I cannot stop painting this wall
Feeding on the colors
Trying desperately to describe it all as it unfolds to me...
What is the shape of beauty?
The contours of Consciousness?
The texture of God?
What stroke feels like Oneness?
Like Discovery?
Like Remembrance?
Exploding like flowers in time-lapse I put myself into it...
My eyes, my lips, my soul...
And it is me
And you
And All Creation...
And the Wall paints itself.
~ I wrote this poem back in India in 2003. It flowed out of me in the deserts of Rajasthan while doing my best to assimilate all the transformation and magic taking place in my world. It was all changing so fast - my outlook, my vision, all of existence it seemed.
My writing sped up then...as I felt the inspiration coming so quickly, it felt like a wall I was madly trying to paint, but couldn't keep up with...All this inspiration, insight, wisdom...and yet finally I let it wash over me...it was not all mine to do - - the Wall paints itself.
Likewise, I am discovering, Life unfolds itself miraculously with or without our "help" or prodding, though sometimes we are prodded to say something, go somewhere, express a certain sentiment in artistic expression or to share with others in one way or another. Sometimes we are inspired to do - what feels like "more"...even though, the "more" I recognize the wholeness and the vastness of it all, the "more" difficult it is for me to believe there is really more...or less....just the ever unfolding awareness that we each experience of the Allness.
Sometimes - life feels miraculous. And when it doesn't, often we miss it and strive to "get it back" feeling bored or "disconnected" somehow with what we considered a "greater time" or a "more magical existence." But life is always expressing poetically...in every seemingly "mundane" moment. It is up to us whether we can interpret it as such...or whether we think we need the measurably "epic" to occur repeatedly in order to feel "highly connected."
...walk this way with me...
Pulling the soft white folded tissue from the perfectly painted cubical I heard that magical sound that happens ever so perfectly every time...the tissue has left the box in tact! What a perfect sound. How do they get it to make that sound every time? And with such precision?
The feel of my hand around a mug of hot tea or coffee (take your pick)...the warmth of the glass, the aroma...the steam that touches my face on the first few sips and the way it feels in my mouth, my throat...the liquid against my tongue.
I see myself again there, in the mirror, like I do every day when I walk by this place...but today, this moment, I pause. I pause to see myself anew...as if this was the first time seeing me there, like this. Notice her eyes, the shape of her nose, the way her lips come together just so...the colors she's wearing...yes it is just a flat, reflected image - I think - nothing, most certainly like the REAL thing standing here...oh yes, that's ME!... the embodiment of me anyway...the form taken in this here now. Running a finger down my arm, touching fingertips together and then to my heart I recognize the ever beating sensation of something rhythmic in there.
The sounds.
The smells.
The textures.
The tastes....The way it looks outside...
Beyond all of this...beyond the senses with which I am aware .... there is another magical space I perhaps touch less often...one that is behind the scenes, always revealing the mystery to me, whether I notice it or not. I imagine my 7 month old lives largely in this space...
Closing my eyes just now I see the darkened place behind my eyelids...the place Indians call "Brumadhya"... and as I exhale....inhale....exhale...inhale... I allow my awareness to tune into the "nothingness"...the place from which all amazement springs. And I notice, that from the nothing comes the everything...
Taking me back once again to the idea that any time could ever be "not the time"...the "down time"...it's laughable really. How can this moment, the one we are in now, EVER NOT be IT?
I know, it feels really good to feel great, to feel like you are on it, like life is "happening"...but it is always so. What if it were all reverse of what we think it is? What if the highs were the lows and the lows the highs? What if the 'down times' were the ones we really wanted and not the reverse? What if in THEM were the secrets to existence?...and the "high" moments were just the after-math of the beauty...seeming to play out, like exhaust from a vehicle....?
I look at the struggles of my children.. the effort it takes to succeed in the 'crawl' or the 'word' or the 'writing'....and it is all one moment - - the culmination of many smaller, struggling moments...for that moment when the 'first get it' ,,,,will never again repeat for that one thing. There will never again be the first tooth....which seemed to happen in an instant, even though the days and nights of crying and discomfort brought it to be. The first time one 'rolls over' will never happen again...not the first time. And yet, it took so much effort, and "failure" and "not rolling over" to get it to be. For the miracle to occur. That first time we learn to spell a word - the seeming epiphany! Even though we have been laying the ground work for this realization for so long... What if we could look at all our moments like this. As a child evolving?
What if in all the moments we think we are "failing", "not succeeding", "not producing", "not getting anything done", "going backwards", "feeling disconnected"....what if in all of these moments...this is really IT?.... these are the times we ARE doing it?!
I watched a video I made once earlier in the year when I was deeply depressed...it seemed like a particularly 'low' time in my existence. I am even surprised I recorded it. I remember "making" myself do it...like I knew it would be good somehow. As I watched, I didn't see the depression...I heard it in my explanation, but I saw something very different. I heard wisdom, and I saw strength...I heard insights that were powerful...maybe more so than I experience in the "highs" of other more "normal" days.... I admired her - me then. I was grateful. I wanted to be her.
In case you are curious - here is that video:
...The crinkled napkin crumpled in such a way, poised still from it's opportunity to wipe up the mess you made...the empty mug with wilted tea bag stuck to the side and the pit pulled clean from the plum that once encased it...ready for disposal at any moment one sees fit to "clean up the mess"...
...chairs pulled from the table at random and non-linear, non-patterned positions, sitting this way and that after holding the bottom of breakfast eaters who chose not to return them to their "tucked in" positions...
The rumbling sound of a loud car engine outside my window...muffling the sound of the waterfall I so often prefer...but in this now - - listening to how it could compliment the trickling with it's base notes, pumping ever so deeply in the foreground of my morning...
The child sleeps...and in his absence I see not his smiles of laughter and curiosity...but these things...and in every moment I choose to touch the divine.
I know it is said that if we do not give praise for what we have, how are we expected to be given more? yes. I understand. For if we cannot know the splendor of the abundance in which we now sit...though the form might be disguised as a peasant in it's offering, it is Royalty wondering if we can see it there. For only those who have eyes to see will be shown the picture further. Only the visionary will know the temple before it is built...and see the plenty in the barren field.
So too...I challenge to see the amaze in the mundane....
And with this I close my blog today - - inviting you to see with me - - the Poetry in life's "Insignificant" moments....
Water falls off my tired limbs after the restless morning of sweaty walks and chasing the infant around kitchen floors dotted with drool and plastic lids. Ah...a moment to myself to wash the night with its frequent waking to let out a droopy nipple yet again, to the babe cutting a second tooth, whining in the darkness. The soap runs over me in lines which smell of grapefruit and green apples as I let the suds cover my eyes and take me momentarily into secret places where the desert world outside my door does not travel. Gazing down at toenails cracked with turquoise left from brothers wedding, weeks and weeks ago I plant the seed of their renewal in the back of my mind while I feel the soft mat lined with floor-sticking ability catch my exit from the misty stall...fresh and clean and tall I stand with eyes peering toward the foggy reflection set before me in the room meant just for this. The shower is a cosmic kiss...blessing me with such as this.
Mmmmm good morning.!!
May you find Bliss in your House today - as I find it in mine! All day...and all the time. xoxo
~Love
Stasia Bliss
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