Archive for the 'Physical and non physical' Category

343. I can close my eyes

In my little garden of dreams
I swim

I find the red hard to chew
But the green invites me

The yellows warm me up
The grays advise to rest

I see the screens
That tell of being open and enclosed

I see the big lines
Building lives and falling

But now 
It's up to me

I can close my eyes
To have a different thought

And where do you think I'll be
When they will open?

342. All you want to know

It is clear that this painting has in it a problem in the left lower side. Generally there is joy bursting in it. But look at that corner. Yes, it is the corner of my pain in the legs. It is what prevents me from sleeping, it is what causes me to cry sometimes and keeps me away from walking, going to museums and movies, meeting with friends etc.. and I wonder many times how to deal with it. What am I to do when I am tortured. How to respond? This blog started with the intention to heal through my work on myself, using this method with making art intuitively and then reading it. I have released tons of old sad programs from my subconscious. I saw again and again a bigger picture of our life on our different versions of earth. All these came from this work and you were the witnesses. And yesterday, while the pain has gone even stronger than ever, I painted this. The reading this time does not follow everything that showed up in the painting, but instead responds to how come there is joy there at all, when there is that torture in the corner. And it can also be a guidance, telling me to dedicate myself to doing what feels deeply good, and let the pain issue take care of itself. The poem describes the context for this understanding.
The painting process shows me where I am and the writing guides me.


All you want to know


If you ask:
What is good now?
You’ll see that
The light in the room
Is good.
The table that you use
Is good
And supportive
Your hand is very good
For writing now
The floor is wonderful
And the earth
Underneath the building
With all the life
That it holds
Is nothing but
The good of goods
And you'll see
That the existence
Of everything
Is crucial
For this moment 
to exist
For you to move
See
And do.

If you find this true
Then you now know
That everything is good
And you understand
What the love
Of the universe
Means.

You see
That you live
Inside of love
And whatever happens
To you
Cannot make you
Fall out
Of this.

And if you wonder
What is it
That you are doing here
and can you
Choose something better?
Then you are exercising
Your unique power
To be one
With this love

And you know
Everything that you
Have to know
About you,
Your life
And
What you want to do.


 

341. Beloved sons

Maybe
This time it is not
About what is better
And what is worse
But:
Do I want to play
With differences
Or
Shall I rest in truth
For which
Both the righteous
And the villain
Are beloved sons?


							

340. All the levels of my view

At any moment of my life
I carry all the levels 
Of my view.
If I let them all go
The only one that's true
Remains.

339. The tree of sad stories

In the evenings we gather
Near the tree
We sit in a circle
And listen to the stories
That the tree tell
s

Nobody talks
And we all cry
Because we love the stories
So much

And we love the way
It feels as if
Every story
Has its roots
In nothing
.

338. Goodbye Mom

There is fire in my feet

But I am dancing

And lifting my heavy heart

A bird comes out from my head

Another bird is kissing me

I see my mom resting

On a big pink cloud

I am ready to sail on the river now

To pass the pasture

And come to my new playing field

I am quiet

I am strong

I only do what feels good to me

I am free.

337. Airborne

The bird wants to fly
On her own
She slowly disconnects
From where she stands

Wanting to fly
Takes its energy
From the sun
And it is light

Hesitation
To leave the earth
Is from the fear
And it is heavy

For many years
It seemed that
She has flown
And stayed

It took a lifetime
To slowly be
More airborne
Than earthbound

One
Lifetime
Which is
No time at all.

336. The child has stopped crying

I had to carefully compose again after it looked as if I had finished it already.
There was a lot to add. It is so easy with this technique.
And I fixed it. Now it appeals to me. I made it to appeal to me.

When I think what is new about my late paintings, it is that they are more subtle. There is a sense of joy that bubbles up in them. This sense of joy was in my paintings before too. But the feeling was that it had to struggle more in order to express itself. It was beautiful that it did, and there was a sense of drama in every one of those joy expressions.

Now it feels that the joy is comfortable and playful. It does not struggle in order to be.
The dark past is still in the painting. It looks darker than in previous paintings, but it also looks old, weak, dilapidated.

I remember the technique that I developed in healing from far, when I practiced with the group Consciousness Research Institute. I would create a huge dome around myself, full of good energy. Then I’d bring the person to be healed into the dome, to be there with me.
And I would feel the discomfort of having with me in the space of the dome someone whose energy did not match with mine. (Just as the pain in this moment is such energy that does not match mine). And I would let this strange energy be a part of me without resistance. Just like having something in your pocket that you don’t necessarily feel comfortable with, but it is there. So you just get familiar with the feeling of it being there, and you go on with the business of life. Going on being, that now includes this uncomfortable feeling. You let it be until it is a part of you that does not stand out any more. It is not uncomfortable any more, but itself as it is.

Strange how difficult it is to explain this and how natural, spontaneous and simple it was to do it.

So now it starts to feel to me that I am, at last, at this very stage with my past.
I love the little boy who I was, who struggled so hard, with so much pain and fear, and I can’t but admire how courageous he was, how good hearted.
I love him dearly.
And at the same time I get less and less impressed by the traumatic influence of that time. The trauma can be seen in the art. But the joy grows as an expression of freedom. Like a beautiful bird that was caged in darkness and, as it comes out of it, grows and becomes the whole scene.

There are delicate structures that may represent the way I explained things to myself, and they are very fragile. They can fall apart easily or change into something else. And in a way they are irrelevant to the joy.
Joy is the original state. Thinking is a game, happening inside of joy and sometimes becoming too heavy and obscures the joy that it has come from.

So it is a good thing that the thinking, as it appears in the art, has become lighter and less obscuring.

Look at the dark blue and violet shapes at the bottom right. Don’t they look like old remnants of a war that has ended? Do you feel the relief of being joy that is free from those remnants, a joy that does not struggle to be?

I’d say it is still quite moderate. It is just taking stock of the fact it is here. The child has stopped crying and now is becoming interested in everything.

335. Golden tears

A garden grows
At the top of the soil
With a touch of sadness
To it

A lonely soul
Is leaving
Hoping to have it better
In another place

There is gold in the earth
And next to it
A hidden wound
A flood of sadness
And the body of a man

He is resting now
Near water and green
He is dreaming
Of a life that he could have
If he managed to go up
To the open air
Passing the blood
And the tendency of history
To pull us down
Against our will

In the open air
Our garden grows
Married
To a trauma

But we know
Don’t we
That every morsel of this scene
Is made of gold

We wipe our golden tears
With wonder.

334. I want to be a tree

I want to be a tree
But I am not sure
Which tree
I want to be
And I’m not sure
What the conditions are
In the place where I’ll stand
Is it very windy there?
Is there competition for the food?
Will the goats eat my bark?
Will the other trees be friendly
And will they understand
That I have to be
This certain way
Because of how my childhood went?

But wait
Maybe I can be a tree
From another childhood?
My mother stood very tall
Or ran wildly in the fields
My father traveled in an air balloon
My brother played
In coloring the clouds
And I knew
That everything is possible
Right from the beginning?


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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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