Archive for the 'evolving' Category

267. What is there?

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Thinking again about the choice of doing the blog as my direction.

It may feel as if I am an ant, crawling on a topographical map, among hills and valleys in brown and green. And it can also be seen as if I am the sky that is getting involved with the hills, the valleys and the ants.

Somehow it seems that doing the blog is the most forgiving occupation. It doesn’t hold you to a verbally defined commitment. You have seen it going in different directions. One day it was centered on poetry as it looks at life in a fluid way, not entrapped in what seems to be reality, but flowing away from boundaries of shape and time.

Another day I looked at my subconscious beliefs, as they could be detected in my artwork. These beliefs are what mask the truth.

Sometimes discussions of artworks spilled over to glimpses of how things are in these ever-changing worlds, yours and mine.

It can go anywhere.

And don’t forget that it started as a description of self-healing, and almost instructional pieces about the method that I came to find, use and share, and you could read how I viewed the sources of illness (In the ’About’ page).

This is why choosing a direction settled quite easily, in the end, into taking this blog-making as my thread, the line in the middle of my path of choosing and doing. It is a direction without a goal, but with a compass. It has no end. And I’m sure that along the way I’ll be healed from the physical ailments and more and more clearly will be living as an expression of the truth, knowingly.

For one year, when I was 21, I worked as a surveyor’s assistant in a copper mine. Two of us, the assistants, were given the geologist’s instructions to the miners about which direction to dig now, and we descended into the dark tunnels with headlights, heavy batteries attached to our belts and the surveying equipment, to mark with little metal pegs that we hammered into the rocks, which are the new directions in the different faces of the mine.

Sometimes we sneaked away to some neglected, dead end tunnel, far from the noise and sweat of the digging machines. We would sit quietly on the damp earth and turn off the lights on our helmets. We would be then in total darkness, such that you cannot find outside of the mine.

The world would disappear and we would hold our breath.

Why do people do things like this?

I think it is to find the truth. What is there, when everything is gone?

What is there?

265. My heart has been here already (the door)

You will have to imagine the picture for this entry.

Imagine a few wide horizontal lines, painted with a soft pastel in brown, any brown that you like. The lines overlap and, together, create one thing that travels now and now and now. It travels joyfully, like a dolphin in water. Sometimes one of the lines becomes bigger. At other times another one does it. Sometimes the colors change. Let it be painted by your heart.

Now in words.

The big picture:

I hear a bird outside. I don’t recognize it. But somewhere, in a deep place in me, Of course I know it. And I think: this bird sings from my heart. Then I think: everything that happens in this world comes from my heart. The buildings, the people on my block. There are many of them. I live in New York City. The street here is like a canyon. The precipices on each side are made of some eight floors apartment buildings that are more than a hundred years old. The number of people who live on my block is probably 300 times greater than the number of people who lived in the village of my youth.

And everything, all these people, the dust and soot, the funny and strange cars, the way the sunlight manages to come in and paint parts of the walls, all are coming from my heart.

This is the big picture for our purposes now.

The small picture:

What do I want to do?

For 14 years I was a designer, and changed to an illustrator. Then, after 17 years I changed to an art therapist. Now, 13 years later, I’m changing again. The change happens by itself. Usually people don’t let the change go through, because, logically, it does not make sense to start everything anew, when the old thing is working already and even gets you some recognition and acknowledgement.

But I learned not to stand in the change’s way, because I suffer if I do not follow my heart.

So the new thing was here already and was doing itself. It did not come from any ’sense-making.’ But I did not recognize this clearly yet.

At first I thought I wanted to live like an artist now. The studio was calling me. All the paints were getting excited.

But I also wanted to write and make books and children’s books. My life would be too bad without making them.

And what about living on the path that leads deeper and deeper into the truth of everything?

And what about sharing what I find with others who are interested? This is one of the most beautiful things that I can do. What else is there to do here, on earth?

And I wanted to make music.

And so went my thinking and I did not know what to do.

I’ve learned that when I have such a weighty question, it is best to keep it as a question and since this is after all a matter of the heart, I’ll invite the heart to answer. It always answers in its time. So every time the question came, I gave it to the heart: Here, this is the question I am looking for an answer for.

