Wandering holograms

Visions from this life or another reflect distort and invert perception. We may want freedom from the known but to fathom freedom is begin to remember. To remember is to grieve, then maybe see.

An exquisite corpse of impressions course through our lives, an art work entity, a ghost in the machine, driving the machine, relatively polite until analyzed. We set up shop in the impression careening into the same pattern.

To evolve is an option. As the tree is bent, so grows the branch. What glories come with pruning. A contortion becoming.

You, the one who has contemplated loss are easy to sit with. Integrated insight is exquisite life. To trust, we must become trustworthy. The inside eye reverses carefully. Where the eye sees out, it looks in.

Like an allergy, we crave what is inside of us. Crave it like a poison puzzle. Wanting to solve and expel. Everything with in us that we do not love will become an enemy to us. A loss in translation can become a shared psychosis, activating. Enactments repeat multi-generationally. Be still, slow down, nothing is real, but everything is potentially more than this.

We long to return to the garden. Where everything was magical and treacherous. To be small and dependent. How many generations of brokenness does there have to be before you ask for help with tenderness. Real adult life can be a garden that you may walk into or away from, a place of freedom, fruitful, loving. The tether pull is an old devotion that keeps us children - basked and suspended in the afterglow of melancholy. Convincing others is a reversed devotion - to ward off deep untold grief, and very oral. All themes are mutations of the same thing, until we give up the ghost. The content is old. Developmentally delayed devotions. To no longer seek paradise past, is to become paradise present. We, guilty, wear our tomb stone around our neck: "Here lies my expectation (see I was right)". Eternally repairing and repeating heartache until death. My expectation dovetails with yours so fluidly, dangerously. WHY do you think it's so exciting to meet and greet another solitude? It's not to become a martyr, but to join and transcend.

If you can partner w a friend on this road, Where you stumble, you will find your treasure.

People aren't motivated to grow w/o the growing pains in love. Confusing love with pain conflates this. Die before you die is to die to the obsession of mastering the past (all by yourself). Remember you are half-blind.

Once blinded, know you will be blind again. In order to trust, become trustworthy. Love is the intention behind the intention. Voices from the museum, recite the script. The readymade knows how to make the neptunian mirage beautiful as it hurts. Surrender, and give yourself thee love you need. The pain to receive, is to grieve, but you must. What you grieve is beyond the content. It is being bound in a body which denies.

We all hide behind something, no matter how noble. The veils and blocks are there for a reason, they don't need to be ripped off- rather dissolved. If not, they will come back or be passed on. The unworked past pushes into the present. Do you really want to be alone inside? Die before you die. Imagine. If cultivating love is the only path to enlightenment, then how many of us are lost. Love is the ultimate loss of control. None of us want to be bound, and yet.... so so bound. Listen. Loosen the tourniquet on your heart. Suck the air of XTC. Be still. Do a headstand, like the fool lets the blood of the heart fill the head. Time IS love and love is what is passing. Everything is passing. Take care of yourself. Make your house you're home before you fly away.

CLICK ON EACH BLOG ARCHIVE in the cue, as it will otherwise stop short.
i.e, 2020C'EST COMME CA, The Canyon, Green Waves and a Dot, Space, Nest...


FOR ONLY ART GO TO
ART BLOG: SISSEL KARDEL ART, ILLUSTRATION
http://sisselkardelart.blogspot.com/2012/04/painting.html

12.02.2014

HAIL THE VEIL


HAIL THE VEIL
Hail to the veil of
blindness and sight

 kind mind reveal the path in tangible bites
make the path of dissolution easy and fluid in its fullness


dreamer seer knower lover beloved starry nights
drape your blanket round this dome to admit a smudge of light
a subtle shift is a magnitude and a death in this little life

The evolution of the neocortex and sex are parallel processes
The drive of spirit towards spirit marches on.


moon becoming shadow
 = potentialities

11.24.2014

Pikture book

opposing quotes and a few of my latest favorite images posted by David R and beyond

Robert Frost said poetry is lost in translation.  Someone said that it's in  the translation where the poetry of new forms are born and where creation lives.  If we determine to define ourselves as fixed in identity, country, belief, inaction, we fall prey to rot. If we are too porous anything can come in and anything can fall out.  If rigid, what penetrates- perhaps neurosis - sad! Integrate so no thing is stagnant or succubus. Nothing is with out multiple intersections. Everything is fleeting unfolding potential.  The "watcher" is the constant axis within the whirling. The watcher is the friend.  Consult your own purpose. Trust yourself and become trustworthy.   Black is first light.  Consult the darkness and the light.  Light draws the darkness.  Be not afeared. The flowers are always unfolding. Far more liberating than the phantasmagoria of Black Friday and"choice" is the recognition of belonging to something VAST. Tether yourself to this.
Photo National Geographic:  Orion Space Jewel
"I was a Hidden treasure who longed to be known" -Koran
our bodies are made of stars.
(manet) revealing the veil
AW - love this image.
Increase in bewilderment, wonder- S. Sovatsky says in an increasingly demystified world materialistic interpretation often prevails an anchor to the filament of the web of mortality holding us back from the deep space of whats unknown.  Mirroring our past moving infinitely back instead of forward as we age. Our minds are accumulative machines built for survival and vastly awe inspiring. Yet we, - i  and you regenerate hallucinations from the past more than being innocently open, even naked to the potential awakening of the moment and the face we gaze at.
Now, i will enrich my own weighty materialism and consider another thing of beauty to soften my surroundings and sublimate.
A rug with lovely lines.

