passion strokes

i let the breezes pass
through to dry the paint.

fervor, passion strokes.
i was so fearful of letting
myself dream, form a fantasy,
allow myself to say"what if?"
and see it. paint it.
i resisted, and the painting said
"if not here, where?"

when the other painters saw my work:
"juicy wild abandon!"
"water mystery of male & female, opposites working together"
"when i see you painting, i feel turned on! adventure!"
"i feel loved"

i feel myself carried away from familiar
floating on a downstream of rapid
unknown filling the horizon
change, change, change
leaving, arriving
is all we seem to do.

the top quarter of the painting

the pregnant oracle

i paint with words, more beautiful
than what i make with actual paint.
i vibrate the sounds within, wield
pictures with sounds, syllables

.............................................

holding the moment, eyes
roll back under lids, feeling
deeply into the silence.
Bliss sings my heart.

realize where i am
amongst the beauty,
reverberations of serenity
echoing from the corners
back through me and sent
out again, amplified as
the red glow of my dress
is vivacious against the
green of the plants in the
room that sit like an audience
for me; i feel their attention.

i sense the life under my skin,
warm energy brightening the
elements this body is composed
of. "i have life for you!" it says,
without words, with full feeling.

this womb that has wept, held
strong, built, been denied, longed,
danced; she sings for her equal,
wanting to merge, wanting ecstasy
of uniting. the remembrance of Eden
buried in the nucleus, extraordinary
energy, powerful & difficult.

your breath on my neck reminds me
of everything i want, awakening
rapture fire, activating chemistry
as ancient as alchemy, lighting up
my eyes, lining up my stars
on the edge of a new destiny, an
unexpected direction, a myriad of
choices.

choosing it

not choosing it

i am told i am limitless and everyday is
feeling the boundaries, finding them, breaking
them, choosing how to proceed,

blood that pulses whispering
promises of dreams forming to
be touched, tasted, cultivated
here is the body, now move with
this color, gently. easily create in
absolute trust as source comes
through, Namelessly.

flooding with hope, with confusion.
sleep. steep. Silence will answer.
every time, in every age. it always has.

but nothing is silent here on earth,
not even the forest at night or outer
space. all that lives, sounds.
then what is silence?

feed. love. create.

transforming the composition of me
to liquid light beaming from eyes, lips
that can light a century, a flame that
burns with no oil, its own source.

draw near. feel me. know me.

do you know who i am?

do i?

ceaseless consciousness. eternity
in form. a dream of the Universe
as i dream it during my days as a
Human.

You are the sum of creation,
You are the push into what is
yet to be formed,
the pregnant oracle.

you know

you flow

spiraling from the deep
mystery, wordless knowing.
following star maps of destiny
wavering on the bliss of eternity

know that whatever it is you want, it can be done.
You create the possibility & steward the vibration
to form. from the mulch of matter comes language
and life. wield the word with love and bless the world
with what you want, with what you give. this is how
you are God.

foundations

i taped pieces of paper together to paint on. then painted over
what i painted; a constant transformation. like life: changing:
re-arranging, the same colors in different forms. the former
images peeking from beneath, a foundation for the future.

an inevitable wanting to move forward, to know how to unbind
from what has been known to a new mode. each moment is a
threshold of decision, to make or break a destiny, a living future;
filled with wonder, filled with the euphoria of possibility. a color is
selected. the skid of a brushstroke. the image alters.

my mind drifted to success. i thought of people who are successful.
i felt that all of them had strong support of their family. emotional,
financial. i wonder how i can create success on my own, seeking
to augment the sense of fragmentation that colored my bringing up.

this is when the animals came flocking to the scene: a bright fire bird
in the sky like a sun. a swan white with a knowing eye steady on me
as i found the horse hiding in the swirls of blue & purple. each with a
message, a memory. the support arriving at the time i was reaching
for it, my absolute refusal to believe my past could hold me away
from that which i am seeking, to raise myself, to break, to transcend.

