Driven by anger
That is also fear
And imprisoned
By the ghostly image
Of his father
The little boy
Salutes his heroes
With his hands
That have no palms.
There is a new free online magazine, Created in Spain, about vegetarianism and conscious living. They are making the first issue. I like the idea and am posting here some text from them, which includes a link to the website, in case you are interested. They also have a book club and other interesting ideas. The text is about a short video competition that they are holding now. Here is their text:
Awards Love & Light for Animals. 1rst. Edition. In a common goal, eradicating cruelty on earth, everyone can do their bit. Our campaign is a grain of sand, which we hope supports this desire common to almost the vast majority of humans. Cruelty is not only unnecessary but also avoidable. Not only among humans themselves but for the beings with whom we share the earth. Everyone can adapt it to their belief, religion or simply free spirit. In this First Edition, bravely supported by the UVE, we dedicate it to the Sanctuaries that are doing great work, often anonymous and with few or no resources, except unconditional love. Watch full article in http://www.vegamagicmagazine.com https://www.instagram.com/reel/CzOdyOlu9VtQ0CBMChUE8-LiiaFBO2JMf_ShDk0/?igshid=Y2piMGV1cjlyaW4w
I saw blue. I made the drawing. It is an interpretation, as all channeling is. The reading will be an interpretation too.
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The first result: Childhood memories It is a cloud that seems to be everywhere, but more dense, in the kind of density that clouds can create, above me. Maybe it is more like fog. I know that there is clear, beautiful sky, beyond this fog. Just three years ago I stood in my crib, looked at this beautiful sky through the open window in the living room and admired it. I did not have the fog yet.
The fog is only for me. Other kids around me do not seem to have this fog all over and above them. They seem to be fearless, compared to me. They speak freely, sing freely, play freely. Only I have this fog.
The fog makes everything that I want to do difficult. I move through viscous caution. I speak, sing, even think, through this fog that only I know about. Others do not see it, except for women. Some women have the ability to see it. I know that my mother sees, but she never says anything about it. I have to be very careful with women. As long as I am doing what they approve of, I am okay. But I can never be sure. I may do something that will anger them, and they will punish me. Women can punish. I am never safe. What will I do without my mother, if I anger her?
I don’t have words for all that I am describing to you now. I feel all of this and I can’t explain it. Even if I could, I would not dare to create words about it. I don’t even dare to look at the fog. I act as if the fog does not exist. It seems that most people do not notice.
Somewhere, in a deep and hidden place inside of me, I know that I have given up my freedom. But since I know that I cannot have it, I make myself numb, so I will not feel the despair. Despair and fear make the cloud.
Not as I usually do, I knew what I was drawing before I started. Usually, as you can see in most of the previous entries, I allow what wants to come to show up, and then I read it or relate to it in another way. This time I experienced the fog and wanted it to speak. You saw what it said.
I still have it. I have broken through it numerous times. Sometimes I broke through it many times in one day. At times I stayed above the fog, so to speak, for days, weeks, and months on end. But it is still here. Especially when I am about or already in the process of breaking through the fog in an even greater way. The mere readiness to face some new frontier is enough to provoke the fog, even if it was dormant for a while. So I am having this conversation with my infinite being, through the drawing and the reading.
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Now, even as the blue lines wanted to tell that story from my childhood, there are many other ideas that showed up in the drawing, and I am going to write about them now.
Here is what can be noticed in the drawing. There is a stream with waves and there are some less flowing shapes above and below the stream that join the stream. Also, the stream starts from the left, where it is less flowing. It starts from a place that almost does not move.The lines there are heavier and clumsier. If you follow the flow from the bottom, there is only one line that goes from the bottom into where, after some hesitation, the flowing starts. There are two more lines that come into the picture from the bottom. They come together and just point up but do not join the movement.
What if the stream is transparent? What if it is a strong stream of unseen substance, that, when it moves through physical things, it draws them into the flow. Do they want to move? Probably not. They want to continue being the physical things that they are. But the stream wins. It pulls the physical things into itself, and now we can see the movement because it seems that the physical things are what the stream is made of.
The physical things can also be thoughts that have become persistent. They too do not want to change. But the stream takes them on its trip and they gradually dissolve into its better feeling.
And there are two separate shapes above the stream that fly independently up there. They seem to have a smooth flight. Why are they looking back?
I am going to jump to the words that come to me now. It is like a description of a whole life. Its essence is an unseen stream that seems to attract to itself some reluctant physical things or habitual thoughts, and they end up moving along with the stream, as it goes all the way out of the picture. There is no doubt in this drawing that the stream continues, after it comes out of the frame. Still within the picture, its flow becomes more flowing. Maybe it is moving faster and easier in the right side of the picture, as it has less things to carry; or the things that it carries get more streamlined.
Did I mean to draw all these things? No. I thought about the cloud but did not know how I will draw it. I just felt that a line wanted to be here and another one there, and I agreed to draw them accordingly. Why? Because it felt good to do so.
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This good feeling is the sign, for me, that I am drawing what my deeper part wants to tell me, based on my state of mind. The good feeling is from the energy of my deeper part. My state of mind was that I wanted to be free of the fog. The first thing that came was the painful story of the habit of thought that a childhood trauma has created. (This is just a way of saying, but the truth is that I have created everything.) The second is the bigger picture, not as it is seen through the eyes but as it is felt as the energetic reality. From this, deeper view, the drawing tells me that I am getting freer from the fog. The way I am getting freer is that, because of experiencing the bigger picture; meaning being aware, the weight of the stories of life becomes lighter. If in the beginning of this life the stories were heavy and clumsy, now they let themselves be carried along with the unseen current. They cannot stop the flow because I chose to go with it.
