Archive Page 10

300. The elements of the story and the elements of the truth

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H and I spoke about the light that I saw on the wall outside of my window. I mentioned opening a window and then opening the opening in the window.

We talked about the pain. I thought about health and what my feet will do in a healthy situation.

I have been making some kind of a horizon in my paintings lately, and maybe for many years. It is like an anchor of physical reality. Things can be attached to it or they can float away, to indicate freedom from the idea of an anchor.

I have little things floating in the skies that I make, to also show some connection between heaven and earth.

I have buildings, I have trees, I have openings in the buildings’ walls.

I usually have something green.

And I have some humans or animals that are twisted and obscured, but have strong hints of human or animal poses and movements.

The earth has many times hints of rocks, cracks folds and ploughed fields.

You can find things like these in this painting and in most of my other artworks.

But the paintings are different from each other.

What are different are the lines, the composition and the colors.

So these are the real content of my works.

Give me hands, give me spiders, give me stones, and I will use them to create different compositions, with lines that feel different and of course colors that tell different experiential stories.

Many years ago I made prints that had only numbers in them. I’ve always been like this.

So it is the composition and the expressions of the lines and the colors.

Do you want to understand me?

Look me up in these.

But it will be only a relative knowing.

It is impossible to understand me.

I am infinite, just like you.

299.Three drawings

Swinging in endlessness

First started with a face. It is on the left.

I almost decided to draw a face in a way that can be recognized. I started in this way and as I went along I answered impulses from the heart and distorted the face beyond recognition.

Then I started drawing a little house. I thought about a tree and then thought that I always go for trees, so I decided to draw something else. A house came to me. I knew it was my house, where I lived with my wife and children in Israel. Then the tree had to be there, as we did have a huge pine tree next to the house.

And I remembered the swing with my first daughter in it, swaying extremely long sways.

Then there was no place for anything else, even though I entertained the idea of going on, adding more things. But the swinging child faced the open space and this was a complete cycle. There was no need for anything else.

First was the experiencing of a twisted flow, which means that the infinite emptiness flowed through preconceived ideas (the face). Then the drawing came closer to love, by touching on the home and the tree, and indeed my first daughter. And with this closeness to the heart, the swing swayed a long way and we came back to be face to face with the endlessness.

This one drawing has a whole process of healing.

Then came the exercise: Find the spot that feels the best and dive into it with a second drawing. I chose the space that my daughter faced.

This was the motivation behind the second drawing.

Expansion

The drawing shows expansion. The heart opens. The language changes from the language we usually use, like in this writing for example, into an energetic way of experiencing and communicating. You cannot satisfactorily describe this experience with any word language. But if you feel anything when you look at this drawing, it is because you too can experience things that cannot be described in one of our languages.

And what is the dot in the middle?

Maybe the feeling of being a local spot around which there is endlessness? Erase this spot and there is no time and space. And maybe the dot comes from a sense of something very far that the ‘I’ wants to reach, out of curiosity? Maybe the dot comes from the feeling that there is always more?

Then again: looking for the place in this drawing that felt the best, I chose the object at the top middle that looks somewhat like eyelashes or a line of cypresses on a far horizon.

Angels

Diving into this, I drew the group of what may look like trees that feel very good with each other, or maybe like a group of angels playing together in the sky, like babies.

Then it came to me to indicate some ground, to show that the first group was up somewhere, and as I did it, it became plants and ground and the plants look somewhat like the angels.

Now when I asked myself where is the place in this last drawing that feels the best, the answer that came to me was: The space between the ground and the angels.

So I see this space as the place that feels like home. From it emerge objects of fascination. They feel good too in another way. But once I entertain this fascination with the objects, I long again to the home space.

And maybe I should simply choose, for the best feeling place, everything. Just everything.

298. Sliding story

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They are dancing and I want to dance too. You see, it is about being together, loving and loved. Somehow this protects you from sliding into the fire.

But I am isolated. My skin is screaming. My mood rolls into itself and as a stone on the road it lets the little monsters play on its top.

This is all okay indeed. It’s just a story among the multitudes, except for the light inside, the light who does not care about a thing, and the light who cares about everything.

“They” are the brown and the ochre

“I” am the blue line with yellow inside

“Sliding”: Everything slides, the whole story. All the characters are in the same story and they all are about to fall. The light of the fire is already seen on the edges of things. It is also a part of the story.