intention for resolution: identify, release, upgrade. paint on, paint
over, slather, writhe, pop, sigh. becoming. i generate the direction,
being me fearlessly. waiting, fluids, timing. the rhythm of life, the
rhythm of breath. communicating the interior fresh alive, skin inside
out all here in paint, to coalesce matter to being with the strength of
desire.

become.

nectar

covered over last weeks efforts completely. it would have felt bold if i felt more attached to what i painted over. in wondering how to proceed, it seemed to be the only way that made sense after a long moment sitting with the image, facing it eyes closed with hands pressed onto it awaiting a sense of what was next. the feedback was very little; i felt held in mystery. all my movements & decisions thereafter seemed preverbal - pure movement uninitiated by thinking.

new forms emerged from the purple/blue/turquoise swooshes, adding more length along the bottom edge. the energy it takes to create is intense. i painted. i slept for a bit in front of an altar of amethyst & oracles. sporadically fed myself & sipped on guava goddess kombucha. felt myself in an altered state. had a vision of myself in a certain pose - bent on right knee, grabbing ankle with right hand, left leg bent with foot planted on the earth. naked with flexible branches around my waist & a band across my forehead with a few long feathers in my hair. eyes. i told Samadhi of this vision & was excited, wanted to go to the woods after class & take pictures of me doing this. it felt important. she said "wow! well, why don't you paint it too?". and suddenly my lack of skill for bringing the vision perfectly into form hit, but i understood: we're in painting class, i had a vision, it's my job to paint it.

and so it was that i mixed brown with white & a tiny bit of red & green left in the paintbrush. the limbs went spread eagle; i decided to keep it that way & continue. an arm across the belly brought an awareness of how light & shadow define objects of the same color. for the time being, those body parts are merged.

in a dialog with the painting, the figure called herself Rainbow Dancer. when asked why she appeared: "i am pulled & called when someone is asking for help. i am not a body but exist inside bodies. dance in colors. push out things that don't belong there, make the colors as pure as possible". i knew she was speaking of chakras. she has no body but in this painting wanted to have a body like mine, with cinnamon skin and black hair reflecting the colors surrounding it. the huge flower i painted over shows up again over her yoni. a magenta petal drips nectar. she tells me: "flowers have energy. people smell them, want them, appreciate them, they awaken the senses. it draws energy to that area, to show it's a beautiful place, a healing place. it's so good to be juicy!".

i felt so high, slingshot into the cosmos. and i wanted so much to go for a walk, to ground myself in nature. Samadhi agreed & we went to the mountain bike trails at Memorial Park. we enter the trails after 7pm. the daylight was dim and only 3 humans & 3 dogs were encountered the entire hour+ walk. we removed our shoes barefeet on the hard hilly dirt threaded with tree roots & topped with soft silt & leaf litter. we talked among the towering trees, the lowering light. i anticipated walking in the dark and loved feeling my soles touch earth, the contact reminding me what little contact my feet have with her. we came to a huge cedar & hugged her. i pulled up my shirt so i could press my belly & breasts into the bark. we stood there in unison with our bare skin connecting to the tree. it felt so good to be there, to connect with the darkest dark Houston could cull so close to a new moon & prolific street lights.

revelation

a dream of violence. it was as if i was teleported back to childhood, my mother & father in the stairwell of the apartment building we grew up in viciously fighting. my brother was mixed in there somehow, he was getting hurt. i could sense the vibrational atmosphere of my youth: emotional instability, financial difficulty, constant fighting. i had called the police & the dispatcher kept repeating back the wrong information. i was worried the police would go to a different house. i hoped they would arrive during the action, not when everything was already over, when it would seem like it never happened, where i would then be in danger of getting beaten for breaching our private world with other eyes seeing what really happened behind our doors.

i watched from the top of the stairs. saw mom get tossed around, her clothes torn, and they are still fighting; i could feel the energy behind it. my brother makes it out of the fray & to the room we shared with bunk beds. he was trying to complete some homework. he then shared with me that he had a girlfriend at school and he was hiding something from her, hiding his feelings. he created a whole other internet blog to write these feelings in and she found it, was upset about him not sharing with her. i understood the whole situation. i realize then the police never make it to our house.

