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

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.