Posts Tagged 'terrible'

195. The screeching is terrible

Old clunky machine

Old clunky machine

The drawing was done at 10pm, the painting – in the morning after.

It is like a very big puppet. The head is too big and heavy in the composition. The mechanism is old. It stood outside in the rain and plants started growing on it in some places. You can almost hear the clunking of its mechanism, the screeching of its rusty metal, in friction with other rusty parts. It used to be very beautiful. Some of the paint is still there.

The face is stubborn. Even though parts of it have fallen off, it still insists on moving forward. It works without an operator. It used to be the fascination of the community. Now it only walks alone, with much effort and nobody is watching. It is hard for it to move. The screeching is terrible.

It thinks.

Thinking is the essence of its engine, the oil and the fuel.

And now I know who it is: It is my autopilot.

99.The awakening of curiosity

Twice this night I came to this table, made drawings and went in with words. The nerves are now closer to the surface and burn all the time. Sometimes I can take it and sometimes I can’t. But even when I can’t, I take, because there is nothing that can be done. The salves that I have and used to help a little don’t affect the pain more than in an insignificant way. So I almost fall asleep, because I am so tired after many nights like this, and wake up with a peak of pain that I cannot take.

In most cases I find something that I can do in a meditative way, to calm the body down at least. Then I fall asleep. But this night it was hard, as it has been for a few weeks now. Maybe it is the tiredness that makes it hard. I try to think a thought that will make me feel better and imagine something that makes me feel good, but I am very tired and start to be upset. What is going on, I want to know? So many times I thought that the end has come already, and yet the pain just increases. When will it end?

Yesterday I had a hint that I have to be patient. We have a pot with daffodils that we got as a present in Christmas. Until yesterday there was no sign of growth. There are five of them in the pot and all had a short, one inch, thick, green shoot coming out of the bulb. This did not change for almost three months. Every morning I gave them a little bit of water. Yesterday morning I watered them again. They still looked the same. I gave up on them. I saw other daffodils growing already in other places. In the afternoon I saw them again and one of them had grown that green shoot by two inches between morning and afternoon. And I thought: I can take this as a hint that I have to be patient. It seems that the breakthrough has not happened for me yet, but it will, when something will be right, as it was for that daffodil.

In both drawings, when I went in with words, the text just came as it is, without any scrambling or manipulation. I added a couple of connecting words to the first text and erased two words in the second.

The hot wind blew

The hot wind blew

Nothing.

The hot wind blew everything away

All became dust

In the air

Yes, there was an emotion there

That the wind blew

With pieces of the green of the earth

A few specks of soil

The oceans

And the melancholy moans.

 I officially declare and acknowledge

That this is what

Transpired.

Something happens in the sky

Something happens in the sky

Something beautiful

And terrible

Happens in the sky

All the words that I have

Will do nothing with this

I have no words

I am wounded

I am denied normal life

And understanding

It is beyond me

Do things fall apart

Or come together?

I do not know.

I still don’t know what is going on, but something does happen and I feel a little better after doing the process, maybe because my curiosity has been triggered.

And here, in these last words hides one of the secrets of healing. We think that in order for a healing to be, the pain or any other manifestation has to change. But the real healing is never in that change. Rather, the change is a result of the awakening of the true self. The awakening of curiosity is the healing here.


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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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