Posts Tagged 'fog'

313. The cloud and the stream

The cloud/fog

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.

94. The swan song of the pain

Calligraphy

Calligraphy

Like calligraphy

As if it is a piece of writing

About something intense

That faded out

About pain that is now breaking apart

About new growth

That had a hard time growing

Because of the weight it carried

About an old support

That is now

Only a shadow of itself

About interactions

That seem to work as a story

How he escaped in shame

How he was wounded and lamenting

How he suddenly remembered a sad occasion

How he moved through villages in the fog

How he was like a child, discovering air

How everything kept disappearing

And only a feeling of growth and amazement

Continued

The essence of which is

Truth.


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

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