Not sure where life is taking me but I decided that I will NOT live in Fear! I will not settle and just stay in comfort zones.. I am excited to see what life throws at me everyday. Always meeting new people, new friends. I had a job opportunity to run a Sonic here in Shawnee, but it was the lowest profit Sonic and I decided it was not what I wanted. Not that store. I want something more. If I was offered my own store, then I would have jumped on it! HAHA But still think that I am planning on Moving to Eufaula in May! Get to be with my Dad & my Bro Steve. Gonna kill me being farther away from Mom.. But she is gonna have to get away on Weekends.. atleast every other weekend. We got ALOT of art and craft ideas to do!! I am hoping when I move to Eufaula and start working for dad, I will then have the time and money to start doing what I love the most! My ART!!! My mom is all in about helping me and I am just so excited about it! I am ready to start living the life I want! Start taking control again like it use to be. There are still a few things that kinda get me down from time to time.. but It will all come in time I hope :)
HOPE FAITH & LOVE!!
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Heart of Glass
I LOVE THIS GUYS WORK!! ITS AMAZING!!!
Chihuly: Glass Artist by Margaret Haberman
Daryl Smith, 39, blows and twirls a glob of glowing glass at the end of a long stainless steel pipe, rolling the molten mass on a table to fashion an orange-red icicle shape at the Seattle studio of American glass master Dale Chihuly. Using an array of torches, files, crimps, tweezers and shears, Smith curls, imprints and cuts the fiery shape—moving it in and out of a 2,150-degree furnace to keep the material pliable —before a fellow craftsman places the glass in a cooling oven.
The finished object is one of 1,800 pieces being used to create a massive sculpture for Chihuly’s most ambitious project to date—the 1½-acre Chihuly Garden and Glass exhibit opening later this year in Seattle. The venture’s hallmark glass house will feature a massive installation 100 feet long and 25 feet high.
“People are going to see it and go, ‘Whoa!’” says Chihuly, 70. One of America’s most prominent and prolific living artists, Chihuly is credited with elevating the craft of glassmaking to a fine art. His inventive sculptures—abstract baskets, colorful sea forms, lavish towers and effusive chandeliers—appear in the permanent collections of more than 200 museums worldwide and countless private collections.
Chihuly himself is a striking figure, with a barrel chest, a patch covering his blind left eye and a crown of curly hair. He offers a simple explanation for his success in recasting glass as a popular artistic movement.
“I think people like to look at something they’ve never seen before,” he says. “And that’s what I try to do.”
The charismatic artist and his team create Chihuly’s glassworks in a studio along Seattle’s waterfront housed in a former racing shell factory that he dubbed the Boathouse. Inside the “hot shop” before a row of furnaces, Smith wears sunglasses and works as the gaffer, or head glassblower, using heat and motion to stretch glass into various forms. For the icicle shape, he gyrates the superheated glass bubble attached to his pipe until it sags and droops—a signature technique of his boss.
“Glass has a mind of its own, and the way I work is using fire and centrifugal force and gravity,” Chihuly explains.
His work has become a source of pride in his native Tacoma, thanks in part to the artist and many public displays of his sculptures in the city’s cultural district. The most famous is the Chihuly Bridge of Glass, a 500-foot-long pedestrian walkway that was built in 2002.
Daryl Smith, 39, blows and twirls a glob of glowing glass at the end of a long stainless steel pipe, rolling the molten mass on a table to fashion an orange-red icicle shape at the Seattle studio of American glass master Dale Chihuly. Using an array of torches, files, crimps, tweezers and shears, Smith curls, imprints and cuts the fiery shape—moving it in and out of a 2,150-degree furnace to keep the material pliable —before a fellow craftsman places the glass in a cooling oven.
The finished object is one of 1,800 pieces being used to create a massive sculpture for Chihuly’s most ambitious project to date—the 1½-acre Chihuly Garden and Glass exhibit opening later this year in Seattle. The venture’s hallmark glass house will feature a massive installation 100 feet long and 25 feet high.
