter

This time I won’t write a poem, but a description .

At first, when I drew, I thought that the lines represented the pain that I experienced, Relentless and continuous.
Then they looked like rain.
And in the end they started to look like trees without leaves, shivering in the cold.

Behind the lines there is a landscape.

The lines are like a filter that you have to pass, if you want to go beyond. You can get caught in the filter and you will suffer pain, rain, cold and longing for leaves.

But you can also pass gently, carefully, sensitively, through the spaces between the lines, and then you will find yourself in the place where it is beautiful.

This, in a way, is the essence of spiritual practice.

You can’t eliminate all the obstructions in your personal filter. Usually there are too many of them. But you can teach yourself how to pass in the spaces among them, to arrive at where there is beauty, love, playfulness and joy. The air from the landscape is already here.

And when your practice is through making art, you are already half way there.

380. A chord

The earth
Displays
All that grow
And live on it
Like a chord
That is played
In silence.

378. Maybe and maybe not?

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377. A man with a beard and a bird

A man with a beard and a bird

It is a mystery
That’s made of nothing
And yet it works

Looking with no eyes
You’ll find
It’s made of
Blocks of dreams
And colors
That are open
To no end.

376. On the river of me

On the river of me

The sun here and there,
The trees, the fields, the lakes,
Some grass, some earth,
A friend, a flower,
A cloud, a bird, a song
And the longing in my heart
As I float
On the river
Of me.

375. Bursting

Bursting

The heart is bursting
It wants to go up
The legs are pushing down
To make the body rise
But there is no ground
To push against
The ribs open up
And break
Shall I go up to the right?
Or left?
Or, maybe, just
Spread myself
Into the universe?

374. Portrait of a man with an idea

At first he looked to his right
Then he changed his mind
Now he is facing us
With interest
This has cleared his mind
From the magnetic fields
Of thinking
Enough
For an idea
To appear.

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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.

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