Aad guray nameh
Jugaad guray nameh
Sat guray nameh
Siri guru devay nameh
I bow to the Primal Guru,
I bow to the Guru woven through time
I bow to the True Guru, the true
identity of the self.
I bow to the Great Guru whose great
glory will always be.
Guru: that which brings us from darkness
(GU) to light (RU).
There is a crack, a tiny hole in the once impenetrable walls.
And though the guards have not noticed and the king sits calmly on his throne,
The engineer is worried.
Silently he measures, calculates and waits.
Waits to tell them the inevitable truth, a truth they do not wish to hear:
The structural integrity has been compromised.
It sounds cool and calm but in his mind he is really saying:
We’re fucked.
One day- not right away, the wall will crack and then crumble
And eventually fall down, all because of that tiny hole.
How could this happen? He had been so vigilant, planned and tested it a thousand times.
Maybe it was the foundation or the mortar
Or an unforeseen wind or movement of the ground.
Be that as it may the whole was there and no amount of plaster could cover the truth.
The wall would fall and they would be left defenseless.
ac 2012
I am breathing again…but only as such.
My heart shutters and tries to rouse itself from this long sleep
But my will casts the spell to keep it dormant.
I fear my heart, I fear being alive.
Learning to accept joy, trust and love again.
I know the spell I cast cannot last.
I feel my heart stir no matter how powerfully
I speak the words to silence it.
One day I will wake and find myself again in the world of the living-
Trusting some part of myself to another.
But for now I stay safe, I stay asleep.
AC 2012
It’s funny how sometimes the people who don’t know us very well make the best observations because their thoughts are not colored by “how far we have come” or “if it will hurt our feelings.”
I unknowingly had this experience a week or so ago and am now just beginning to get the message. A friend of a friend was traveling with a group of us to an event a few hours away and as long car trips are want to do there was lots of conversation there and back.
At some point he and I started talk, not knowing each other there were the usual, “what do you do for a living?” and “do you like it?” kind of questions. Somewhere in the middle of all the “fluff” conversation two things stuck in my head. One that his sister died a few years ago and that he said he couldn’t stand people who wasted their talent (pointed in my direction). At the time I did think much of it- I personally think that I do waste what ever talent I may have had.
Just look at that last sentence- this is what he was referring too. Lots of people are not “really” good at anything notable (whatever that means) but there are people -like me- who know that they are good at something but don’t necessarily do anything with it. I know this is a little convoluted but stay with me I’m almost there.
This brings me to today, a random Sunday afternoon. Nothing special going on, just finished the chores (sorting paper work and filing it- I really hate that) when I happen to open my closet and see art supplies. I should say that, I have not painted, drawn really taken photos or done anything that used my skill as an artist in almost a year.
As my hand brushed over the bamboo pain set I knew that it was time. My excuses had outlived their reality. I told myself for a long time that I just didn’t want to make art but that was not the truth. At its core I did not want to feel. For me to create something I have to let go of the logical controlling part of my mind and open myself to were the art wants to go.
From the moment the brush or pencil touches the paper it is not about a plan or a destination, it only about how I feel as my hand creates mark on a page. This is why I was not making art, I cannot lie to myself and create, it is just not possible. So today I stared down the white paper and though if this friend of a friend who goes to work every day living with the death of his sister. I could tell from the way that he talked about her that he loved her very much and that her loss was still in someways painful to him- if you can ever get over something like that. And it made me think about my own losses.
How long will I choose to use the loss of my old life and an excuse not to live? This man gets up every day and lives, so why can’t I? Why have I let myself fester for so long? I think I was afraid of what would come out of my hands, what I would feel once I opened the door. It was not what I expected.
At first the novelty of it all amused and distracted me. It was pleasant to see that unlike signing, my hand remembered the shapes and colors. But as I went on and I could no longer ignore myself. I could see my lost-ness in the water, confusion in the clouds; a restlessness in the brush strokes…I began to make mistakes.
I could have given up at that point and given myself a great lecture about how “untalented” I really was but I didn’t. Some how I heard a professor telling me that when you get frustrated put your work across the room and look at it, because half of your issues come from being to close to the work.
So I did. It did not make the flaws any less visible but…I saw hope in the dragon fly’s wing and inspiration in the petals of the waterlily and joy in the speckles of the coi fish. I think I have the same problem with my life, I am too close to it. It is easy to stand in the middle of a mess and scream in frustration about how you’re not getting anywhere. It takes more courage to realize that getting past a death or loss of someone or thing in your life is not easy or measured in large steps.
As I look back over the past year I have done a lot of things, most good and all towards finding a life by myself and for myself again. When I stand across the room I can see the progress I have made and I don’t judge the size of the steps against one another, I see how they fit together to make something better than a blank page or scared canvas.
I am not done with the painting, it needs a little more time and attention like my life. But it is beautiful in its own right and so is this new beginning I’m working on. It won’t be done in a day like a painting but it will be just as rewarding when I get there.
So thanks Dave for your insight and willingness to talk to a stranger about your life. I made a difference to me.
I threw my life on the ground and watched it shatter.
In a single moment everything, everything that I knew changed.
I raged, wept and futilely tried to put the pieces together.
I do not remember the moment I realized that my hands where cut and my blood dulled the once bright edges.
I put the shards down and backed away.
From a distance I could see the irrevocable change
But my hands still reached out.
Sheer force of will and the desire to heal stayed them time and time again.
Now a few scares stretch as my hands move once more towards the pieces.
Instead of seeking to replicate what once was, they nimbly dust and wash each;
Looking for the qualities that only it contains: a color, a shape or curvature.
Carefully I lay them out in the mud of this new life.
I am unsure how one piece will sit next to another: if the edges will combine to please the eye,
If the colors still compliment in this erratic new state.
But as each piece finds its place I see the whole better, I trust the wisdom of my hands.
It is not the piece I set out to make, not in its function or form
But it is stronger and more beautiful for the breaking.
AC 2012
This past Saturday I took myself on a day trip to Grand Bay Wildlife Refuge which is less than 10 min from my house. I was really surprised by how nice the picnic area was and how long the board walk to the tower is.
It was cold and quiet, it made for the perfect morning stroll. I enjoyed the solitude and the chance to just be with nature far away from the sounds of people. I forget sometimes how necessary it is to remember my place in the world as just one small thing living with many others; some much older than myself.
There is a cypress stump there that they think was around 600 yrs old when the loggers cut it down. That is older than our country! I didn’t see many animals a few small birds and one heron. There were some late season flowers and weeds making a go of it before we get frost.
I had a really good time, it was nice to get out and take some photos. Here are a couple more.