“People are going to see it and go, ‘Whoa!’” says Chihuly, 70. One of America’s most prominent and prolific living artists, Chihuly is credited with elevating the craft of glassmaking to a fine art. His inventive sculptures—abstract baskets, colorful sea forms, lavish towers and effusive chandeliers—appear in the permanent collections of more than 200 museums worldwide and countless private collections.
Chihuly himself is a striking figure, with a barrel chest, a patch covering his blind left eye and a crown of curly hair. He offers a simple explanation for his success in recasting glass as a popular artistic movement.
“I think people like to look at something they’ve never seen before,” he says. “And that’s what I try to do.”
The charismatic artist and his team create Chihuly’s glassworks in a studio along Seattle’s waterfront housed in a former racing shell factory that he dubbed the Boathouse. Inside the “hot shop” before a row of furnaces, Smith wears sunglasses and works as the gaffer, or head glassblower, using heat and motion to stretch glass into various forms. For the icicle shape, he gyrates the superheated glass bubble attached to his pipe until it sags and droops—a signature technique of his boss.
“Glass has a mind of its own, and the way I work is using fire and centrifugal force and gravity,” Chihuly explains.
His work has become a source of pride in his native Tacoma, thanks in part to the artist and many public displays of his sculptures in the city’s cultural district. The most famous is the Chihuly Bridge of Glass, a 500-foot-long pedestrian walkway that was built in 2002.
1st yr of my life in moms planner
My Mom drove a '86 Cadillac. We lived in Hobart where I was born. I was born Dec on Fri 22nd 1989, 7lbs 15 1/2oz. Arrived home Sat Dec 30th the next week. Jan 9th had a dr apt, weighed 8lbs 7oz. Went to my Grandma Bakers on the 12th cause my bro Steve had a Conference Tournament that next day. I would stay with my Grandparents the Bakers during the wrestling matches. Feb 11th my cousin Michael was born 7lb 1/2 oz 19". My oldest Brother turned 18 Feb 16th. Dad turned 39 that March 13th. Gma & Gpa Kneisel had been together for 35yrs March 29th. She has written down all the tournaments for the boys and the proms and all the school stuff. My mom was so awesome. She was always on top of everything and never missed a single things of any of our school lives or sports or anything. Having me a new born and still attending all the school and active in the sports and all. She was busy busy, but always there. John graduated Thursday May 17th from Hobart. My grandparents the Bakers had been married 41 yrs on May 29th. My bro Steve turned 16 on May 31st.
Part that makes me laugh... June 4th we had Swiss steak for dinner that mon, tues BBQ chicken, Wed ate out, Fri Meatloaf, Sat roast, sun porkchops... haha Went to Grandma Bakers family reunion July 1st.. of course I don't remember any of that haha. Ummm.. Stephen wreck the Cadillac July 18th.. shame shame.. August 2nd I was rolling over and setting up on my own. We traveled a lot to Lawton, and Weatherford, Texas, Shawnee.. Always going to families houses. Seems like every other weekend I was going somewhere or people were coming up to stay. Wish things like that didn't change. One I was old enough to start remembering things everyone else was living out on their own and now its impossible to get family together or go visit. August 6th I saw Train at Ada lol. It says Brandy was 5 August 21.... The Chow Brandy??? hehe She was our guard dog.. No one could come near me besides close family. She was extra protective over me :) September 6th was Monico turned 16.. RIP... The 8th I got to see and pet my 1st horse, It was Steve's girlfriend Kristi's horse :) I loved going to her parents house and see the horsies!! My Aunt Kee & uncle Richard had been married 20 yrs by Sept 19th, 1990. My 1st tooth Sept 27th lol.. What the heck!! Nov 15th... "Pics of Kristin in tub with spaghetti on face & in Minnie mouse suit".... Really?? HAHA!!! Dec 17th Barty sarted working my Lawton. 22nd was my 1st BDAY!! 23rd had Christmas at the Bakers, 24th at home then at the Harris's, then 25th Christmas at the Kneisel's.. sounds about right.. That's how Christmas was just about every year growing up. Some years I have even more Christmas's HAHA.
