Belly of a Star

my practice of compassion


3 Comments

Asleep

asleep

Asleep

In the darkest hours

The world moves

As master puppeteer

And puppet

Both

Disappointed in the performance

The drill and the hole

The very duplicate of the invented peg

Shriveled slugs

Shells

Inhabited by falsehoods

Illusion that claims fact

Trapped in the twined ball

Eyes closed

A fiber in twisted imaginings

A race to nowhere

Like the wheel set free

Down the endless hill

A contest

Warped

Within a magician’s spell

Cast out

When each is born blue

A prized ribbon

Left to unravel and bleed

In the reign games

A veil aching for recognition

Bleakness

Shaking

From this place

Phantom ink scribbles

Truths

With vulture-tinted egos

Thousands born apart

Behind the layers

Where tears

Awake

Through the labor

Of birth

Asleep

Advertisements


2 Comments

Capsized

love3

“Love”

Capsized

Luff to the wind

Your sails

My cloth

Curved as wings

We gather

Moved

Descended

Propelled

Riding the feverish waters

I am

The calm

Turned sultry thick

Canvased skin

Dimpled white

Folds of flowing ghosts

Calling

With strong voice familiar

Captured in enduring flight

Starboard forgotten

Sunset entered

Through the ache of voyage

Capsizing the maiden

Nape upon nape

In the storm of you

love4

love1


2 Comments

Love Moves

thank you

“Thank You”

Love moves

And she comes

In gentle ways of shadow’s delight

How she runs, the wild woman on the wall

How she shines, though eternal night

Tickle me she giggles in blissful merriment

Dance  in this spinning of time

Kiss me in the pink of summer

Bury me in the blanket of snow

Find me in the valley

Chase me through the canyons

Capture me in your holy delight

She sings

And I come running

To find her once more

To fancy her ways

To laugh at her glorious lust

Her undeniable longing

Her echoes of opened-vaulted freedom

How she flutters

Pure butterfly

Unafraid

Unhindered

Naked in the day hours

Scattered in gold dust with the moon’s blessing

Her grace

Her wisdom

Her eternal brightness

Take my hand

She teases with her starlit eyes

Take my heart

Take my All

Come enter the womb of pleasure

Come sit in the chamber of silence

Come gasp in the ear of lover

Undo your self

Undress your frailties

Your questions

Your fears

I am here

I am here

I am here

My sweet adoration

Come in your innocent ways

And feel the fresh waters

Bathe in the release

Tender your mercy

Kind your embrace

Break me

This shadow I am

Fissure my shell

Bust open to yoke

And devour all that is

 


5 Comments

Angel Heart

unconditonal love 2

I had been ‘told’ months ago that when I created art, energy would come through. That my art, essentially, was a doorway. The same was ‘told’ to me about my words years ago.

Here is an example from my other space of creation:

The Wounded Healer

The Core of Fear

When I connect to create, I believe I am connecting to the heart-mind of compassion. I believe in the collective unconscious and the river that carries endless channels of geometric unions. There is not intention when I create, except to connect, and even that intention can block me from being.

I am at most peace when I am joined in union with source. I seek comfort in aspects of spiritual wisdom that conveys the unity of all and the release of all suffering. I am at peace when focused on serving and loving the All. I am most out of sorts when I focus on a select one, whether that be an individual of my projected affection of my own self.

This focus on self or another singular of choice feels as an addiction; I way to escape the reality that is not. To avoid the recognition that I am truly alone in my oneness. To avoid the present reality that I am only united in the truth of All. I struggle to surpass my individual nature and travel the road of courageous unhindered and unbridled universal love. A part, an old history of cyclic lives I am, longs to return to what he/she thought once was the truth, the power of love of objects, including people made into possession.

I often, in my ‘weakest’ moments, long to connect to a one that is of flesh who can fill me with the potential promise of connection and escape. I have sought this since a young child: the eyes of a human one to take me in and harbor me safely there. I know to a great degree that the essential one is already this that I be; and following, in so recognizing I am of not, I understand the essential healing is found within the beyond viewing of the observer. In the stepping out of self and maintaining the eyes of constant viewer whilst alleviating the suffering woes of judgment and wanting something outside the moment.

What leaves me trembling is the way I now walk in the world; unable entirely to find joy in the simplicity of objects and collections, in the planning of excursions and accomplishments, in the coming of gatherers and givers; and wonder beyond creation through what earthly source shall I seek comfort.

Nothing of me is left that was; yet, everything that is remains. I am certainly a lost voyager, still rediscovering the pathways to self , merely to move beyond self and enter the outer ways of not being. Still the corridors can be dark and uninviting, the longing to connect moving as drafty air and circulating through the space I am.

In my saddest moments, I am curled, very much a child, into myself, on the floor of a small room, screaming through agonizing tears, washing out all the ways in which my humanness predicates my disconnection; though ironically, my human form is what I return to in finding connection.

The contradictions are unworldly. The thoughts plummeting through me, carrying beyond self over and over, and across the years that must have been the blink of my last consciousness. I am somewhat divided and opened, and then shut again. Re-circling and dying through the daylight and into the night.

