Ruminations -investigations of the day -

1.                   Little; mind thinks -what is wrong with me, I must change what I am, what is wrong with me -I must change myself into something else - Or be in some other state-other than what I am.

         Until little mind realizes, that it is not different than the thing, or emotion that is observed, then it will be, never free -  Mr Krishnamurti said- that the observer is the OBSERVED. Is it the old observing the old, or is the new observing the old? In actual fact the revelation of K, is not unlike the formula of Einstien E= mc 2 It has the same magnitude of meaning and of expression - ( of course we should not dismiss that rather charming creature - little mind, oh no, certainly not, but little mind must realize that it is part of the mother.  )However when little mind is still, or incapacitated and remains still - maybe then, and only then, big mind will take over?

 In the Zen koan the student has to go as far as they can in logical analysis, until they reach an
understanding -beyond the logical ! Into the transcendent -into Satori .

       When the ''OBSERVER" realizes that it is the OBSERVED ,the game is over .
               That having been said , the observation of ones conciousness ,on whatever level , without the intervention of the past is ---- is -- supremely difficult ,and maybe only for supreme  idiots -?

             How does one find a pure well of water ? Dig -Dig Dig !

                                     Recurrence     


            
        The swifts are here at last -

              who sees them coming?

         They dive and cry -

              Who observes 

                  Or greets them,

      Who notes the seasons Shift?


       They dive and cry

               Against the sunset wall 

      Of my childhood - 

               Presagers  of time,

    Wing towards oblivion -

                Arch back again -

     Intersecting the present.             

Ode to the pioneers of modern art .

  

                How their spirits

                       Revelled in the freedom

                            Of imagining  -

                 colours and lines,

                              That are just themselves,

                                     And yet magentas magic,

                                                 Fires us -

           Seas of ultramarine

                 And white wisps of waves -

              Delicate chinoiserie,

                      Taunting galligraphics,

                                 Tachists gestured slash-




         Explosions of colour are the colours themselves-

                               Purple is freed from funereal pomp,

                    Black becomes black 

                                 White is what it always was-

                         And yellow shows no fear -

                              A child with a paintbox in its hands!



      Immured from idolatry,

                       Forms and colours create

                              Their own wild destiny

                                      A contour that is not a tree,

                       Pigment that is not a sky -

                                A form that is not a breast

                                      Or hillside- 

                              And yet, the essence of all things. 

Ruminations of the day

             A friend of mine said to me, I don't understand the text that you wrote -So okay here is the new text --- 

 All our experience and knowledge leaves it's scars and creates blockages in ones' being. Experience without the burden of previous experiences that have created a screen in our perception can be a pure perception. However,  the problem is not only how we see the world but how we ARE in the world. How we can live without the influence of the past. 

Above all- to learn to trust life- AGAIN.

,

Ruminations of the day -------

Acrylic and oil -entitled -Doorway( May 2018 )

Ruminations of the day -

            On taking a walk to the shop, on this cold but green April day.          I passed an overhanging lilac tree and took the time to pull           the fragrant flowers towards me and enjoy one of the early 
        Summers intense aromas. If indeed, the eyes are the windows
        of the soul, then surely the nose is a gateway (( and indeed one of the most subtle of all the senses )Yet strangely in very few spiritual traditions, is this sense valued ( as also the sense of taste )  
           Perhaps they are considered to be too primitive?

             I often feel, that all the senses are directly connected to ones being, without the interpretation of the brain and although I know that the idea is very un-scientific let's say they give us a very direct and intense contact with life. And just for a few seconds, before the whole naming and identification process begins, there is a direct link to ones being and to the raw reality of the thing, creature or being that we are seeing, touching, hearing or tasting.