Posts Tagged 'birds'

327. Birds and I

Birds can fly
They are not afraid of heights
A bough
Is a home for them
Sometimes they would fight
for a good one
Then they’d sleep
Almost standing
Birds start to sing
Even before the sun arrives
Birds are soft
And hard

And I
What is hard and what is soft
In me?
What am I afraid of?
What will my dreams be like
If I have to keep my balance
At night?
Will I sing
In the morning?

When I was very young, there were geckos on the screens of the windows in my room, hunting flies and moths. And beyond the screen birds were standing on the windowsills. Then they would fly to the trees that surrounded the house.
In the evenings many birds would fight for the good boughs, making a huge noise. Then they’d settle down and sleep, sitting on their folded legs that held on to the thin branches. They did not have homework to do. I loved their boldness as they peeked into my room, with the excitement of having just flown still alive in them.
Today, when I close my eyes and imagine what a good life is for me, I see myself flying above the landscape, almost like the birds, but I flap less with my hands. I just have to think forward and I fly. And when I settle on a bough, at the top of the tallest tree, I do not shout. There is nothing to fight for. The world comes to me.

316. Birds in the blue sky

I thought just now of calling it: birds falling from the sky.

As in many times before, many shapes that I drew, not knowing what I was doing, ended up looking like strange animals. I did not think of any birds and no people were planned.
But now there is a man in the left lower corner, doing something and maybe using a second head to look at the biggest falling bird. Maybe it is falling right on him?
On the right there is a bra hanging from a tree branch.
It seems there is some ground at the bottom. It is not drawn. But several things stand on it. This is why, for me, it feels that an earth must be there.
At the top there is a big bird feeding a young, smaller bird, while in flight, as airplanes sometimes do. maybe there is a cat down on the earth, with some unknown creature standing on its back.
So what is behind what I draw here?
I somewhat like this drawing. I did not add paint to it, to preserve it as it is, in the most alive state, before the power of the colors reduces its strength. Being raw, you can feel the fascination with the shimmering of everything. This is how I see things nowadays.
It is not a perfect drawing. The hanging bra and one little bird, alone in the air, at the top left, break the diagonal flow of everything else. The little bird moves at least. But the bra is defying every tendency in the drawing, by hanging vertically, as if nothing is happening around it.

This is not a happy drawing, though the deep curiosity is here, and curiosity is a happy state. So it is a mixed mood.

I love birds, I love rocks (there are two at the lower right corner), I love cats, I love people, I love the sky. There is nothing in the drawing that I do not love.
Maybe the issue of the drawing is the inconsistencies?
Maybe it is the big event of the central big bird falling and the chaos that it creates?
Of course there are always details in life that continue their natural way of behaving, as if nothing happened, as in all cases when some disaster occurs.

This is it! I have caught the essence of the drawing for me.
How do I know?
When I wrote this it felt right.
Disaster happened.
and nature goes on as if everything is okay.
The sky continues to be wonderful.
Painfully, the recognition is being forced on you: the big disastrous event is only in your eyes. Big as it is, it comes and goes without leaving a mark in infinity.
There is joy everywhere.
The universe with no borders is flowing gracefully and lovingly forever.
Everything happens and nothing happens.

It is like all the little waves that you bump into when swimming in the lake. How many of them will you remember when you are already out of the water, lying on your back on a big towel and watching birds in the blue sky?

186. Two paintings

I did so many paintings from the time I wrote about one. I’ll do a summary of two, as I look at them now.

Here is a painting that I called: Birds and Water.

Birds and water

Birds and water

It was done in a daydreaming state, imagining a place I’d like to experience. There are parts of birds in light brown, some green lines and areas, and what looks like a little waterfall and part of a river. The colored areas served, for me, to indicate different colors of the birds in this forest. The whole painting did itself and I was watching as it happened and had my thoughts like the thoughts of a watcher.

This morning, after having my regular call with my friend, I thought: I have a whole day ahead of me without sessions and without calls, And I feel quite good, after having slept a little more than the usual these days. What shall I do with this day?

And now the pain has come and grabbed my left foot quite strongly. It is hard to use both hands now, as the left hand wants to go down to hold the left foot and help alleviate the pain a little. Also, how can you even think? Some crazy creature is tearing at your clothes, pulling your attention, wanting you to do something about its experience of being tortured. This dream of being in a place of birds and water has nothing to do with this. The joy of delicately playing with the stuff of my life through the use of words, feeling the subtle trickle of their energy through my being, all of this is called to run for a shelter now. The bombs are coming down. The siren goes up and down in your head already. I asked what to do with my time today? This is going to take care of it.

Another painting, done in the middle of the night, got this name from me: Night in the Middle of the City. I was very patient when I did this.

The lake of the night

The lake of the night

It looks like a dream place too. A city that is so thin that if you only scratch a little, a hole is bored in the fabric of what seems to be so solid, and the sky, the deep and beautiful sky, is right there. We float in it, creating our cities and lives. We can create them as what we would love to live in.

The phone rings. It is from someone in Washington. Are you Gloria Carmen? Almost, I say. We are going to connect you to Charles Schumer’s office and we want you to tell them that you oppose the big oil companies as they try to rip the system off. OK, I say, connect me. I have something here that rips my system too. Schumer can’t help me with this, I’m sure. There is nobody to enlist since I am in charge. This is the world that I create for my experiences. I made some choices that do not work for me now and I can change them. Maybe I can change the oil companies too. Don’t they want to live where the birds and the water are? Don’t they see how thin is the reality that they fight about?


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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.