And one day, when I was in a short meditation, and the question was tickling, the answer came:

The blog.

I ‘work on myself’ all the time and the blog accompanies me as I go. I use artmaking and reading the art as my main method, so I have the art and the writing. It is already like a book. I can, at some point, collect some entries according to a subject that I’ll choose and make a book out of them. Or even more than one book. Sometimes it has illustrations too. Everything that I do from love and interest is already included in the adventure of the blog making. I have a conversation with other people too.

Everything that I did in my life was always about these same things, about development, freedom, beauty, living meaningfully. It is as if I have been doing this blog all my life.

And for income I can exchange the art that is created along the way with money that will pay for my life. It’s all very flexible. Things can be added, directions can change.

And in this way, with all these thoughts coming in very fast and quietly, everything fell into place.

When this clicked into place I felt a huge relief. I knew that everything was okay. And there was no need to change anything, as I was already there. For a while i made sure that I did only what I wanted to do. Tis opened the door for my heart to choose for me, and I was already where I wanted to be.

In my meditation when this knowing appeared, I saw an image in my imagination. I saw a few wide lines made with a dark brown soft pastel. The lines overlapped, just as the colors usually overlap in my paintings, and became one expression. This is the essence of this blog.

So I answered, for those who were interested. And now, back to life.

262. The sixth bull

The sixth Bull

The pink

Is riding the ochre

The pink is a saint

We know this by the halo

He’s also a juggler

And even if his clubs

Fall

They never reach the ground

Just like him

The drawing lines

Try to be

A judge

A piano

A horse

A boat in Venice

To make the people laugh

Going forward

He looks at us

The watchers in the air

Who know

That nothing is happening

At all

And this is why

We laugh

Like children.

259. Don’t worry, Mama

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Under the drawing lines there are only two shapes. One is yellow. One is multi colored. The drawing lines above the second, bigger shape, were used as borders among the colors. The drawing and the multi colored shape became glued to each other through this. They became one.

But from the top of the multi color shape, the drawing continued to go out into the world and play.

-Come back, drawing. Time for dinner.

-But it is so much better to play out here. Do you hear, Mama? The yellow shape shouts “Catch me!” But no, I’m not going to hold on to anything. -Shine on, yellow. Be free like me. Don’t worry Mama. We are going to have a good time, all of us. Look: I’ve already made some fruit!

-Oy vey, my child is leaving…

(This was my subconscious.)

255. Two about light and you

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The flowers grow in all kinds of shapes

The light in the flowers

Is your light

The light in all things

Is your light

Every little speck of dust

Is a door

The door is always open

Come, go through it

Come and meet us where you are.

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There is light in the white areas

There is light in the ochre

There is light in the black and grey

I am in the black of all shapes

You are in the white of all

And we do not know

We tell each other ochre stories

We laugh and we cry

We say: I am ochre, who are you?

Are you ochre too?

Don’t tell anybody that I said this

These are actually

Only words.

254. Inviting beauty to look at pain

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As you see

The areas overlap

And struggle with each other

For control of the same space

And what if they knew

That the same space

Is open and given to every one of them

With no limitations

All with love and joy and acceptance

Be they as they want to be

And the radiating hurt

Is like roots

Trying to hold on

With fingernails

To a piece of ground with no water

Or food

Bt they can change their experience

And feel blessed

In being able to dance that dance

And infinite number of others

For all eternity

With nothing to loose

Nothing to gain

Just joy.

253.About the stones

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The big stones

That were uprooted

That were torn away

From their heavy comfort

The loose stones

That everybody fears

Know already

Even as they slowly turn

And are about to fall

With a thump

The peace

That will be here next.

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The tree and the stones

Are closer to my eyes

That are in the body

My imagination

Takes flight

Disconnecting from the body

And the earth

The flight takes place in inner space

Which fills up with joy

And this is what

Creates the drawing.

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Arising from the plain

Stones and dust

Become stars

Where am I going?

Why am I tearing myself

Apart

Which is impossible

Anyway?


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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.