Part that makes me laugh... June 4th we had Swiss steak for dinner that mon, tues BBQ chicken, Wed ate out, Fri Meatloaf, Sat roast, sun porkchops... haha Went to Grandma Bakers family reunion July 1st.. of course I don't remember any of that haha. Ummm.. Stephen wreck the Cadillac July 18th.. shame shame.. August 2nd I was rolling over and setting up on my own. We traveled a lot to Lawton, and Weatherford, Texas, Shawnee.. Always going to families houses. Seems like every other weekend I was going somewhere or people were coming up to stay. Wish things like that didn't change. One I was old enough to start remembering things everyone else was living out on their own and now its impossible to get family together or go visit. August 6th I saw Train at Ada lol. It says Brandy was 5 August 21.... The Chow Brandy??? hehe She was our guard dog.. No one could come near me besides close family. She was extra protective over me :) September 6th was Monico turned 16.. RIP... The 8th I got to see and pet my 1st horse, It was Steve's girlfriend Kristi's horse :) I loved going to her parents house and see the horsies!! My Aunt Kee & uncle Richard had been married 20 yrs by Sept 19th, 1990. My 1st tooth Sept 27th lol.. What the heck!! Nov 15th... "Pics of Kristin in tub with spaghetti on face & in Minnie mouse suit".... Really?? HAHA!!! Dec 17th Barty sarted working my Lawton. 22nd was my 1st BDAY!! 23rd had Christmas at the Bakers, 24th at home then at the Harris's, then 25th Christmas at the Kneisel's.. sounds about right.. That's how Christmas was just about every year growing up. Some years I have even more Christmas's HAHA.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Drowning Pool Interview
Drowning pool
is an alternative metal, hard rock band. They have been together since 1996. The
original members were Dave Williams (Vocal), C.J. Pierce (Guitar), Stevie Benton
(Bass Guitar) and Mike Luce (Drums). In 2002, Dave Williams past away with heart
problems. Ryan McCombs, ex-lead singer from SOiL, joined the band in 2005. They
are still playing the old music and with there new and first CD with Ryan in the
band, Full Circle , they are keeping the music together and having fun just like
in the old days. They are now on tour, This Is For The Soldiers. This interview
was with C.J. Pierce and may help you understand what they are trying to do and
all about. Go to http://thisisforthesoldiers.org/ to check out more.
What was the meaning of the song Full Circle , on
your newest CD?
Full Circle means moving forward. After the death
of our vocalist Dave Williams, who died from the left ventricle of his heart
failing, we were talking to an old buddy Ryan McCombs. Ryan was a singer for
SOiL, and became a lead singer for us in ’05. Its all about going back out and
having fun again. We get to go back to all the clubs and places we played at
before and the crowd keeps growing each time. Which I guess if it didn’t then it
means we need to pack up go back home and make a new CD.
In this tour, This is For The Soldiers, what is
your reasoning? Exactly what are you trying to do for the soldiers?
When the troops come home they are thrown back
into their homes and lives like nothing happened. There are mental scars from
what they saw. They see things most will never see or feel in their entire
lives. The soldiers fall into anything from depression to alcoholism to suicide.
This tour is to help petition for mandatory screening to see what is going on
and if the soldiers need counseling.
What was it like going to Iraq and meeting all the
soldiers? To actually see what they experience and what they are going
through?
It was an awesome experience. When you see
everything on TV you get a mental picture of what everything is going to be like
when they actually show the worst of it. We went over there and actually saw a
lot of good. You see the hopes of peace which is the reason they are fighting. I
realized how much we all take for granted when you go across seas and see that
these people don’t have bathrooms or toilet paper. The soldiers are put into
these war zones and being shot at and it was a great experience to be able to
have the chance to go over there and take a piece of home with you and give them
a rock show. We performed one show in 127◦F weather.
