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256. What if?


All the drawings and paintings in the blog are thought forms.

They are different forms of thoughts than those that we create with language. It is a different way to know and communicate. It is the language that we need for creation.

If my art is created only from language-thoughts, it will be like repeating the old thoughts that I have in my memory. Nothing new. Boring. Not alive.

The language of creation has so much more in it. It has the composition, which is everything that appears, with all the relationships among all the parts. It has tendencies, knowing, wanting, feeling, experiences and everything else that can be done with a mind that is in deeper state than thinking with language.

If we believe that we are the body, then there are things that we see outside of the body.

But if we know that we are infinite consciousness, then everything that is in our experience is actually inside of us.

And all of it is made of us, since there is nothing else in our worlds but us. We make everything that we experience with these creative thoughts.

We make a basketball player. We make his competitor. And we make the ball that they fight each other for. We make the court and the audience. And we make our own body to look at all of this.

If I want to point at the ball, how do I do it? I just do. That is all. There is nothing to prepare. Moving my hand is like moving my thought.

It seems easier to believe that everything is made of consciousness if we think about dreams. We know that the things that we dream about do not exist outside of the dream. When we wake up, where do they go?

What if life is also like this?

Remember my meditation teacher who said to my complaining friend that his headache is nothing but a wandering thought, a few entries back?

Is that so that there is nothing at all in what we call reality, but our thoughts? And if we stop thinking, what will happen? No reality, right? Yes, it is true. There is no reality without thoughts.

So why do so many teachers say that we have to stop thinking? Don’t they want us to have our realities?

And what about ourselves? If we don’t think, do we exist? No. And we worried about ourselves so much…

And what is PTSD? Schizophrenia? ADHD? Anxiety? Boy, what have we been thinking?

We are lucky, aren’t we, that we have a subconscious that keeps thinking our bodies, our worlds, and indeed, all the things that we believe are true. So we are still here, made of our own thoughts…

255. Two about light and you


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.


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


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


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.


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.


Arising from the plain

Stones and dust

Become stars

Where am I going?

Why am I tearing myself


Which is impossible


252. Self-love


I thought these lines would be the skeleton, to which I’d add pencil lines of many details. But it looked finished and full of mystery.

If I saw a big painting like this in a museum, I’d be very enthusiastic. I’d stop, breathless, right there and take a picture, write the painter’s name, add the date..

Then I’d look him/her up in Google and probably see more samples of his/her work. Then I’d know that he/she is a favorite of mine. I’d follow him/her from that time on.

Maybe I’d meet with him/her one day and he/she would laugh, because he/she is in me always.

And I had to go to the museum and search in Google, for what has forever lived in me.

Or maybe I have lived in it?

251. This too will be


You can probably tell

From my vibes

I see the reality in my dream


And there is something interesting

About the space that opens

Maybe you can see that too

It feels alive

Maybe more alive than it usually was

It almost has a face

And you can feel it

You can almost touch it

With your finger

Will it laugh when you do?

It may laugh

And you will recognize yourself in it

Even though

It is me

And if all that will be left

After everything else had gone

Are these three little birds on a line

This too will be

An expression of love.

250.From a moon’s eye


My father lived at the top

On the right

This is after he died

I came to live on the rocks

Where you can see the lake

I sit on a bench

The evening comes like love

I let myself feel the evening

On my skin

Trees and stones look with me


With not even one thought

In them

The moon, an adventurer,

Will come soon

To fly over the Galilee

Sharp rocks and all

I wonder if the roads can melt

The sky – yawn

Me – sing in a few voices

My higher self is resting too

No matter what he does

His language does not understand

The war

The sharp

The past

The will be

Deep in peace

He folds a sweater

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My Pages

The healing process

Entries 1-58 show how I use the method of Intuition Through Art to heal myself from Peripheral Neuropathy.