i emerge from dreamstate (which feels almost like a memory) to a room with heavy stagnant air & a sky so thick with haze it is as though the weather was dreaming with me. i am stunned, remembering old feelings, how i grew up; the trauma & shock of these emotional rages i witnessed & was sometimes the center of. i fold myself over and surrender the images, the feelings, the tightness in my jaw. breathe in & let these tired black sticky feelings release.

to prepare myself for the day, i sound tone all my chakras, drink a coconut water/banana.spinach smoothie, apply khus oil to raise energy. i balance between allowing healing & taking action to ensure i am kept in a space i need to be to live life deeply & fully, lifted, bright.the dream comes right before i am to paint, so i know it is a messenger.

i come before my work. no one else can paint this painting or speak these words. the message:

i MAKE energy, i am a GENERATOR. a Source.

creation is desire, breath, reaching, fluids, timing, waiting.

creation is inevitable.

Creation Is.

as i paint and see images begin to greet me, i try & guess what they are. i ask the painting: "is that a tree?". it responds: "i don't know, is it?". i continue to paint and see that it is a tree. but then, it begins to feel like a mountain. i ask: "is this a mountain?" and after some strokes it becomes the visual to that word. but i feel heat, or maybe the color is a bit ashy. i ask: "is it a volcano?" and minutes later there are cracked lines in it pouring & spurting lava.

i Choose and it Is.

i remember the dream, early life, and breathe deep.
i choose and it is, even at a time it seemed i had no control

in this creation dimension i feel colors, touch them,
laugh with delight, shift shapes around finding
and feeling for the passion, charged up, reveling in
the revelation that i create destiny with each choice,
that if i lack anything, i can always make more & pour
it back into my life, makes shapes & name what i see,
heart-breath-vision-sound solidifying my feelings
wrapped around my thoughts. when the question is:
is this my life, is this my destiny? the answer is already
at the tips of my fingers.

and then, i see it.

source painting scrawlings: second day

i arrived early for painting assistant duties vibrating on a high from days of magic; emotional tidal waves of bliss, love and sensual peace shining through my eyes and working through my hands to set the space in order: water in the cups, floor swept, garbage out, meeting room spiffed, paint bottles shaken, both floors sage-smudged & channeled deep prayers that spun healing intentions into the space itself, touching all participants before their arrival with that intense sensation i held. i was effusive, smiling & motivated to spend a day in visual/spatial dimension.

then it all turned.

this is what happens when paintings need to grow: paper added with tape too sticky strong & ripping or bunching up in odd wads or catching before the pieces are lined up along the edges. needed to cut cardboard working surface with dull scissors for easier swapping of work spaces, moving canvases to make more room to spread. the labor was intensive and help was needed in many directions. a creeping foul feeling began to permeate my mood. i noticed it as a sharp contrast to how i began the day. irritation, frustration rising.

by noon, we had set ourselves in the Angel room to transmit a prayer to the waters of Fukushima, Japan at the behest of Dr. Emoto, who called for a worldwide water blessing on this day at 12pm in every time zone. i fell into this space deeply, felt a strong sensation of giving, sending healing and was pulled out of it by the ringing of a bell.

4 hours went by and i had hardly touched my painting. by the time i made it to my own station, i was reluctant to do anything to it. i saw it wanted to expand but after growing other paintings, it hurt to think of the tediousness of the task. i resisted. i moved some paint across the surface, but it was not at all fulfilling.

and then, i saw it. i saw how i treat myself, the thoughts overlayed upon the canvas of my awake state. that sometimes i give to others & when it's my turn to do for me, i am unmotivated, i lack the energy or will for it. i could clearly see my reactions to the activities of the day had nothing to do with what was happening in front of me. that i was flowing easy like a river, and suddenly hit a dam. it's obvious something is in the way inside, feeling myself strike against this barrier & jamming up my flow of good feelings. this is part of the Source painting process.

and this strange aversion to do for my own picture what i did for others all day could not abide. i looked around & saw everyone so engaged in their work since the cumbersome task of expanding the surface was accomplished. i avoided asking for help to allow them continued involvement with their images. i took my work off the wall & added more space to fill, taping & re-taping to get the bones of the painting as perfect as i could manage. whatever poison may have spit out in thoughts or feelings i consciously halted from feeding off of my attention.

