Archive for the 'Truth' Category



240. Look back with your eyes closed

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Try this:

Close your eyes.

Sit comfortably somewhere of course.

Find something that your senses detect.

An example: The eyelids touching each other.

Imagine that your whole world is made of transparent clay. This clay makes everything and is not seen. This clay makes everything it wants. The things it makes appear to our senses.

Your clay creates the eyelids, the nerves that sense them touching each other and your same clay is the one who sees it all, from inside of itself.

Let’s say you hear a car on the road. Your clay is making it in this moment. Your clay is making the road. Your clay makes the sound. Your clay is making your ears and all their parts, right now.

What is this clay?

Why does it make these things?

Maybe out of curiosity? Out of the love of experiencing? Out of joy?

Playing like a baby?

Is it you?

Where does this clay come from?

 

Look back, from inside the clay, with your eyes closed.

 

234. Segovia and the quiet spot

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Mooji showed up in front of me, when I was going through videos to enjoy but I moved on every time. Now I stopped and let him speak. He is like an old friend that I love deeply. So my heart opens. What will he say now?

In everything that he says and in the way he moves, I feel that-infinite-space attending, just like my own one right now. I realize that I came to like the taste of this state. It starts to be familiar.

And he says that when a troublesome event comes up and we have a shock, a fear, or we are being shockingly and fearfully agitated, the thing to do is to find the quiet spot that is always there too, and go into this, stay in this.

 

And this is what this reminds me of:

When both of Segovia’s parents died and he was left alone in his world, he was some six years old, or maybe less. He was very sad, and I am crying for this sadness now because I feel some of it. Somehow there was someone there who knew what to do. He or she put Segovia (little Andre) on the train with all his belongings and sent him to his grandfather in another city.

Grandpa took him from the station and brought him home. For Segovia this was a strange person who he did not know. Grandpa sat Segovia on a chair and sat himself on another chair facing Segovia and in his hands he had his guitar. Segovia did not play guitar yet.

Grandpa made a chord.

Segovia cried.

Grandpa made another cord.

Segovia cried more.

And so they went. Grandpa played chords and Segovia cried, until Segovia smiled.

This was his introduction to his grandpa. And this is what brought the guitar to his life. And it was also his introduction to that different love that comes with insight and cannot be broken.

You see? Whatever life brought, whatever emotional response he had, he went to this direct-no-story effect of the sounds and this became his quiet spot. Maybe at first he did not even perceive the sweetness of the chord. Eventually he fell in love with it.

 

Maybe you do not immediately feel the huge, deeply joyful, childishly curious, absolutely peaceful character of the inner peace. But with many visits it becomes inevitable that the taste will come through. And there will be a sweet love that has just awakened in your heart, that will take you there again and again and it will be your home, the only place where there is no contradiction whatsoever between you and the place. And with no contradiction, you are the place and the place is you. And so it goes for everything.

(As for the story about Segovia, I hope it is close enough to the truth. I heard it on public radio long ago. The details may have been somewhat different but the core is true.)

233. How the “I” moves to a wider view

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Being tired and in pain I became sad. Pain is a simple thing but living with it creates additional problems. Now all of them weighed on me. I thought: I can’t go on like this any more. I did not even paint yesterday and today.

My friend from Germany called. We started to talk and the phone line went dead.

I pulled a new piece of paper onto the table, dipped the brush into the water and into the first paint that my eyes saw in the watercolor box. It was olive green. This is how I choose the first color.

And then there was the drawing. No time. No pain. Brush, water, paint and the composition, the story with no words. The energy of the truth. Everything is good.

The olive green lines and the white of the paper are the best of friends. It is a holy connection. The lines, strikingly, appearing out of the white. The white does not have inside and outside. It is everywhere. It is all-there-is-everywhere. Even the word everywhere does not fit here. Is the green line real? And my eyes that see it: are they real? And my heart that has just become so full and so delighted, what about it?

(The other colors came later.)

 

Now in a different way:

Pain is part of the illusion of life, together with the body, with time, with good and bad.

