Posts Tagged 'face'

320. One little cloud over the mountaintop

In the beginning there was a face
With jugged lines
As if hacked
From a Redwood tree

Then the forehead
From which the stories came
cleared up
And you could see the endless sky

And you could see the forest
As it hugged the flowing waters
Carving their path in the earth
From ice to sea

Then a woman of light
With a cane
Stood up to tell her pain
To the hollow pine of history

And as her light ascended in the air
One little cloud
Came to rest
On the mountaintop.

——————————————————————————————————————–

I saw myself for what I am and therefore the woman was seen for what she is.
She is my mother, and this seeing releases her from the character that she played in our dream life. I can laugh now. History is indeed empty.

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.

251. This too will be

p1000395

You can probably tell

From my vibes

I see the reality in my dream

Collapsing

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.

182. Father came to visit in a dream

For some time, faces wanted to come into my abstract drawings. It took me some time to let them in. They were persistent.

Someone appears

Someone appears

An eye and a nose

An eye and a nose

Almost a face

Almost a face

A face

A face

Late at night, which is already the next day’s morning, on 4/2/14 I came to my table to write:

I see now and admire the child, the little child, furious and angry, and taking upon himself to punish himself forever for his belief that he killed his father. He came to my drawings too.

 

The furious child

The furious child

I love him so much and admire him for his undertaking. If I had to choose the child that I could be, this is the one I would choose.

But he is punishing me now.

And even now, when I am almost 70, I am not sure yet: Have I killed my father?

I feel the child’s presence in me or in the same space that I occupy, being some form of energy like me. I am him and he is me.

How do I solve this?

My father came to me this night in a dream, very close. I felt his unshaved beard on my cheek, maybe as I did experience in my childhood. He came to show me that he loves me.  I know he does not carry anger from that time. I met him before.

I wake up and come to my studio to write.

Father, did I kill you as a child? Did you die because I thought that I wanted you to die?

No kid. I died because I had it in my own mind that I would die. You cannot kill anybody really. Every one of us determines his own life experiences.

But I wanted you to die so that I’d have Mom for myself. And indeed you died. So from my perspective I killed you.

You are not real, Giora. “You” is an illusion. All the stories that you create are illusions. No one can ever die in truth, because he does not really exist. So it is like a movie, where one actor shoots another actor and nothing happens except for the illusion that it did.

Do I have to be angry at myself? Do I have to punish myself?

No. You are god playing. And what a story you have created! Your pain is an illusion too. In truth, nothing can ever happen to you. So you had created this horrific story. Now you know it is not real. And you know that you are pure love, still playing in this illusion of life on earth. You can choose differently. You can choose to live happily and healthily. You can change the whole story from its beginning to its end. It is like one of your children’s books. You are in control. Change the story. Make it so that your father lived for many years after the war. Make it so that you have lived with a father who loved you every day. Make it so that you are still loving and laughing together about all the stories that you participated in together. It is my deeper aspect who is talking now.

Look at the whole universe that you have created and keep creating all the time. You can change a little detail in this huge thing. You can understand that it was just a choice of the plot line.

But if it is only a story and not real, why would I want to change it?

For the same reason that you keep changing your story all the time. To make it feel better. To experience other experiences in this illusion game. Don’t you want to see how it is to live without that guilt, without withholding love?

It is up to you of course. But we (My deeper aspect talks as “we” sometimes) want you to feel better, so that you will create better places and lives. Your character does not need to suffer at all.

This child that you were in your story was indeed admirable. You can love him still. And you can give him a better life. Let him learn how to be healthy, how to live without guilt and self-punishment. Let him soar.

166. Reasons

 

A face is not a face

A face is not a face

A face is not a face

But an infinite number

Of living and changing

Particles of thought

The whole history of mankind

Goes into every one face

And can still be felt

And appreciated

If you look for it

You’ll find that the face

Has never had

Good reasons to be

The way it is

Or bad reasons

Just reasons

All innocent and lost.


Awards

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 370 other subscribers

My Pages

The healing process

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

Archives