Posts Tagged 'writing'

384. A visit with August Moon

I brought my attention to the heart, which is the heart of all.

The sun started to shine from the heart. The energy of it started to grow all around me as a balloon.

I made myself comfortable inside of it. 

I counted slowly to ten and the balloon disconnected from where it was and started to fly, without my control.

I came to a big door and looked at it.

I had a key in my hand and I observed the key.

I placed the key in the key-hole and opened the door.

I went in.

Beyond the door, there was a beautiful landscape, like one of those that sometimes come to me on their own.

There was a stick on the ground and I took it in my hand.

I drew with it another door in the air. I drew a handle on the door

I thought for a moment what I wanted to find on the other side.

It was August Moon. I wanted to meet with August Moon.

I drew on the front of the door an interpretation of him. It was a little bit like the drawing that I have here next to me, on the door of the closet. Many lines in the air.

I went to my heart and brought out my feelings about him.

I put them in the drawing and spent some time looking at the energy of my lines.

I opened the door and went in.

August was all the air around me and had no end in all directions. There was nothing to see, and yet I knew that he was there.

I felt my love to him and his love to me.

A question came to me: Why am I here, in my life, in America, with Anita, with all the people that are in my life, and with all the things that I know? What is the purpose of my being here?

You are here to see how beautiful everything is, and to love everything, was the answer.

August, I said, I don’t want to be alone.

You are the most together that anybody can be, was the answer.

It was time to leave.

I turned around and walked back through the drawn doorway. 

I was in the balloon of energy. 

I counted back from ten to one and came back to my body.

I breathed and felt my body. I looked around at all the objects in my room.

I knew that I am always with August. He is inside of the undefinable me, and I am inside of undefinable him.

381. Space in all directions

I came to life
With thoughts of up and down.
I saw a lot of space above me.
I found
that I was going flat
And soon
My face was pointed down
Towards my shadow.

The light of what’s to come
Is shining-in already
Here and now
And there is always
Plenty loving space
In all directions.

The view of up and down means that I had to grow. I had to be better. There was something to grow into. There was also the view of the horizontal of course. Yes, things happen and we are moving from here to there. But up is the direction that I wanted to grow into in my youth. All the idealistic people around me wanted this too.

But there were things, parts of my story, that pulled me to the horizontal view. You have to make a living. You are alone. Your body needs sustenance. There are achievements that you will need to fulfill. Some people will help you, and others will be a danger.

And chasing after achievements, you end up, or I ended up realizing that I had limitations, and these pulled me down. I failed to go up because I had flows in my character. This is what I came to believe.

Now I am old. I am eighty. I have a heart condition. I suffer with tremendous nerve pain in my feet. I know that we do not disappear when we die. I know that we are not who we think we are. There is a change in perspective that has to take place if we want to see this. It is not seeing really. But we can be in a state in which we know it. In order to know we need to switch our attention to a different mode, which is the gateway. And here it is. You can try it out right now.

Usually we give our attention to the objects. In the case of this painting, we give our focus to what is drawn and painted. And this is indeed what my story above spoke about. But try this: Try to let go of the objects, as if they don’t mater for the moment, and allow yourself to experience the space in the painting, that is everywhere. And tune in to yourself as you do it, so that you can feel what it does to you inside. There is a subtle sense of relief. Ahh… Like that. Do you feel it? Focusing on the objects turns out to have been an effort, compared to the experience of tuning in to the the space. This is the point of all of this art and poem.

The art was done without thinking. I was just following my sense of beauty.

The poem is a reading of the art, but it responds to the sense of beauty too. And because it does it, it brings to me this content, that the space inside of my mind wants me to get.

And here lies the power of art. Of all the arts.

157. The writing he leaves behind

Walking with his dream

Walking with his dream

The little kid

Is walking an ancient path

The rocks become brittle

And turn into sand

The little hill

Loves to feel his feet on its back

The little hill and he

Are good, loving, friends

Sometimes it rains

And memories of old friend river

Turn to memories of old friend mud

But he walks on with old friend wonder

And you can read his writing

Which he leaves behind

Written on the air

When you see

A leaf falling

Or when a bird

Flying through the sky

Is gone. 

 

This came when I could not sleep at 3 or 4 from the pain.

I thought that what would come would be bitter, frustrated or something of this sort. But this came, almost as it is.  I made only a few little changes. How can it be?

How can I be tortured physically and have this come through me?

What do you think?

For the time being, my body is there and my mind is here. Soon my body will start following my mind.

And where will I be then?


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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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