The true self cannot have pain. Its essence is joy. Its essence is love and playing and being curious. The true self cannot be affected by the illusion.

For the “I” in the illusion pain is real and hard.

The good thing is that everything is connected. All I need to do is to change the way I focus and switch my identity to the true I.

Instead of focusing on the pain and automatically trying to escape it, to fight it, to prevent it, to change it, Instead of these, I find my curiosity and make the olive green lines. I find my playfulness and play with everything that shows itself. I look for the beauty in everything and find it easily. I look for my joy and it is right there. I am joyful. I look for my love and indeed what else do I have? This is how I start to identify with the true self.

And as I do this, I find that I have forgotten the pain. I don’t even feel it. Or if I do, it is not significant. I am in peace. The vibrations of the pain, the waves that streamed through the legs calm down. My hands that clutched one foot fall down, relaxed. The body rests. The energy of creation flows flawlessly everywhere it has to go. The body heals. The specific thinking processes that hold on to the body and its suffering become weaker. I am not so dependent on the body and the world around it. I witness them and I am free. In my mind I am already walking down to town, where the galleries are. I am going to see an exhibition. Right foot, left foot and I dance.

 

230. Who is the free one?

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It is on the longish side today and a bit psychological.

I started to draw when I had a very strong pain. I held on to the act of drawing as to something that saved me from sinking in a bog of pain. I did not want to loose my humanity. I also held on to drawing because I wanted to have some sort of a backbone, when everything else was breaking apart to meaningless good-for-nothing, directionless pieces.

The top left part, where I started the lines, is a possible visual interpretation of pain, sharply spreading, attacking everything in all directions.

Then I left the stage, so to speak. The first spontaneous burst of drawing calmed me down a little, and my by-now-natural-tendency to go deeper into myself, to allow for a deeper view to emerge took over.

This created, still in the ’lines’ department, a pen-like thing, thin and clumsy, self-guarding like a soldier in uniform, standing straight and holding with one hand this grand explosion, almost as if it is a flower. I did not think this thought when I drew. I just drew what came to me, basically not knowing what I was doing. Or you can say, I was trusting my inner guidance.

This soldier is supported by a complicated and inefficient scaffolding, in yellows and browns. The yellow color does not give a sense of strength to the scaffolding.

This scaffolding has another shape, in green, connected to it on one side. In that shape, there are teeth that are pointing inward, like an aggression that is directed inward.

I can almost say that it feels as if the scaffolding is trying to push this green part away, but can’t get rid of it. (The colors don’t feel good together.)

The color areas create two layers. To say it in a short way, the blue is behind everything else.

The layer of the pink, browns, yellows and reds is like an emotional echo of what the lines do. In the middle there is the aggression in all directions (in pink), and the rest are all the broken parts, including the spectacularly dramatic yellow in the upper left corner. There is drama there, no doubt.

In blue there are bridges above and under each other in what can go on forever without giving a sense of meaning, since it does not seem to matter if you go up or down. This adds to the meaninglessness.

So what did the diving-in bring up?

A big confusion, happening without any clear purpose, destructing something emotional while holding on as much as possible to the figure of the soldier, as the protagonist, who is being propped up somehow by a needlessly complicated scaffolding and showing off its anger as a flower.

Wow.

Or maybe I should say woe.

Isn’t the soldier like the ego? So fearful, so lost and confused, but pretending to be strong, accompanied by self-hatred, and displaying some dramatic fireworks while feeling so limited.

So what good is that for? What did I gain from drawing?

Seeing that this pain event creates such a sorry state requires two participants.

One is the event itself with all that happens. The second is the seer, the one who witnesses. And you have to admit that the seeing is pretty comprehensive, psychologically speaking. The pain has become a richer event, with self-hatred, with the inflexibility and fear of the ego, with all that is constructed to keep the ego in place, with the complexity of what holds the ego in place, and with displaying the drama almost as a way to decorate the ego.

First came the initial scream. The viewer at that point was the ego himself. Then, with calming down, it became possible to choose a different perspective to look from, by using a different style of consciousness. Instead of the narrow style, of one thought after another, of cause and effect along the same path, the attention started to be given to everything at once, to all the participating shapes and the way they relate to each other.