What was is like to meet Barak Obama?
We went with a copy of proposal of the Lane Evans
Mental Health Care Reform Bill and we walked in and he was not in his office. As
we were leaving he comes up and was like hey are you Drowning Pool. We were like
hey you know us thats awesome. It was crazy getting out at Capital hill and
everyone is wearing suits and ties and we are just dressed in regular clothes.
How do you go about choosing songs for the
concerts?
It is a constant battle. Everyone has their
favorite songs out of the 3 records we have made. We try and mix it up between
the 3 where it flows with the heavier and lighter songs. Sometimes, depending on
the type of crowd we will just change up songs in the middle of the show.
Anything you would like to say to
everyone?
To all the fans, I know you are busy with school
and work, but it is nice to be able to get out with friends and socialize. Come
to the rock show July 16th at Fusion Affect and hang out with
us. We are always just hanging out with everyone at the shows.
Lost...
Sometimes I feel so lost and depressed. People I think I can trust, I never can. How can I ever meet anyone or ever have a relationship again. Jonathan took everything from me. Now he is gone from my life and I just pray he does not ever come back. Then today I come home from work and someone has been here. Jody is the only one with the code. Stuff has been moved around, random stuff. Took all the Avon from under the sink and threw away the boxes. Looked thru my books, my jeans were in the bathroom like someone had tried them one and my perfume was on the bathroom counter. A cup was set out were someone got something to drink. They took my Uggs. I want to move away! I want a new house where no one knows where I live. Luckily nothing like my computer or TV was taken. but still upsets me all the same. Thought I could trust him and let him stay in my home. Forget everyone!! Im done, tired and exhausted of all these damn people!
Saturday, February 18, 2012
U.S. Used Nazi Salute During Pledge Of Allegiance Before WWII
Today's Forgotten History: Americans used to salute the flag during the Pledge of Allegiance until 1942, when Congress banned the practice because it was too similar to the salutes used by Nazi's and fascists during WWII.The salute was called the Bellamy salute, created by Francis Bellamy, who also created the Pledge of Allegiance. When the practice was banned in 1942, it was replaced by the hand over the heart gesture still in practice today.Below is a picture of U.S. school children saluting the flag while reciting the Pledge of Allegiance.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Art
By Nafeez Mosaddeq Ahmed, England.
What is “art”?
At its most deep and basic level, art is expression.
Everything is art.
We are surrounded by art:
the way we talk; the way we eat; the way we smile;
The way we hate; the way we love; the way we work; the way we dream.
The way we act is simply an expression of what we are, or what we have let
ourselves become. And in this sense, life is art.
Art, as a creative process, is often a
Conscious expression of an idea, a theme, an emotion, a perception.
Every move we make is art,
Conscious or unconscious.
The world we have all contributed to sculpting,
Which, in turn, sculpts us,
Is art, a reflection of the collective labyrinth of our hearts.
Art is about bringing out what is within,
A process of manifestation,
Since manifestation is the primary essence of expression.
Art is therefore the endeavour to know oneself,
To bring out what lies within, and to perceive it, to understand it.
In expressing a perception, a feeling, an idea,
One is portraying what is within oneself,
What one grasps with one’s consciousness,
To what is without oneself and within the “other”;
One is communicating, bridging the gap between hearts,
Dissolving separation.
Art is a striving towards a certain harmony between all beings,
towards unity.
Art is the endeavour to become one with oneself,
To understand oneself,
By contemplating what is brought forth out of oneself in the creative process;
It is the endeavour to become one with others,
In the act of conveying to the heart of others,
What one’s own heart comprehends;
It is the endeavour for self-realisation,
And realisation of the unity of all hearts.
