AWAKE (a portion of the watercolor on canvas I did this morning)
Each morning, I have a strong desire to paint and to write. Each morning, I wake up thinking I won’t have the desire today! This day I will be ‘normal.’
Alas… here is my newest painting.
Each day and night, I find solace in reading spiritual texts. I sink my spirit into numerous readings. I steer clear of dogma, rigidness, and structure. Rules and regulations in regards to spirit, and all things stemmed for the benefit of an establishment or a singular one, make me uncomfortable in all parts of my being.
I am a bit out of control of this ‘self.’ This burning fire-like passion builds and builds and builds, until I feel I might explode. I am pushed by some unknown force to create and expel part of what continually penetrates and feeds me–though the fuel feels less nourishment than banquet of grace-filled meals. At moments I sense I could devour my own self. In many ways I feel lost and alone; yet at the exact time entirely connected to source and the universe.
I guess I ought to be elated. At moments I suppose I am. Actually I feel more akin to a newborn bird, my feathers wet and my appetite unending. And though I have never felt such grace, awareness, understanding, and unconditional love, I have also never felt such penetrating sorrow for others and the want to make the world a place of open eyes and open heart.
I cry more. But I laugh much, much more. And my child-heart smile is back.
I am genuinely at peace at a deep level. My mind is extremely quiet now. I don’t often think about the coming hour or the coming day.
Physical pain seems to be my primary obstacle. But I see all obstacles as lessons and teachers. Even to classify with words such as good or bad seems non-essential and inadequate.
I battle with a sense of melancholy, often triggered by my physical challenges and the sensation that I am somehow no longer whom I used to be. I still struggle at times with inadequacy, often when I am focused on my physical appearance. If I am in deep connection with the spirit beyond ‘self,’ all my own suffering is released and I have only the purest and sweetest of thoughts.
I am a constant observer of self, watching my life as a director watches a theater production. Only I am silent, collecting thoughts and releasing, without knowing the origin, meaning, or cause.
Judgment is for the most part gone, except when I get down on my physical being. Most, if not all, of my emotional angst, beyond suffering with wanting to help others, is stemmed directly to the moments I see myself as separate in human form and not part of the Collective All.