When I am at most peace I beg to be re-carved and set deeper into the knowledge, so I might find my own peace in the process of relieving the suffering of All. There is no other purpose for me now. And the human flesh dislikes this deeply, the one who is noticed and signified by ego’s mask.

I am a duality. Just as the male and female aspects of self reawaken, the whole of me sleeps. And as the whole of me awakens, the dual spirit of naught resurfaces. There is a battle without a feud. A coming of day into night and night into day, when added up and viewed over a lifetime would seem natural, even irrelevant. Though, here, in this spinning cycle, the transitions and transferring, the switching and forging, the surrendering and forgiving, repeat over and over before the hands on the clock have time to move. I know not what to do, yet know enough that to know not is enough.

I am enough in my being, even as I see no being. And so I find this gentle solitude in creation, in which I release all expectations, beyond being guided and having something to substantiate my experience. I ask that the truth of me come through. That the universal all slip through my fingers onto the screen or awaiting canvas. I know not how I do this or why, only that I am called over and over. Only that to live the life I was is to die again, and to live the life I am is to finally breathe.

unconditonal love


3 Comments

Carved into You

carved3

*

carved2

*

*

carved5

I focused on pure love as I drew this, and asked my angels to help me in creation, as I am just learning how to draw. When I hold particular people in thought, I ‘blindly’ create images related to how I feel for that person or what he or she moves in me. Here I was focusing on how I wish to carve myself into another, to become one, to share in eternity and never be separated. I felt sorrow of aloneness and longing for discovery and the ability to love myself fully. I do love and accept my own being, I believe, but in this image I see the transitional steps to find that awakening of true self.

I had no idea what I was drawing, beyond a man’s face. I did not add any symbolism with intention. All of the images are ‘random.’ I started off by sketching a face, and about half way through the drawings inside the face started taking form.

I know each of us will see our own truth in this. Here is what I saw:

Cave to the bottom left. This is symbolic of the gnostic Christian teachings of entering the cave of sleep before one is awoken. Symbolic of the Cancerian Zodiac sign.

Focusing on the upper left region, there is another semi-circle that resembles a second cave. To the left inside this cave is a part that could be an ear, and the cave the back of a man’s head. Extending down, this is a man with his back to me. On his back collar is a third-eye. Indicating potential of seeing and seeing more than is faced.

To the left of the nose I see, in diagonal, boys legs with shoes. He shoots through the nose, and his face becomes a fish.

The lip has a serpent. Many interpretations there.

The right eye in the shape of the fish. Pisces Zodiac sign.

I see a phallic symbol on the right cheek.

There are two images leaning forward in the chin as if observing the path to the cave.

At the top of the cave, there appears to be someone climbing out and up.

Wheel at the bottom right. This is symbolic of the wheel of life, of repeated lives either during one lifetime of transitioning and/or repeated rebirths.

Near the wheel, I see a female laying face up, with her feet near the wheel. By her face is a heart. Beside her is a male laying face down, with his arm down and heading to the cave. I see this as one awoken and one asleep, and as the male/female, god/goddess. Also of the desire to be with someone who is face up and seeing what I see.  There is a third figure here, leaning down to the bottom and trying to awaken the male figure.

Little girl in hair, top left. This is symbolic of the rebirthing of my inner child and innocent pure heart. She is in the green grass, symbolic of the poem I wrote earlier today of the green meadow.

Angelic/fairy figure, top right and another near the right ear. The little girl and fairy are symbolic of two merging into one in land of freedom and play.

Angel shape expanding across the nose, head down in mourning, or shooting up in light.

The path to the cave resembles and open palmed hand.

A man collapsed with a shield down, bottom right. (instead of the girl figure face up.) Symbolic of the dark night of the soul.

Two figures hovering about the entrance of the cave.

There are more images I see, but those are the main ones that strike me at this moment.

This is the second charcoal drawing I’ve done in my life time. For the last six weeks or so, I have no choice but to create. I have a burning passion flowing through me all day long, including nights. I create in an attempt to release some of the agape love I feel for the world and for my loved ones. Typically the first five or six hours of my day are spent in painting, drawing, poetry, creating prose, and/or reading spiritual works.

I do not think this is ‘expert’ work or something fantastic to present. But I do believe it is something moving through me, and is quite magical in that sense.

In following the path, from the wheel, to the girl, to the boy, to the cave, to above the cave, through the nose, to the right ear, to the head. This is what I see clearly. It can be traced as a backwards S across the face, starting at the wheel.

The cyclic life, the girl face up with a blindfold, the spirit leaning over and awakening, a string leading to the cave of blindness and awakening, the spirit rising out of the cave, as man traveling through the senses (nose) and coming out symbolic of spirit (fish as Christ), becoming touched by the bird (at right ear), the dove of spirit, assisted by the magic/angelic one, turned child-heart again (girl leaning over in top left) and child of spirit reborn lifting up the brain/mind of others and whispering her universal truth. The overall man, with the back to the world, the blinded ones I seek. To me this is amazing. Truly divine.