Posts Tagged 'man'

312. A man on a chair

The stage workers bring a heavy black chair onto the stage. The chair has stout heavy legs. The workers place it facing sideways. Then they leave the stage.

A man now comes to the stage and he is dressed in black. He turns to the audience and boughs. You can feel that he is preoccupied with something, as if not all of his attention is to the show, as so many people that we know are. Maybe we too are like that. Something bothers us even as we perform the movements that our society expects us to perform.

But this person is well exercised in doing all the necessary things and we, in the audience, get the feeling that he knows what he is doing and we don’t have to worry about the performance we are about to watch.

The hall is dark indeed. We do not look at ourselves. We are focused on the stage and our hearts just pump a little bit stronger than when we are at rest.

The person on the stage sits in the chair, facing sideways, as the chair is. He looks at us, to connect and to draw the attention he needs. We can feel it. He needs our energy in order to perform his miracles. Nobody says anything and there is not even any pantomime that suggests it, but we, in an unnoticeable way, become committed to giving this unknown man in black clothes all the energy that he needs.

To our amazement, while the man is still looking at us and we feel his preoccupation with something that we do not know, the legs of the chair start to become shorter, but the seat remains in exactly the same place in the space of the stage. It does not sink down. Indeed it floats in the air.

The person’s feet still touch the floor. If he was made of steel and if his soles were screwed to the wooden floor of the stage, this would be somehow physically possible, with a lot of stress. But this man just walked. His legs are not made of iron. How can he do this? What is going on here?

The man on the stage acknowledges our wonder. In fact he seems to be just as quizzical about this as we are. He slightly boughs with his head to us, but our attention is attracted now to something else that is happening.

Somehow, in a way that I cannot explain, another, slightly smaller man is coming out of the first man’s body.

At first it looks like a shadow. But the shadow immediately becomes a real sleek person, who climbs on the first man’s shoulders and sits there. This person is more extravagant. He smiles at us, tilts his head slightly forward to thank us and he waves his hands, as if he is conducting the applause.

We are still holding our breath, fearing that the two men on the stage might fall backward. How can this all be?

And before we even start slowing the clapping of our hands, another, smaller person comes out of the second one and sits on that one’s shoulders. The clapping goes wild. We do care about these wonderful people, who can do such miraculous things, and we want to be very careful not to excite them too much. But we can’t stop our gratitude from coming.

The last one is a child. Maybe he is a smallish teenager. He takes his cape off and waves it for us, as if to show that this is an easy thing to do.

The child is shaking his body up and down to imitate riding on a horse.

Then he folds himself back into the second man, and the second man disappears into the first man, who still looks at us, collecting our energies.

Only the first person is on the stage now, sitting in the chair that does not touch the floor. Some clapping still lingers. There is an expectation that the lights in he hall will come on and the show will end.

The stage workers appear on the side of the stage.

The chair, independently, starts to move from under the man to go towards the stage workers, as if they are its parents who came to take him back home. But the man’s legs prevent the chair from going to its parents. The chair tries again, pushing harder against the legs, and this time the man in black notices. He apologizes and lifts his legs from the floor. The chair runs to the stage workers who hug it and walk away.

We move our attention back to the man who, yes, there is no way to deny it, is still in mid air. Who knows how he can be floating there in the tense silence, still looking at us with the expression of not being sure that he did not forget something.

Then there is a puff sound, like that of a balloon exploding far away, and the man disappears.

Note:

You may wonder about the significance or insignificance of this show. It had a profound effect on me.

Walking home, moving from light to light in the night, I was not sure where my footsteps rested on the pavement. I still remembered the comfortable chair I was sitting on just a few minutes before, but the chair was not under me. Somehow my mind mixed the chair that I was sitting on with the chair of the show. And when the chair in the show became a child and ran to his loving parents, I felt that my own childhood was leaving me and all of its traumas became resolved. I felt as if I gave up the need to rely on my childhood’s experiences in order to explain my life. And I knew I did not need that part of my life-story any more. More than that, I did not need my whole life story. Instead, I settled into the flow of moving from light to light in the night, trusting the never-ending emergence of playfulness.

196. The Family

The Family

The Family

I called it “The Family.”

This is what I thought when I made it. I started with the figure in black, which is the man. Then the child in brown, leaning at the man and I felt then that I wanted to add the woman in pink. The man is frightening. He wears a gown, like a king or a lord. He is very proud and intense and angry.

The woman seems to be powerless, supposed to support the man but to always be too weak to stand in his way, if this becomes necessary. But she has independence in the area of softness and subtleties. This, actually, gives her true power. Not the power to fight but the power to be happy, if she chooses.

The boy admires his father, wants his support and protection. Maybe wants to be like the father, but he is soft too, like the mother. He makes an intense face like the father, but in his stomach he is soft. His points of power are in his connections to nature, where there is a potential for growth and unexpected strength. He may become free of both his parents with their tendencies. But at this moment that the drawing describes, he does not know yet what he can do, and he takes on the roles that his family and society expect him to take. But the knowing that is already in him, already gives him power that he is not aware of. A small spur of growth would shake the balance in the family, but his growth is not of the kind that competes. It is the kind that is kind and loving, and that says yes to all. Yes, be that. Yes be this. Yes, as your free will gives you the opportunity to be.

Yes..

Is there a dance in this? Yes, the dance of subtle potentialities, already communicating with each other, already allowing each other to be as they want. Already seeing the big and deep picture in which everything is alright and even perfect. Living the pretend life that the autopilots dictate, but unable to stop the flow of uniqueness.

All is good, in the midst of conflicts and obscuration. Clarity steps silently forward to be itself. You don’t have to wait and see. It is already in its best.

A note: I do not agree with the roles that society assigns the genders. If every one fulfills their true potential, they are happy, regardless of gender roles. This drawing describes the gender roles as society sees them, but also the clarity that invites what is unique and true, to come in and be lived.

164. The man is a chair

The man is on fire

The man is on fire

The man is a chair

He is bent as if he is sitting

And as if he is playing the mandolin

Or is he a sound?

The fire starts cold

And then

Maybe he is dancing

His head is only lightly attached

And without his head

He is turning into light

Who is this man?

 

The two last ones are such a good description of where I am nowadays.

I am sitting a lot, as I cannot walk, stand, or lie down without excruciating pain. So I sit a lot.

I am playing music.

I am dancing in my heart.

I am on fire.

Yes.

Blockages come and I blow them away. And if I don’t, something comes along and does it for me. Thank you these things that come along.


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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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