“My mood”: the purple

“The little monsters”: Fear ideas

“The light inside”: You know what it is. It is the only thing that you cannot invent.

The truth is inside out.

297. A flying cow

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A reading of the drawing:

 

Bye…

I’m on my way folks

With a horse’s head, with a bandaged foot

Stepping off my pedestal

While trees still give away their leaves

To the barren earth

Don’t think too much, land

Allow the dark cow jump off and fly

The black and blue will disappear

In time.

Note:

I am not leaving the blog. This is just a reading of a passing mood as it presented itself in the drawing.  You can read the drawing too, in your own way, and it will be true for you. It is fun.

Here are some of my interpretations of the poem’s lines:

Horse’s head – intuition

Bandaged foot – Still hurts

Trees giving away their leaves to the barren earth – Everything continues

Barren earth – not real

Don’t think too much – An advice to the people, made of earth

Allow the dark cow jump up and fly – observe from beyond the thoughts, and the cows will fly

The black and blue will disappear – All wounds will heal.

In time – Only in time can anything heal. Where there is no time, there are no wounds.

296. A meeting

 In:Out

One is inside and he meets with the other one who is outside.

Or is he?

No.

Is it the one outside who is meeting with the one inside of himself?

But the one inside is not complete.

He is just a profile line, open in the back. The mind that is around him mingles with the mind inside of his head.

He may be able to think with the mind that is outside of him.

And that is the mind that is inside of the head of the friend he is just meeting with.

But wait a minute:

This space is not inside of his new friend’s head.

It is really outside of him.

So where is the mind of his outside friend?

The world?

The universe?

Beyond?

It seems that this is where the mind of the one who is outside, that the inside person is meeting with right now, is.

So the one inside, maybe he is only an idea? What do you say?

A thought?

And the one outside?

Maybe he is the thought of the one who is inside?

So are they both real?

As real as can be,

When you are unreal.

And maybe both are one thought, appearing as two, for the purpose of having this meeting?

Just a thought

That I wanted to share.

295. A meditation

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Night is coming to the desert

In the fading light

Animals show up

In a hurry

As if their working day

Begins

Legs and tails

Sharp little teeth

Soon it is hard to tell

If they aren’t really

Thorny bushes

Folds of earth

Or empty rivulets

Waiting for the floods

That may or may not come

This year

 

Then the stars

Open their eyes of innocence

Quietly

Pouring down on us

The essence

That we are.

 

Now:

Who

Do

You

Want

To

Listen

To

?

294. And there we are

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What happens here?

It looks there is wind, coming from the right and everything that we see is effected.

It is a strong wind. Little things are being blown away to the left.

If the wind goes on like this for a longer time, what are we going to be left with?

Maybe some branches will break?

Maybe the light green figure will run away? Or, will it stay all the way to the end, to see how everything else has disappeared?

The empty space will seem devoid of things to look at.

So the figure will eventually give up on trying to see physical things.

With nothing in its environment, the figure too will have no reality. With the impossibility of a contrast, how can anything be?

Aren’t we creatures of contrast?

We say: This is I and this is you or this is the world. But without a world, who are we?

And there is that grey shape that may look as if it is the thought of the figure. As I was painting it and as I had gotten to this point, something from inside of me stopped me. Enough said, it told me without words. Don’t add any more.

So the grey shape remained unfinished, as if there was no point any more in believing in what we thought was real.

When the figure’s last thought stopped before it became full, when the belief in thought and the reality stopped, what was left?

Try it out.

There is a power that makes everything be, and it comes from our thoughts. You feel it in your guts.

In time it also blows everything away. Then the last thought is never completed.

And there we are.

293. Colors that run away from each other

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In this painting you can see the pain. It is in the lines, it is in the intensity of the colors, it is in the way the colored areas run away from each other, concentrating in themselves, as if the whole picture is falling apart. And you also see some environment: A horizon with two trees, a part of a cloud and maybe a fruit on a limb.

The drawing is of faces overlapping, worried and separate, in spite of the closeness, pressed into the presence of each other.

The white is like the knuckles of a clenched fist.