Art is a striving against that which separates and deludes,
A movement towards the attainment of the knowledge
That division and conflict are the overflow of illusion.
The perfection of art is the erosion of illusion
And the evolution of a pristine, unitary vision of life and reality.
The true artist is one who,
Perhaps unwittingly,
Is attempting to grind away the barriers of self-deceit within the soul,
To topple the walls of misunderstanding that divide all souls.
The true artist is one who,
Whether they know it or not,
Aims to dissolve all such fragmentation,
To heal the wounds scattered within and without,
To bring us to an unadulterated clarity,
A pristine awareness of the deep relationship
Which is the Root and Sky of all things.
The true artist is not merely one who paints,
Who composes songs,
Who sculpts,
Who writes poetry or prose,
But is someone who starkly perceives the fragmentation of their own being,
Of society,
And who, through art,
Seeks to draw their being - and all beings - together,
In the name of achieving the vision of Truth.
The true artist is one
Who carries the endeavour for the perfection of art
Into all spheres of life,
For it is only upon the vast canvas of Life Itself
That art can reach its fullest possible perfection,
That unity can have its fullest possible expression.
The perfection of the art of living,
Which embraces, transcends and includes all modes of art,
Is the goal of the true artist.
Real art lies not in painting,
Not in writing,
Not in singing,
But in living,
For it is only in living that life has its purest and most meaningful
expression.
Thus, the deepest and most crucial question
The artist must constantly seek insight into
Is that which asks,
“What is the meaning, the purpose, the reality,
That life itself is supposed to express,
What is the supreme ineffable mystery that alone is worthy of expression?”
It is a meaning that overflows from the Supreme Unity
Which embraces all things,
That the true artist intuitively seeks to unveil.
The artist is contantly searching for insight into this,
Not merely in the various modes of art recognised by a culture,
But in life itself,
For it is the perfection of living that is true art.
Art is the endeavour for love:
For in striving to know oneself, to know the other,
To reveal oneself to oneself, to reveal oneself to the other,
In striving to unite all
In the apprehension of what is within and without,
One is striving to give expression to the relationship,
The Compassion, the Majesty, the Beauty,
Which is the Root and Sky of all things.
A work of art reflects,
In some way,
The artist who worked it.
In any creative act there is a symbol of some dimension of the artist’s being.
Any expression is a manifestation of a living depth that yearns to be known.
Art is an expression of the yearning to be known and to know.
Art is the recognition that only in relationship are we real as individuals.
Art is the realisation that reality is perfect relationship, endless
compassion, all-embracing Unity.
We are all unconscious artists,
Carving our lives brutally in the sensitive flesh of Nature.
We should learn not to carve, but to flow with the secret song of Truth
That guides the Universe we are so divorced from.
We wonder why life can be so brutal,
But is it not sheer ignorance of the sovereignty of harmony,
That guides our driven fingers to contruct this wasteland of egoism we call
“life”?
Reality repays humanity with what humanity itself strives to be.
Who is to blame for unnoticed injustice and corruption,
Except the lame artist
Who paints, who sings, who writes,
Who works, rests and plays
Without knowing why?
Who is to blame for ignorance, suffering and disharmony,
Except the divided humanity that knows not what it means to be human?
Who would deny the reality of the pain of those without shelter?
Those whose stomachs bulge in malnutrition?
Those whose hearts ache in hopelessness?
Those who are poverty-stricken?
Starving?
Thirsty?
Bereaved?
Orphaned?
Oppressed?
Those who are the victims of a sick system?
Those who surround us, yet remain invisible?
Is it not the blind artist of humanity, that maims its Mother,
That maims itself, in the name of fun, pleasure and power,
That cuts at its own body,
Deaf to its own howls of torment, horror and despair?
Blind to the blood that streams down our stricken cheeks,
Deaf to our cries that yearn for mercy and hope,
Dumb because the intoxicated drug-soaked sponge of our consciousness
Keeps us ignorant of the truth,
Drunk, uncoordinated, incoherent.