8.03.2014

one year

A year ago aug 2 we said goodbye, July 11 she sailed on. January 10th, 1970 she was born, three days after me in the same hospital. We met again 6 years later on the schoolyard.  I've said she was my twin. A year flies by strange without her.  Yet, she is constantly referenced, among those who understand the depth of her impact.  We tasted life with the zesty one, Miss Meredith.  Without her, tears run sweet with the aches of knowing her. Sorrow in missing her constant crack-ups, freaky funny and rare heart. Joy and sorrow together tastes good.  I'm forever humbled and moved to hug the earth when reminded that I am amidst this brief awesome treasure that is always moving, always changing always going always creating. Missing Meredith reminds me I am alive, I'm reminded of her fire and see how sweet and short it all is.  If I think of her fierceness and what she would say, maybe I'll get off my ass and be a little braver, and a little more adventurous. I know she would say and give "kisses" before she hung up the phone.  Luckily, I hold her image as a perfect point of light in my heart.  I carry my Meredith everywhere.  To know someone and be known is how we come to know ourselves. Alhamduillah.  We do nothing and are nothing alone.

7.08.2014

NEVER NOT IMPRESSED



The world is so empty if one thinks only of mountains, rivers and cities; but to know someone here and there who thinks and feels with us, and though distant, is close to us in spirit — this makes the earth for us an inhabited garden. 
- J.W. von Goethe
 the spotted dog i love so

A person begins to know he exists when he finds himself again in others.
- J.W. von Goethe

DAYS EYES

6.20.2014

OH HAPPY DAY

http://www.oldenglishsheepdogclubofamerica.org/articles/CanineReview-OES.php
i would like to have a farm for my cattle dog to have a sheep dog friend and some sheep and or goats to herd. I'd love, then to make wool or cheese or both, then sweaters and blankets, and an expansive view and perhaps some private shady nooks and streams, certainly a barn to paint in, some fruit trees, a vegetable patch, cutting garden, and a wide veranda, and conservatory to view it all, to stretch, rest, reading, drink iced hibiscus tea and tend to my bees.







2.05.2014

Within a dream, adieu PSH.

Within a dream, he was real.
This old poem wont go away, so here it is in its entirety, though id like to edit it. 
(The brief sum of life forbids us the hope of enduring long - Horace)

THEY are not long, the weeping and the laughter,
Love and desire and hate:

I think they have no portion in us after
We pass the gate.
They are not long, the days of wine and roses:
Out of a misty dream
Our path emerges for a while, then closes
Within a dream.
Ernest Dowson

TO PSH,
-with a heavy heart i say good bye to another friend.
I feel heavy with the weight of life's story,
who could predict this, but one who knows.
the prison of the body can not be underestimated especially with such a finely tuned instrument.
maybe now he is free
was this his last time round the track?
His spirit, memory, voice, laughter, face follows me all over my house these few days in dreams & consciousness.
Look how much it took to take him down!
a fortress
a handsome tank
he always reminded me of a boy of 4
with his backpack, freckles, soft strawberry mop, sincere thoughtful
old soul, formidable, real, with that deep laughter, humility, warmth, perspective...you gave us the spot  we all knew in ourselves and made it human and lovable.
Can we love ourselves, our children, each other with the empathy and tenderness you gave your characters?  We could with them, wipe the mirror (a little bit), be brave and look like you did.
I remember your fairness when i was perturbed at my father, you said you are taking away his role to be a dad, let him give his advise.  You advised me to "marry" a normal guy- avoid all actors, rockstars and athletes! Mostly we talked about art, life and human nature.   His favorite painting, Quest Over is here, with new meaning.
Teacher, friend, artist, creator, father...
Your life was propelled by "the same engine", as you said, i could apply it where i chose, not in just one place. That same engine is what gave us YOU in life, and in death.
When people say,"what a waste of talent, i can not concur.  He wasted nothing, burned twice as bright, as he loved it all and gave it all.  My heart goes out to his family, wishing peace to their hearts.

RIP, Phil.  I love you and thank you for your friendship.
Fondly, forever.

"Quest Over"