What is the flow? It is who I really am. A part of the infinite flow of everything.
And what are the two birds above the waves? They are me too, on another level. It is the level of being able to see the bigger picture. People call it awareness. In the past, the bird still looked backward, based on the understanding that the past was important for the present. Later, the bird still looks back, but less. This is the development.
The stream is free of the stories. I know this. All the stories end up melting into it. What will happen to the stories of the past? What will happen to the bird?
Well, it is not the stories that melt. It is how I relate to them that is losing ground. They will stay. My brother will still have his eighty years birthday in a few days. My children will still be in their middle age years, and they too will make choices every day, about joining the stream of who they are or resisting a little bit more. My relation to all the stories will come only from my true essence, from my steam that flows forever.
Many times I told the story to amazed friends: When you are born in Israel, the manliest man from your family hangs an army helmet 6 feet above the ground in your room, and you have to grow into it.
Of course it is not true.
But in a symbolic way it is true. You are expected to be brave, to become a soldier, to be tough on the outside and soft inside. You won’t show fear or too much sorrow when you face the war and its results, and somehow you will manage to keep a beautiful sensitivity that is very hard to detect, but your wife and good friends will know that it is there. In the right moments it will show up. Every person who was born in Israel is, in a way that enforces this image, called a “Tzabar,” which means a cactus fruit. There are thorns on the outside and it is very sweet inside.
And on May 22nd this man appeared in my art. This is the portrait of the man I almost became.
The man I almost became
This is what I wrote:
Bearded, unshaved, quick to anger. A lot of bitterness born out of tough life. Always suspicious and expecting trouble. Very close to nature, to open sky, to the earth and to the plants. Hard working, used to sweat and to having sore muscles. Will read poetry again after all the fights are settled, which means that he will never read poetry again. He will quote from memory one poem that he will remember before his death.
Come to the funeral.
You can also see a human being who is awake and buried in piles of debris. You can see his sensitivity showing from under the piles. He has a rich variety of responses to all experiences. It is this sensitivity and the many protective responses that created the debris. Now he is planted in a piece of land and protecting every inch of it. The horses go to work every morning, the sweat is pouring. Once a year he cries. In the rest of the days he only changes colors.
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I know I have never been this man. But the command to be one was kept somewhere in my subconscious. I escaped the helmet just before I hit it (and remained a little short as a result). Now I am okay with the image’s departure.
Sometime during the night and early in the morning I painted the pain. Here it is.
Pain
Then, in the morning, I heard a program on the radio in which a social psychologist (Ellen Langer) talked about her finding that it is our beliefs that determine the outcome that we experience. For example, if I do some physical work and believe that my work is actually exercise, and of course if I believe that exercise helps me loose weight, then just by doing my work I’ll loose weight. The weight is lost not by the work but by my belief. This indeed is also what I believe and this is the basis for all my work on the pain. (Remember the “About” page?)
I was not satisfied, leaving things as they turned out in the pain drawing, because every time I looked at it I remembered the experience of the pain.
I decided to do another drawing and the idea came to me to ask intuition directly: What is the belief that stands behind and drives the creation of the pain?
I have done this kind of asking many times before. You ask your question and just do an intuitive-flow drawing, in which the thinking process does not participate, and the answer comes through the art.
Here is the painted answer.
The teeth that never bite
The zigzag lines in light and dark blue and in reddish purple look like wild animal teeth that come to bite the little pencil scribble in the upper middle. They look angry and threatening. In the beginning there was no pencil scribble there at all. It was just a small, empty space. I added the scribble in the very end of this drawing. I call it the dust ball. I think the drawing could work without it too, but it is there now.
Every set of teeth has some cloud or layered clouds behind it. The clouds are where the anger is stored and from where it comes to the teeth. And of course the anger is against this little dust ball. Or maybe it is against nothing at all?
Such a big anger against such a small and insignificant thing does not make sense. And why don’t the teeth come all the way in and eliminate this little dust ball? They can. But the fact that they do not do it shows that they consider the dust ball to be much stronger than the way it looks. If it provokes such a big anger, it must have a lot of power. Does it make sense to you?
The clouds and the teeth believe that this little dust ball has done something that is enraging and it deserves to be punished. But they stop short and don’t even touch it. The little dot feels all that anger turned directly at him and he turns into a dust ball, ashamed and guilty. That’s why I called him a dust ball. He agrees with them.
And this is how things are for years and years, for ages and ages. How come?
To help us there are a few more details in the artwork. There is some open space where there is no anger. The dust ball cannot go there because there are a few zigzag lines in the way. But this area is quiet. There is no struggle there. And there is a figure there. This figure was the one before the last element that I placed in the drawing. I felt there was someone there, watching and being unaffected. It feels like someone with a childlike curiosity and playfulness. This figure is a result of having developed identification with awareness. There is always, in all situations, a knowing that all that happens is being witnessed with clarity. This clarity is the real me.
So what does the witness see and understand?
The conflicted situation in which there is a dust ball that provokes so much anger, that he feels afraid and ashamed, while the endangering teeth never bite, this is the formula of the game that I am playing this life, or at least a part of my game. It has to stay like this, if I want the game to continue. If the teeth bite, the game will end. If the dust ball blows up the teeth and the clouds, the game will end too. So to keep the game going, they keep this dance. Of course, the dust ball is me. The angry teeth and clouds are me too. It is all an invention of a conflict. It is a choice that creates experiences. The figure in the open space knows this.
But there is another way. I can change the rules. I can smile at the teeth, for example. What will happen then? See how you feel when you read this, and you will know what will happen. It will be a different game, won’t it?
intuitiveflow 