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.
He has been caught in the tree And his guts are spilling He is a kite That has gotten Many messages The tree is tearing him Apart He has lost his cord His heart is bleeding The sky has no more clouds To cry for him He will have to play With what he has He will have to build a collage. And what If he is out of Glue?
Like Soutine Never fit in Approximate Roll colors On your tongue Eat the fields Swim behind your ribs Adjust your heart To pleasant warm Know that grass Will yellow in the summer Find the blue Lie flat on your back And follow the stars.
intuitiveflow 