When there is a strong emotional response, one thing becomes the most important one, while everything else disappears from view. But from the wider view, the relative importance of the pain diminishes, and all the parts and their relationships can be seen at once. So you see the whole structure of the event. It does not have a purpose and it does not have a hero.

How does consciousness change?

Just by making art, in which composition is of the most importance. If you want to make something that has beauty for you, you must pay attention to the composition. When you do that, the diving into a wider (and deeper) state happens on its own. I am talking here about why art is so powerful as the initiator of wellbeing.

With this deeper view and with the associations that arise, you start to know the complete situation, or you see in a more complete way than before.

Being in this relatively deeper state is pleasant. It gives a sense of control, of knowing, of peace and of being strong and unaffected by the suffering. It surely is a better state than the one it depicts.When I came to this stage, I did not feel the pain any more.

Before, when the pain was the most important thing, getting rid of it seemed to be the prerequisite for feeling better.

Now you become interested in changing the situation, not because you do not want to feel the pain but because you want to be in a different state, the state of the viewer. It is a totally different ballgame. You don’t need to have no pain in order to be happy. Happiness is yours by changing your perspective. It is insight. It is wisdom.

It is a big and meaningful change that is right under our noses.

If you do this many times, it becomes a habit. Suffering then leads you deeper and you feel better. You teach yourself to be free.

 

 

 

 

229. The blanket of words

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It looks to me at first that I have nothing to say. Then it comes to me that the balance is important. It is like a very complicated collection of so many different shapes and colors, and it all has to be in balance.

What do I mean by balance?

I mean that when you look at it you get a sense that in spite of its complexity, there is a guiding wisdom at work in it.  Some deep knowing is involved.

The impression (For me) is that all the shapes live in peace with each other and with everything that is in the picture. Every shape belongs to some group, based on sameness of color, shape, size, or other attributes, and it  may belongs to more than one group at the same time. Yet everything works together without conflicts. All the shapes and the groups do what they do within the same space. The may even overlap and mix. But they do not block each other.

There is an exercise that I used a lot in art therapy. Two people work together on the same artwork. They work in turns. Every one of them, instead of trying to support the other, makes sure of only one thing: That he or she keeps loyal to his/her own sense of beauty. When people work in this way, they come from a deeper place within themselves and they give their best contributions to the shared artwork. It is possible to live this way too.

Every individual truth (represented by one shape in the picture) is acted out with wholeness, and no individual truth is in contradiction to another inner truth.

This is possible only because the art-making is wordless. In our life as human beings there are oppositions indeed. These oppositions are only due to the stories that we tell, which are the way we interpret what happens to us. If you take the stories away from what happens, like lifting a blanket of words from something that lives a wordless life underneath, you discover a world of harmony.

So what is more real: The world of stories, or the world of experiences with no interpretation?

And which of these do you want to be in?

There is no right answer.

 

228. Imprisoned in his own choice

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In this painting there are three major systems:

  1. The lines, which are in purple, olive green and one little line is in blue.
  2. The areas of color that appear to be behind the lines.
  3. The red areas that are inside of shapes, delineated by some of the purple lines.

Many times it is enough to describe with words what you see in a picture, to know what it is about. This indeed is one of the ways to read art.

Here:

The system of lines that has its story, appears on the background of nothing. The story may be that the lines describe something, that some of them do something to other lines, that some are purple and some are in other colors, etc. The background of nothing is the white that has no features except that there are no colors and no shapes in it.

The system of colored areas appears behind the line system. The colored shapes system has its own story. It is not being told in continuous lines or shapes. Things appear mostly unconnected. But you can feel relationships. For example, you can feel that all the greens belong to each other because of having the same color. All the shapes, because of their general outline, which is softly rounded, without sharp points or angles, all of them are of the same kind. This whole system appears in the same proximity of the lines system, and therefore the two systems seem to be related to each other, as if they are parts of the same thing. How about seeing this as a person and his emotional system. (Here I went beyond just describing what I see. I added an idea that seemed to make sense to me.)

