Artist's Process Part Three

Returning here, contemplating, listening,

An identity that is an unnatural boundary

Observing actions arising from natural tendencies

I tool intention. Joy is its flowing occurring.

Then no more and learning to trust still wholeness

Whatever is when there is no doing.

That it was good and of my nature in action building trust

And building trust for the stopping when returning

back from being absorbed in daily needs.

There is then only the undercurrent combined with the memory,

And years later, images expressed,

In the hall walking toward my quiet space,

I walk by powerful reminders.

Back to the artist, his custodian walks back,

For this the boundary contemplates, sorts out thoughts,

Then just a feather edge of wholeness, clarity, filling,

I know what I want to feel myself do,

Art is seeing. I want to see.

What, I leave to what needs to be shown that words cannot.

As a shadow, sitting in waiting, or dancing to express the body,

acknowledging there is no planning, logic or predetermination

unless one wishes to travel to space,

and then astronauts  deliberate on having an existential experience.

I can work tirelessly, patiently, possibly some arrive to those few glimpses,

But can have it right now, I am the boundary,

I am always here, even when facing a cockpit window.

If that happens, or with any external influence,

I shall use it as a bridge, to deepen beyond, further than a feather edge,

Until I am able to dive completely and disappear, or appear.

I serve my courage with images from my journey,

I can gently stare, see, allow imagination to fascinate me,

The more I relax, the more I am whatever I see,

Except there is a visceral sense of expansion.

I could use a flame or a flower, but my nature is to seek, search,

I explore, I am thrilled this way,

I am my minds friend, I do not trick myself, I relinquish myself in discovery.

My mind searched through events, planning and logic,

But it was only expressing my nature to explore, witness, see.

We must all have a nature, and I am grateful mine is not to think,

It is to feel. Thinking to arrive at circumstances that provide

Time and resources, personal space.

So I can use my mind in daily life

and there is a time to stop, witness,

Do, using skills in mind, patterns in body to express from my life.

The preposition I hold is that there is infinite happening at this moment,

So it must be possible that I am witnessing far away events,

Messages from the deep, my own deeper intelligence,

Memories of the past, events stored genetically.

How does a fish recognize a predator?

There is a picture of that other creature imprinted somewhere in the gene,

There is a scent of love, trust, resolve, laughter,

We know already, recognize expressions in context of each individual sense,

Besides, is it possible I am recording an unfolding somewhere else?

It is possible. Infinite events. Use your imagination, play.

Infinite events, it is possible. To bring something here,

But the truth is that all of this is going to end,

The humility to recognize oneself in the fascination and painting,

Because nothing will take that away.

While having so much to enjoy, blow my mind, as a reminder

Reminder during the workday, when eyes closed, during breathing,

Maintaining grasp of this space, its independent visceral sense of flow,

The kinder decisions made, discernment and highest principles in actions,

creativity entering tasks, keeping mouth shut, or making hay while the sun shines.

Not decidedly lax, or too rigid. Self based more in the sincerity of the timing,

And then lost in the fray,

Then the time, space, dance, painting, music, complete silence.

Reflection, fascination in seeing. All of these bridges await ‘I’.