And when Truth chooses to awaken this “artist”,
And surely It shall,
What will stop us from beholding the Beauty, the Majesty, of Truth Itself,
What will prevent us from trembling in terror
At the realisation of our pettiness, our blindness,
What will halt us on our reckoning with Justice,
With our own wounds, our own scars, our own insanity?
For life is but a dream on the way to death,
And death, an awakening unto the reality of life.
Nature is the work of the
Ultimate Artist,
All things dance to Its secret melody
Of harmony, wisdom and peace.
And we are Its vicegerents,
Come to paint the only picture worth painting.
But so far have we fallen
From Truth’s sweet embrace,
So low have we become
Compared to the height of love’s glory.
Die before ye die:
Awaken to reality from the dream of your life,
Before death rips open your eyelids
And you can do nothing but behold the Truth
Of Love and Justice
That shows you what you are
And what you have become.
What have we made of life?
For us, life is a dream that we weave for ourselves
In a haze of ignorant assumption.
Life is a labyrinth of need and desire,
Of pain and pleasure,
Of work and play,
So predictable in its small pointless surprises.
So many things have we invented to pass the time,
So many goals, so many amusements, so many tasks,
On the foundations of some ineffable drive to be.
(To be what? What does it mean to be?)
We know not the Aim
So we invent our own ones.
We know not the Path
So we tread where we like.
We are scattered about in our isolated dreams,
Tossed to and fro by tides of our own making.
The world we have sculpted is a manifestation of what we have become.
We are surrounded by a symbol of ourselves.
These ugly cities and trash-ridden slums,
These wasted villages and smoke-filled skies,
These heart-hungry bullets and blood-thirsty bombs,
These money-craving business men and war-torn nations,
These luxurious decadent elites and oppressed poverty-stricken masses,
Are but facets of the world
That is but a reflection of the hearts which sustain it.
We are swamped in the pointlessness of our own art,
Immersed in the relativity of our own values,
Caught in the web of our own confusion.
We are so ignorant and yet we do not even acknowledge
Our own ignorance.
The drug that soaks the sponge of our minds
Is our own global self-portrait, self-deceit.
We are blinded by our own reflection,
Bombarded by the emergent insanity of our collective vanity.
Our language, our culture, our politics, our economics, our ideals, our norms,
Express the fragmentation at the very core of our being.
Art without the spirit of its own nature -
To become awake -
Is but perversion and blindness.
True art,
Art that is true to itself
Is meditation,
Its goal being insight into oneself,
And mutual compassion.
A work of art is a window into the soul of the artist.
True art is a bridge between hearts,
A purging of the impurity of illusions that divide people.
Art is a resurrection of inner depth,
Inward plenitude,
An eruption of emotion,
Of intense tranquility,
A flower plucked from a land of forgotten dreams.
What is this land of forgotten dreams?
It is but the reality of our relationship,
Our unity as brothers, as sisters,
Our oneness
Through the Unity that embraces all things.
Art is remembrance.
Our art reflects what we become, and what we are devoted to.
But we are artists, who know not why.
We paint our history a schizophrenic portrait
Because we know not why, we know not how
And we do not care.
What is “art”?
At its most deep and basic level, art is expression.
Everything is art.
We are surrounded by art:
the way we talk; the way we eat; the way we smile;
The way we hate; the way we love; the way we work; the way we dream.
The way we act is simply an expression of what we are, or what we have let
ourselves become. And in this sense, life is art.
Art, as a creative process, is often a
Conscious expression of an idea, a theme, an emotion, a perception.
Every move we make is art,
Conscious or unconscious.
The world we have all contributed to sculpting,
Which, in turn, sculpts us,
Is art, a reflection of the collective labyrinth of our hearts.
Art is about bringing out what is within,
A process of manifestation,
Since manifestation is the primary essence of expression.