There is one shape among the colored areas that is different. It is the blue one that looks like a river or a road. It goes from close to us to another place far away that we do not see. This may be the path of life on which we float with ease or with struggles. (again, an interpretation. It can be something else too. But something that leads the eye far away, to where you cannot see the end, these can be seen.)

Now let’s take the reds, which got caught within some of the purple lines that created closed shapes. Usually in the picture, the lines go freely to wherever they go. They describe shapes, that you have a feeling are not finally determined. These shapes still can grow, shrink or move. But these areas that caught the red inside of them seem to be more final. Their muscles are stretched and tense, holding the red and preventing it from changing. This is where the happily and freely flowing human system is becoming hard and inflexible. This goes against the nature of free flow and therefore it is the place of suffering.

And all of this appears to play in an environment of no features (the white). This is not a physical portrait in a realistic environment. It is the inner experience of life, created in awareness and experienced in awareness, done and felt in the same moment. Doing and experiencing here are not separate.

And if you see that, where do you choose to place your identification? What part do you choose to be?

Here is another way to look at it:

There are two big systems that relate to each other harmoniously. There is no event  in that. Only a continuous flow. The two systems can go on and change together, every one of them in its own related way to the other. They can go on forever. But the minute the regularity is broken by an unusual behavior that occurred in a few parts, an event is created and it starts to be interesting. That’s life.

Where was the identification, when it happened?

It was in the parts that caught the red. “I must have this red in me,” said the ‘I’ who identified with these parts. Before, there was freedom there. But now the travelling ’I’ became imprisoned in his own choice.

 

127. The energies in the body and the thoughts that move them

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The intention was to paint the inside of all the shapes in the drawing, And to come out with the colors at the top of the shapes. First let me do the way that each color comes out and up a little bit from its designated area, I said to myself. These are the tricky areas. So let me do them first. But when I finished, it looked good to me just as it was. The strong contrast between the lines inside of the big areas (where the olive green lines are, where the other green lines are, where the red lines are, where the darker red areas are and where the blue lines are) and the white, gave these areas a lot of energy, and together with the way the lines curled and bent, as if they were in the middle of doing something, there was so much life inside if the shapes. I liked it and did not want to change.

So what do I get from this?

For me it feels like the energy of life inside of my body, about to explode. No. Not to explode, but to do something big, to do something loving and beautiful.

I looked at the drawing a day later and I still liked it. So it was time to sign.

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Everything is born out of thought.

My hand is the result of a thought. This is how it started and this is how it is being created again and again every very short time, like the way a movie is being created from some thirty pictures every second, that when shown continuously, look like something that moves naturally.

The thought that creates my hand has become a habit that is activated regularly. Based on another thought, which is the story of my life, images are chosen to create motion that will fit with the story of my life. I don’t know how all of this works, with all the details. If you want to understand it from the perspective of a human being, which is what we are of course, you will have many questions. And after they will be answered there will be so much more questions. The amount of details is beyond measure. We are dealing here with infinity, using our finite mind.

Whatever happened to my feet continues to happen so many times every minute. The minutes that have passed have gone out of my reach. Some people, who have the talent to see through the big consciousness of all of us, may visit these moments and see the process happening again. I think all of us can have (less controllable) access to past events in dreams, and in inner visions, connected to memories.

The habits of thoughts that keep creating the nerve damage and the resulting pain in my feet, started some 70 years ago. Do you think I need to visit that time in order to correct my thoughts and with the change of thought, the disease activity will stop?

But you see, the thoughts and the behavior of my energy, that creates this condition, are not those of seventy years ago. They happen right now, so many times every second. So it is enough to deal with what is here now.

There is still a lot to explore. But I’ll stop here. This is enough for one entry.

 

126. The floating ‘I’

 

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Maybe we do not see the one who sees?

It has a sense of order.

It has a sense of belonging (parts belong together), of keeping harmony. It has a sense of playfulness. Cleanliness.

Clearly it speaks about front and back. But they are very close to each other. There is no depth here, except in the white that may go to eternity.

There are no dramatic contrasts.

