|What is a divination drawing?||Home||Free email subscription|
|Searching the ground, ass in the air.|
Multi-tasking attention amongst
Equally strong desires
Incomplete in focus
Until releasing to resonate
Parallel simultaneous whole
The robot will write his own story
One data point in possibility space
The bias against creativity
stems from a desire
Forward Plunge fuck'em unknowing
Endlessly every reveal
|What is the flavor of contemplating good taste?|
|What wall exists to dissolve?|
|Every day a different way.|
|The enso leaves home, one stroke follows another, and the journey begins.|
Today I explored holding focus
and openness simultaneously,
allowing different parts of the brain
to fall into
different resonant vibrations,
and I found liberation
lines of communication
me and you
I'm almost finished painting one new large work while carving the next. The more absorbed I get in these new pieces the slower I get at writing. But the story continues...
A month or so ago I was telling about a weekend I spent totally immersed in my studio. The ending to that story is that the intensity and insight I experienced on that long weekend was not the peak I believed at the time; but, really, just an initiation into a life spent focused on and loving art.
Working late into the night,
seduced by expansion.
My first experience of non-separateness was with a tree. Suddenly I was transported to a high point of view, I saw and felt the world through my leaves; and yet I still knew myself as myself, the awareness was unchanged. I was both me and the tree simultaneously, not separate.
And even just now on my way to the studio I felt a moment connected to the trees in the yard. They seemed worried, swaying in the icy wind, and my thought was, "Whatever happens to you happens to me."
I worry about the diminishing number of trees in the world. I worry about my family being safe. I worry about the new light in my studio causing a fire, but I know things are safe. I realize the truth; I'm worried about the studio visit tomorrow and worry seems to stick to every thought.
Amid projects, emotions, and seasons,
I note the liminality in every moment.
In between projects
Things get sketchy
|Twenty ways to look at snow|