Art is therefore the endeavour to know oneself,
To bring out what lies within, and to perceive it, to understand it.
In expressing a perception, a feeling, an idea,
One is portraying what is within oneself,
What one grasps with one’s consciousness,
To what is without oneself and within the “other”;
One is communicating, bridging the gap between hearts,
Dissolving separation.
Art is a striving towards a certain harmony between all beings,
towards unity.
Art is the endeavour to become one with oneself,
To understand oneself,
By contemplating what is brought forth out of oneself in the creative process;
It is the endeavour to become one with others,
In the act of conveying to the heart of others,
What one’s own heart comprehends;
It is the endeavour for self-realisation,
And realisation of the unity of all hearts.
Art is a striving against that which separates and deludes,
A movement towards the attainment of the knowledge
That division and conflict are the overflow of illusion.
The perfection of art is the erosion of illusion
And the evolution of a pristine, unitary vision of life and reality.
The true artist is one who,
Perhaps unwittingly,
Is attempting to grind away the barriers of self-deceit within the soul,
To topple the walls of misunderstanding that divide all souls.
The true artist is one who,
Whether they know it or not,
Aims to dissolve all such fragmentation,
To heal the wounds scattered within and without,
To bring us to an unadulterated clarity,
A pristine awareness of the deep relationship
Which is the Root and Sky of all things.
The true artist is not merely one who paints,
Who composes songs,
Who sculpts,
Who writes poetry or prose,
But is someone who starkly perceives the fragmentation of their own being,
Of society,
And who, through art,
Seeks to draw their being - and all beings - together,
In the name of achieving the vision of Truth.
The true artist is one
Who carries the endeavour for the perfection of art
Into all spheres of life,
For it is only upon the vast canvas of Life Itself
That art can reach its fullest possible perfection,
That unity can have its fullest possible expression.
The perfection of the art of living,
Which embraces, transcends and includes all modes of art,
Is the goal of the true artist.
Real art lies not in painting,
Not in writing,
Not in singing,
But in living,
For it is only in living that life has its purest and most meaningful
expression.
Thus, the deepest and most crucial question
The artist must constantly seek insight into
Is that which asks,
“What is the meaning, the purpose, the reality,
That life itself is supposed to express,
What is the supreme ineffable mystery that alone is worthy of expression?”
It is a meaning that overflows from the Supreme Unity
Which embraces all things,
That the true artist intuitively seeks to unveil.
The artist is contantly searching for insight into this,
Not merely in the various modes of art recognised by a culture,
But in life itself,
For it is the perfection of living that is true art.
Art is the endeavour for love:
For in striving to know oneself, to know the other,
To reveal oneself to oneself, to reveal oneself to the other,
In striving to unite all
In the apprehension of what is within and without,
One is striving to give expression to the relationship,
The Compassion, the Majesty, the Beauty,
Which is the Root and Sky of all things.
A work of art reflects,
In some way,
The artist who worked it.
In any creative act there is a symbol of some dimension of the artist’s being.
Any expression is a manifestation of a living depth that yearns to be known.
Art is an expression of the yearning to be known and to know.
Art is the recognition that only in relationship are we real as individuals.
Art is the realisation that reality is perfect relationship, endless
compassion, all-embracing Unity.
We are all unconscious artists,
Carving our lives brutally in the sensitive flesh of Nature.
We should learn not to carve, but to flow with the secret song of Truth
That guides the Universe we are so divorced from.
We wonder why life can be so brutal,
But is it not sheer ignorance of the sovereignty of harmony,
That guides our driven fingers to contruct this wasteland of egoism we call
“life”?
Reality repays humanity with what humanity itself strives to be.
Who is to blame for unnoticed injustice and corruption,
Except the lame artist
Who paints, who sings, who writes,
Who works, rests and plays
Without knowing why?
Who is to blame for ignorance, suffering and disharmony,
Except the divided humanity that knows not what it means to be human?
