I have often used the phrase, “That blew my mind.” I imagine my mind exploding into a million bits, that fly in all directions, each seeking enlightenment. My brain is so shocked by this event that it is reconstituted into a new brain ~ capable of thinking in amazing ways it could not even imagine before. Blown Apart Poor Erma thought differently: I have a theory about the human mind. A brain is a lot like a computer. It will only take so many facts, and then it will go on ov
I feel over stimulated, yet under nourished, here. She patted her chest, as if her heart hurt. Maybe you have to stop just accepting the rules, he whispered. What? She looked up, her attention caught. If he had stated it loudly, she would have been angry. You know, that it’s the information age and we need to be constantly plugging in, surfing for hours a day, answering and sending emails, making comments, commenting on comments . . . . I don’t know if I can do this anymore.
. Breakthrough We long for breakthroughs, for the illuminating light at the end of the tunnel, for enlightenment that will banish our doubt and re-ignite our faith. Maybe all we need to do is go among trees. I go among trees and sit still.
All my stirring becomes quiet
around me like circles on water.
My tasks lie in their places
where I left them, asleep like cattle.
Then what is afraid of me comes
and lives a while in my sight.
What it fears in me leaves me,
and the fear of
I took a few journals outside to spray with workable fixative. I placed a double page spread on the patio stones, and was delighted with the way the plants above them cast shadows over them. Of course I had to run and get my camera and capture the effect on a few more pages. Having plant shadows fall on pages that have a plant-like feel to them is a nice accident. Nice accident sounds like an oxymoron to me ~ that’s why Jung coined the word synchronicity to use instead. Plant
Most of us are familiar with the Tibetan art of sand painting. Dul-tson-kyil-kho is an ancient tradition practiced by Lamas to reconsecrate the Earth, and everything upon it. Created in the form of a mandala, each sand painting is painstakingly and reverently constructed with fine colored sand. Traditionally most sand mandalas are destroyed shortly after their completion. This is done as a metaphor of the impermanence of life. The sands are swept up and placed in an urn; to f
I always enjoy perusing the many classes that are offered to those of us who pursue the art muse. There are teachers who are gifted facilitators. It’s as if they are tied in to each student’s soul: they pull a string here, tug a string there, and the work that pours forth now amplifies whatever that particular artist was doing before. I would compare it to being in the presence of a person who has achieved a certain stage of enlightenment. Your consciousness level rises to me