Immediately as you pass through the noise of the lines you are in calm-land.

And being in calm-land, you are at the gate of infinity. You can touch it.

 

And it could be that we do not see the one who sees. In the drawing we have only the layer of thoughts that stands between the one who sees and the scene that is behind the lines. So there is eternity looking through the personality (the lines), at what appears in front of the personality (the areas of color). And soon after that, eternity continues.

And you have the floating ‘I’.

If the ‘I’ identifies with the personality, he does not know anything about eternity. For him the world is made of two: Himself and the world. If the ‘I’ identifies with eternity, he sees only one, himself, as he is playing with personalities and worlds.

222. Who won’t twitch their feet when they are tickled?

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Thoughts/things

Maybe it is strange, but these days nothing is more pleasant to me than sitting quietly somewhere and watching the interface with the quiet space that is always there, seeing how a few moving things in my mind calm down, feeling the body relaxing and staying there.

A person passes in the street on his bicycle and I feel this somewhere in my energy field, as if it happens there. I feel a stirring of a little, very pleasant excitement and then it goes away. I see it as if it is a thought.

The quiet space is alive. If I tune in to it, I know, thoughts like the one that is a person on a bicycle, are moving in it. There are stirrings like this in different depths. They all belong to something infinite that lives its inner life in this way, creating interest and feeling it.

I suddenly understand babies, twitching their feet when they get excited. They experience the stir in the infinite space when their wordless thoughts move. They feel as if it is a tickle. And who won’t twitch their feet when they are tickled?

 

221. The explosion

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One of us complained about a headache. It was the evening talk on a retreat. We all sat around our master. And it was way into the night. When he finished talking this friend raised his hand and complained.

Your headache is just a wandering thought, the master said.

I don’t remember what was spoken after that because this sentence hit me strongly. I would not be able to explain it, but I knew that this was true.

I also had a headache. I was exhausted from the intense concentration that I used in my meditation all through the day.

Soon after the conversation ended we meditated again. The sentence repeated itself in my head. It is true, I thought. The way my body feels is a wandering thought. And just like with every other wandering thought, I can let it go.

Then there was an explosion in my neck. The head was blown away. The throat remained torn to scraps. I saw this clearly as I was floating in the air behind myself. I was very peaceful and in wonder. There was no time.

Now I understand some of it. The pain is a result of a thought. This is clear. Everything that we experience is a result of thoughts that we believe. The experience is not always exactly as we anticipate, but it always matches our vibrational state.

My teacher and many other teachers never explained this. They prefer to leave things mysterious. Or they do not want to give us the knowledge to change our reality. They want us to transcend it.

When I started the blog I knew that the pain and the malfunctioning of the body came from thoughts. I knew that if I released the beliefs that created the malfunctioning, the fundamental belief that creates the body in its healthy state would take back the controls and the body would heal. This is the direction that I took and there is the evidence for it in the blog. But I am still with the malfunction and the pain. Many times lately I felt desperate, tired of the struggle. I wanted to give up. But I didn’t want to give up. I wanted to rest. If it would lead to the death of the body than let it be so.

My essence, the truth of who I am, cannot be harmed.

I think part of my struggle is because I do not want to lose the fight with the powers that, as I imagined, wanted to block me from developing. This struggle belongs to a non-existent figure. I can let it go now. I wrote about this kind of struggle and I can write again in another entry. The interest in finding the way to heal myself should, as I truly believe and as I teach my clients, come from curiosity, playfulness, love, peace and joy. Coming from these energies that are the natural energy of all of us, it cannot be a struggle. It can only be a joy. There should not be a difference between the true expression of who I am and healing. In other words this means that in order to heal we need to be in the energy of the truth of who we are.

So I allowed myself to enter with my boat into the river of who I am, throw the oars away and let the stream take me.

All that I wrote after the end of the healing descriptions (after #58) was about living in the downstream direction.

When the pain is great I loose sight of this sometimes and the old I appears. Maybe I can allow the pain to kill me, bend me down and break me apart? Maybe I can let the head explode and disappear. I can live without a head.


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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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