Posts Tagged 'tapestry'

184. The final acceptance of everything

Beautiful despair

Beautiful despair

I am starting this project. The final acceptance of everything.

It will be like Dzogchen throutgh art.

And I start from this painting, which I did at night, around 1 am, with the experience of this strong and crazy pain that was sharper than the usual, to which I have gotten used already.

I prop the painting up against the basket with the pencils and brushes on my table and the light from above is good to it, emphasizing the texture of the canvas.

My general view is that there is the group of many colors, heavy on the upper right and after some space there is that brown branch, maybe falling away, overwhelmed by the weight of that group and even breaking down .

Then there are two penciled dry and sharp branches and something strange, also penciled on the upper left. And of course there are the shadows, the areas I painted with pencil.

What do these do to each other?

The big multi colored area seems to have a lot of sadness. All the shapes are sending fingers or hands to nowhere, searching for something they already know they won’t find. Presenting again and again the idea of I want but I know I can’t. This creates a very disquiet, nervous cloud. It is beautiful in its sadness. It becomes almost like a tapestry or a physical “thing” and it even has some shadows, to show that it is real, it is three dimensional, and you can touch it. These are thoughts becoming things. There are a few places where a few parts become messy, blending into each other uncontrollably, crying into each other.

The introduction of the penciled branches into this area introduces another distinction into the game, between more real and less real or maybe between soft and hard. The bareness of the penciled branches feels poor, hungry for love, hardened by hard life. It seems that the lower penciled branch supports the whole cloud on its back and keeps it from hitting the brown branch harder. That brown branch is losing in a way. It is falling down, broken, as if escaping the vengeance of the colorful cloud.

The only hope that this falling brown branch has is that it will find something good when it goes up along the left side of the painting, but the place it comes to is empty. There is only darkness there, a tear-drop and an empty shape.

So where is the power in this picture?

The power is in the observation, in the ability to see all of this so clearly with all of its complexity and simplicity. It is like a poem on despair.

In summary the picture says:

I’m searching. I know I’m not going to find. I am beautiful but sad. I am helped by dry and dead sticks, which are searching just like me. But they are already hardened by the experience of not finding and they do not even have hope. Some part of me is afraid of this despair. It is trying to escape, still hoping to find love and fulfillment, but we know already, looking at the picture, that there is none of these in it.

It is funny that what looks in superficial sight beautiful and maybe playful and colorful actually describes sadness and despair.

So was I desperate when I drew this?

No. I was shocked by the intensity and sharpness of the pain that made me jump out from bed and come here, to this table at night, I remember what I wanted to achieve. I wanted to disperse the confusion that I felt and the shock.

It did this to a degree. After that I slept.

The beauty was very important to me. Without feeling the beauty I would be dissatisfied and restless. What does it mean to me?

When a painting comes out beautiful (For me, as I experience it), I know I have connected to my larger aspect, the non physical part, the real, what we sometimes call “home”. Connecting with the real, all that is not real will start moving. Movement is life, is health, is hope, is everything good. This is the principle of all healing.

I have to give some background.

Everybody believes that what I have is a degenerative disease. People who have this don’t heal. They progressively (what an unfitting word) become more debilitated. Living in this environment, I totally believe that I am healing. Parts of my feet that were totally numb for maybe twenty years are hurting now. All through this healing process they kept hurting more and more. For everybody else this was a sign that things were getting worse. For me it is a sign that life is coming back to where it was blocked. I don’t know why I wanted my healing to hurt. But I know that like everything else, this too is a decision I made at some point. I spoke about this little kid a few entries ago and he may be the source of this idea.

When the pain became too hard for me to take, I looked for some medications and I thought about it as some aid to help me pass these last stages. I needed to sleep. But the medications started to have an effect on my alertness and sensitivity to the subtleties of my perceptions. This was too much for me to give up, and I let the medications go instead. My sharpness of sensitivity is back and I have to deal with the pain without the help of the meds. It will be through the acceptance of my response.

132. Not seeking any more

Joy is a dance

Joy is a dance

When the whispering pain

Is like burning

The dead leaves want to show you the way

But joy

In spite of fear

Is a dance

The flower of sadness

Is part

Of the tapestry of life

And like joy

It is busy holding hands

With truth.

Not seeking any more

For better air or light.

118. Full of curious life force

I am going through changes and for some time I felt as if I was floating in space in some way, not feeling like doing anything, because it was not clear to me why to act at all. A whole old paradigm, so to speak, became obsolete and the new paradigm is unfolding still.

I did a lot of drawings during this process and won’t be able to show them all to you. I never was able to sow all that I was doing. I try to show the important ones. Some of the work included pretty intense release of old programs from the subconscious. Thinking about what I intended to do, I found myself afraid one day and started to draw, which lead me to feel wanting to grow but escaping, then there was a big self cancellation, then an experience of shock, then anger and more anger, and eventually good feeling. This was done in twelve drawings and quick writing, in one evening and the morning that came after it.

Then there was a shorter, four pictures version of the same thing, as it repeated itself like an echo.

Then these two:

For the first, five short poems came, instead of a single long one.

Curious

Curious

As they are looking for something they forgot

They are making a tapestry

Of happy swimming.

Tickling each other pleasantly

Telling each other they cannot find their goal

They are full of curious life force.

Laughing

Sliding bodies

With open eyes.

Filling up the space

Many fish are

Swimming nowhere

To the sun they come

From the depths

Of darkness.

Looking at the drawing now I feel I did not express something about the quality of the lines in the lower part. They seem to be rotting. There is a Zen book called Swampland Flowers, which is a collection of letters written by master Ta Hui to a student, about how to practice in everyday life. The name means to hint at the idea that the lotus flower, which represents enlightenment, cannot grow in the clean fresh air of the mountains. It has to grow in the swamps of the valleys, where it is hot, humid and dirty.

I see in it all the joy that arises from all of my self-work and the peace I feel about pleasant, light hearted touching.

The next drawing is from two days later.

Touching lightly

Touching lightly

Standing one behind the other

Curious and interested in experiencing

The parts that were banned

And what a blessing it is

There are many ways of saying no

But the yes is one

And always there, inside of all of them

As it is

Forever true.

Looking at the two drawings and words you can see how things work themselves quietly in the subconscious. The constant exposure to the flow of intuition, or maybe I can call it the flow of truth, gradually dissolves everything that is not true and leaves what is true untouched, as it can never be taken away. It was a surprise for me when this happened, because I did not work on it knowingly. This too shows something about the method of intuitive flow. You just do the work, following what comes up and there is a wise order of what is being tackled, happening on its own, guided by deeper knowledge. We could not arrive at this wise order through thinking and analyzing. Life, as it turns out, is much easier than your think.

I remember working with a person who came to me to get rid of his depression. We worked on whatever showed up. Sometimes it was possible to see that it was related to the depression, and sometimes it was other things. Dealing with all that just floated up to our knowledge, one thing after another, one day there was no depression there any more. And this is for life, as all the mental software that created the depression, all that tapestry of many small issues, dissolved and was not there any more.


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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.

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