being called for another task, i felt so weak i could not even sit up with my own power, sinking into my left hand as my right hand scribed a dialog process. when it was done, i came before my painting once more & filled the new sheets of paper with bluepurpleturquoise as fast as i could smear, binding it in continuity with the rest of the image.

i lacked energy so deeply i really thought i could die. i went into the Angel room & slept. i remember no sounds, no thoughts. i awoke when someone entered the room. painting time was over. everyone gathered into the room to check in. sitting up, i felt more like i did at the start of class, easily happy, nurtured, bright. that dam felt dismantled, that it took so much energy to do it and now that it was done i flowed again, touched that part of myself that needed help. i cheerfully relayed my day & was so grateful to have had the space to discover & mend this place within myself, grateful for the construct of this class to have brought it to my awareness: to give to myself so that i can give.

even though my painting hasn't reached a certain fullness of expression, i feel ready to dive in day 3 and give it everything i have to give. determined!

joyous blackness, deep evolve

the sun of the afternoon was warm, liquid-like
through the windows. a vision of a light sheath
with two rainbow snakes spiraling around it moving
upward suspended in an unlit space. i questioned
my skills to bring it into being but was happy i had
an image to put to paper.

as i approached the table to select the paint, i was
directed to begin making the black background with
magenta. of course! because black is all colors added
together, complete.

i slathered the paint with my palm, spreading circular
each color, thickening the field from light to dark like
a sunset fading into shades of dusk. each layer kissing
the one beneath, blending beautifully as the tone
deepened to a spiraling dark vortex with a bright center.

the span of the surface. the rippling of the paper. the
waiting to dry. the willingness to endure the process.
breathing is how to get through this, the effort to grace
into effortlessness.

i could feel the strength of the presence as it was
culled, an energy emanating from the paper, a living
being. i wanted to laugh, i could feel her joy, her
delight; to become from the Nothing and form! a
magenta source vortex, joyous blackness, deep evolve.

she lives now, this formlessness. i am the movement
that created her, the spark, the center. i feel those
frequencies and dance the spiral as i push to black,
glide the curves with scissors to cut the triangles off
the corners of her universe and spin into the pulsing
darkness, dive into the single point of light to coax
those chakra serpents from their source and give them
new life.

spitting rainbows

source painting scrawlings: first day

i compose the colors on the palette with ease, because i was
so sure i knew what was going to be painted. fresh squeezey
bottles of paint, shaken up & spewed onto the plastic plate.

a tiger wanted to come, on a background of cobalt blue to
make the red orange POP! black & white stripes! RAWR-shida!
but it all turned beige somehow. maybe beige is what happens
when someone doesn't know how to paint; it's a mix of every
thing. my skin is this same color, portions of orange, lemon,
ivory & onyx. but i never looked to see if it also has violet in it,
or green or turquoise. it is so unified it seems to only be itself,
this beige that masks the elements that create it.

i enjoy blending colors, generating green where i can see the
yellow & the blue in their own vibration, and then where they
extend into eachother to create a song that vibrates a harmony
of their merged essences. and pink. this pink is labial. a singing
pink. she glistens, irrepressibly radiant! she is a pure color,
succulent saturation, especially when wet.

where the paint meets paper i lean in close to hear the brush
against the flat white surface. it is the subtle smooth sound
of moving silence.

painting feels like birthing: deep breaths, holding lower back
and rubbing hips. a powerful part of me emerges. REAL me.
tears on the verge when i hear the message: I WANT HER TO WAKE UP!
the outcome is inevitable but the space between where i am & getting
there seems monumental. Source burrowing through me, eating
away walls, structures. i can't hide. it aches.

i felt the damp heavy drop, my moontime arrived. and it looks so much
like the canvas where all the colors i put mixed to beige-brown with red
streaking this leaking of pigment what was left uncreated inside of me.
a womb abyss shows up in the painting. it has every color in it, spitting
rainbows. the colors communicate, expand, create. an opportunity to

begin again.