At some point I discovered some dirt that was somehow transferred to the paper after my hand touched some food. I erased some of it but could not get rid of it completely. Erasing vigorously leaves marks too. The solution was to place the signature on the stain. It is like placing myself on some mess that I had created, to cover it up. Here is one of the things that life seems to be about sometimes.

My artist friend H observed in my art that even when I speak about torturous pain, the paintings have some cheerfulness to them. He recommended, carefully indeed and lovingly, to express the pain more freely, and maybe there will be a physical relief from it, not to mention the psychological relief. Maybe this is why there is a bit more expression of suffering in this painting than is usually expressed in my art. Or maybe it is because I came to the table at 3 or 4 at night, when the pain made me jump out of bed, and I started to draw right there.

But I can’t escape myself. Even the suffering in my life is viewed from an aware place that is basically calm, curious and loving.

I love my friend for who he is and for how what he is, is being expressed in everything he does. And I also love myself enough to allow what-makes-me-nowadays, to express itself with all the facets that it has.

Maybe it is strange to many people that there is no full expression of the suffering in my art. Instead there is what looks like a distanced or muted expression. How can one not scream about his suffering in his art and indeed tear people’s hearts when they become witnesses to it? But this would be untrue to my experience.

Yes there is some distance when I experience being more than my body. My body shakes with pain many times, but there is the bigger me, to whom this looks like a fantastic, colorful, emotions-full, drama that I had created for myself, not knowing who I am. Yes, it is not the usual life, to have one foot in the body and another in a much freer place.

 -And what if I hit you on your toes with a heavy hammer, will ask an imaginary friend?

-It will hurt.

292. Parade

Parade

So you still have those monsters… she says.

But I meant this to be a flower. It has some strange dark side to it. It’s true. It gives you a bad look.

And this, I meant it to be a branch, a tree, and a piece of the sky is caught up in it.

And this is some kind of an animal walking with its nose down to the ground.

Something with bad vibes is coming out from the water.

Why is one leg red?

And that long necked creature at the front, why is it looking back? Is it like a member of a gang, making sure he is not breaking a rule?

It does have some monstrous feel to it.

Or is it a colorful parade on the street?

Are they pretending to be bad?

Are they the audience for themselves?

And where am I in all of this?

I am the vibes that invite all this into my experience.

Look at the lines with all the sharp points aiming inward and outward.

Only the monsters are invited to the game today.

And what is the music in the background?

Is it quiet?

Will there be a scream soon?

Why is the sky so pale?

Can a scene like this exist?

It can, if you invite it. Can I invite something else?

Let’s see…

And how come it looks so peaceful and playful suddenly?

Like poor children, playing with dolls that they had made from barbed wire and junk? What do they dream about?

What do you dream about?

291. Tossing and turning

sleeplessness

I have been going through hard times with the pain, with meds that had terrible side effects, with a disappointment at the inability of medical Marijuana to help and with it own side effects too. I moved from having the pain relieved somewhat but starting to have heart problems, unpleasant changes in the digestive system, struggling with heavy sleepiness for most of the day and so on, to having the pain increased dramatically, when I quit using the meds and started the medical marijuana, still having the heaviness of not being fully awake.

Clearly there was no solution in the physical realm.

In a conversation with my inner guide, he said: You have to do everything with your heart. Let your heart guide.

Aren’t I a heart all through, I asked?

Yes, but there is still some fear, my inner guide said.

Yes.

Hence this night, desperately searching for sleep with no relief.

There is nothing to hold on to in this picture. You come to something and it moves away. The state you hope to be helped by is itself helpless. Round and round everything moves and never stops.

I went to my table. I dipped my brush in the first color that called me. I started to follow the experience of the moment, attending to the lines, the ways in which they came to each other, the way they moved, desperately searching for some calm. I wanted to be true to the experience, so I had to allow the feelings speak through the lines, and I witnessed everything, the feelings, the truth in the lines, the composition, the minute changes in the feelings, and as I was doing these, my lines started to express my new state of being: The witnessing.

Then I knew I had to stop. The decision to stop had to do with a feeling of beauty that I started to follow too. You can say that when you become a witness of your inner workings, you start being aware of beauty. And Beauty is somehow connected to love, to sharing, to playing and to being deeply happy.

And it is the time to leave this text too and move on.

Where is it that I want to move to now?

Where is it that you want to move to now?


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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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