And what is it you want us to know. And what is it you want us to hear. And what is it you want us to go slow about. And if there are more questions, will you let us/me know. O wise ones, have you forgotten the well spring of life that is ever present in the 'now'. Have you forgotten that taking is breaking the spirit of each moment rising in us, that breathes us into being. There is no other reason to ask about art/artists, that will be revealed in due course, but first, take the first step into not-knowing, not doing, not judging or thinking you know. Life knows. I know my children are running wild, un-contained, un-supervised. There is a reason for this that will be revealed as one enters into me - my space of active awareness, active passivity, active non-doing, active responses to what is. By active response I mean to be aware in the instant of the flash of an eye. Breathing with, as the dawn takes my new deepening breaths, my clearing of restrictions in my chest, the coal dust that was released when my children mined, when they cut deep into my belly. It hurt . You only saw your survival first and before all else, all else being everything that sustains you, all else that feeds you, all else that carves your way to heaven, heavenly omnipotence like the nectar of life's ever-endlessness. Circular motions unknown in the geometry science etc and educational worlds of the intellect devoid of knowing who I am. In fact, blindness took your spirit and gobbled you up till the night of darkness was your day. The true light was not even a myth, not even a memory, except for the few of you who stood at the gateways, at the portals of non-being into being, great souls, the fathers and mothers who allowed you to play unsupervised knowing that you had to unleash your childish vigor, curiosity, ignorance. Now we will re-activate your curiosity up into a higher octave. The fathers and mothers are moving veils of ignorance away so your playing will be of substance, so your curiosity will take the light that pours through the now open gateways. The mothers and fathers are holding the doors open allowing the light to flow unhindered. This light moves in curved motions, knows to wind a merry dance around you, has laughter in her. Has the joy of mischief like a new dawn laughing, as the dawn chorus issues in the colours of blood and metal. Yes blood and metal mixed, mixed so they become as one substance, one energy of laughter permeating every cell of us. You my children, I your mother who knows you better than you know yourselves. As mother you must gather in a new way, gather for reasons unknown, just to be together, fusing what comes into being. Like a star constellating shining in the night skies, radiating it's sparkling wonder into the hearts of your sisters and brothers. Older children now you are, being on the threshold of maturity, on the threshold of adulthood, on the threshold of a new dawning beingness where every moment is fresh with un-knowing wonder, un-knowing where the last breath went, not knowing, yet knowing that all is one. Can not be anything else but that. That knowing is present even in your state of duality. Let it become the primary present moment, the primary voice of seeing. And you ask about the artist and the artists role. I am the artist, you are my brush strokes, my palette of a thousand thousand hues. I am the artist who weaves you into being pictures of a thousand thousand shapes, a thousand thousand patterns. Who but your mother know that she does not know how the turning of your days will bring a maturity full or half baked. Throw away your old coat, bury it deep, let it rot away itself, so nothing remains but the memory of it, let the memory of it dissolve into the eternal now of sky mind, of sky eternity that is eve present in our breath. Let the images go into that ever flowing presence that cannot be seen, touched. Let all knowing go into the flowing nothingness and breath the new breath of a thousand years. Breath this new breath like there is no other, let your lungs expand with the freshness of it, let the dust in the corners of your lungs dislodge, let every particle break free, unloosen itself till the pinkness comes back. Let the sadness be known so you feel it going into the vastness of dissolving sky. This sadness is my un-lived self as being. The artist is an imaginal fabrication, a corruption of who I am, a shadow of my realness, a shadow that will come into light, into itself and all the corners will become visible. Look into the lighted corners, what do you see. I see the light as golden day summer light. I see the corners dissolved. I see no walls, no containment. Just a spaciousness. I see nothing defined. It swirls, wants to embrace me, wants to, but I stopped it doing that. O let me know you, know your dance of swirling movement. Let me, let you enfold me into your rhythms. And you know, you know. You know what knowing is. And you know that waiting is the waiting at the birth. For the birth to be allowed to be, wait with an open heart unknowing. Unknowing is the word that I want you to keep at the front of your minds. Let it become your way in every moment of your days. Let it become your breath, your perception through which it flows. Unknowing what will be. Sensing, sensing the atmospheres. Let me tell you a story. Once upon a time there was a bull terrier who hated barking, so he cut out his tongue. Then he bemoaned the taking out of his tongue and asked me if he could have a new one that didn't bark, that said little and the little that was to be said was silver, soft shining like the full moon that reflects the goldeness of sun. And so I gave the bull terrier a new tongue and he became as a new spring leaf, soft and fresh in his energy. And his body became soft, slim, rounded, taller with legs like a dancer. Eyes like the eye at the centre of the earth, full of light, almond shaped, eyelashes like the moon, round and long. And he became more she, put an s before he, and with the energy round and flowing and becoming she. He was no longer a bull terrier, but an unknown, new species, yet to be named. October 2009 |