Who would deny the reality of the pain of those without shelter?
Those whose stomachs bulge in malnutrition?
Those whose hearts ache in hopelessness?
Those who are poverty-stricken?
Starving?
Thirsty?
Bereaved?
Orphaned?
Oppressed?
Those who are the victims of a sick system?
Those who surround us, yet remain invisible?
Is it not the blind artist of humanity, that maims its Mother,
That maims itself, in the name of fun, pleasure and power,
That cuts at its own body,
Deaf to its own howls of torment, horror and despair?
Blind to the blood that streams down our stricken cheeks,
Deaf to our cries that yearn for mercy and hope,
Dumb because the intoxicated drug-soaked sponge of our consciousness
Keeps us ignorant of the truth,
Drunk, uncoordinated, incoherent.
And when Truth chooses to awaken this “artist”,
And surely It shall,
What will stop us from beholding the Beauty, the Majesty, of Truth Itself,
What will prevent us from trembling in terror
At the realisation of our pettiness, our blindness,
What will halt us on our reckoning with Justice,
With our own wounds, our own scars, our own insanity?
For life is but a dream on the way to death,
And death, an awakening unto the reality of life.
Nature is the work of the
Ultimate Artist,
All things dance to Its secret melody
Of harmony, wisdom and peace.
And we are Its vicegerents,
Come to paint the only picture worth painting.
But so far have we fallen
From Truth’s sweet embrace,
So low have we become
Compared to the height of love’s glory.
Die before ye die:
Awaken to reality from the dream of your life,
Before death rips open your eyelids
And you can do nothing but behold the Truth
Of Love and Justice
That shows you what you are
And what you have become.
What have we made of life?
For us, life is a dream that we weave for ourselves
In a haze of ignorant assumption.
Life is a labyrinth of need and desire,
Of pain and pleasure,
Of work and play,
So predictable in its small pointless surprises.
So many things have we invented to pass the time,
So many goals, so many amusements, so many tasks,
On the foundations of some ineffable drive to be.
(To be what? What does it mean to be?)
We know not the Aim
So we invent our own ones.
We know not the Path
So we tread where we like.
We are scattered about in our isolated dreams,
Tossed to and fro by tides of our own making.
The world we have sculpted is a manifestation of what we have become.
We are surrounded by a symbol of ourselves.
These ugly cities and trash-ridden slums,
These wasted villages and smoke-filled skies,
These heart-hungry bullets and blood-thirsty bombs,
These money-craving business men and war-torn nations,
These luxurious decadent elites and oppressed poverty-stricken masses,
Are but facets of the world
That is but a reflection of the hearts which sustain it.
We are swamped in the pointlessness of our own art,
Immersed in the relativity of our own values,
Caught in the web of our own confusion.
We are so ignorant and yet we do not even acknowledge
Our own ignorance.
The drug that soaks the sponge of our minds
Is our own global self-portrait, self-deceit.
We are blinded by our own reflection,
Bombarded by the emergent insanity of our collective vanity.
Our language, our culture, our politics, our economics, our ideals, our norms,
Express the fragmentation at the very core of our being.
Art without the spirit of its own nature -
To become awake -
Is but perversion and blindness.
True art,
Art that is true to itself
Is meditation,
Its goal being insight into oneself,
And mutual compassion.
A work of art is a window into the soul of the artist.
True art is a bridge between hearts,
A purging of the impurity of illusions that divide people.
Art is a resurrection of inner depth,
Inward plenitude,
An eruption of emotion,
Of intense tranquility,
A flower plucked from a land of forgotten dreams.
What is this land of forgotten dreams?
It is but the reality of our relationship,
Our unity as brothers, as sisters,
Our oneness
Through the Unity that embraces all things.
Art is remembrance.
Our art reflects what we become, and what we are devoted to.
But we are artists, who know not why.
We paint our history a schizophrenic portrait
Because we know not why, we know not how
And we do not care.
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