Jun 2015

The Expressionist Healer

Expressionist healer

The Expressionist Healer


Something will come, just wait beside the keyboard. Sip your drink and listen to the buzz of a silent, empty room. Your mind half blank and the other half forgot what it was thinking about, because you wandered into accidental meditation. The line where your words are to go, flashes to some rhythm you didn't know you were paying attention to, long after you set your paragraphs to double space. Every night, about the same, you think you will never write again, it was some magic you forgot. Yet, a sentence forms and you type it and another, and another.

You come to this place and trust that it will. That is the invitation. The energy to pull it out of nothing, has to be enough. You get lost right after your fingers move, never knowing how the sentence may end. Is there really such a thing as a block, if it is always this? It is not for me to know, while I'm in the middle and moving with forgotten time. Am I ageless now? This answer comes. I am.

Despite the many thousands, or millions, sitting down to their own sheet of paper, I still feel like I am the only one here, and the only one who can trust enough, for one more word. Simple, yet, the moment before, it felt like it would swallow me up because, there was nothing. The silence spoke is all. That silence that you didn't even hear, just obeyed to pick up pen, or type.

This is sacred, as all scribes to the gods can feel. Never wanting to start yet the reward of a real breath to come at the end of the pages, relief that can be remembered over and over for your next nothing. A poem may come and distract you with thoughts you thought you were going to think, then gone again. You open back up to your something to put down. Just a moment of readiness, nothing more than. Nothing waiting for you, no one to come, only a place. You give yourself a place to be in and that instance takes over. How could one describe it if they never let it? Just a number of pages, that is all. You do a number of pages and the words come.

The brush is the same, for the one with no model. The artist waits to make the first touch onto the board. I think it will be another outcome, as something else makes the picture. My own talent there, my style, but where did it come from? Three more boards to do tonight is all that I say. An expression needs met, and I am the only one that can put it down. Someone's needs could heal because their indescribable experiences are there on board or in a book. Spirits somewhere, it would seem, whispering again. This time, to the viewer. This is how we feel, it says. This is home for just a moment. The viewer smiles or is horrified, then moves on.

Then, back at your page, my page, or board; another day is dazed across my face. I have an expression of hearing something come in. I am just a vessel of the universe, and then I ask it to use me. I feel this world in me as I go, yet feel its own gravity pulling me to stop, then somewhere out there, someone waits, to know I also think this, and the words come. The lines are painted. My open heart is all I need, and all my history that healed it speaks.

As once a wounded healer, I can say:
You do not have to remain wounded to heal anymore. Once having had a wound and discovered, the learning can bring you above it, which definitely heals another. This, expressionist healer, I speak of, can release you from the sickness that can come when evolving higher. You will have the history of once wounded, but no longer having to be inflicted upon. You will feel as surprised as your audience of what will come. It is empowering and mostly playful. Enjoy it if this description helped you find it. Follow along with my other wisdoms and maybe you will eventually find it, and for now, releasing having to be healed. This will be like rising above the pendulum swinging, letting who must ride it, still ride. You can only show the path, you cannot force anyone to look. You, as expressionist healer, will feel less obligation to help if they cannot see yet. You will know it is there to see, and they will see what they can.

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Psychic Sanity

Psychic Sanity

Psychic Sanity


If I was on the edge of chaos, was it really sanity? How close can one go to the mind's last stand and still return? Does it help to be psychic or does that make it worse? I was there. I'm psychic and I think it saved me. I would have to admit, you would not want to be newly psychic and do such a thing, because how would you know? I'm talking, seasoned intuitive here. I know my guiding spirits and teachers and I know when something is not right.

I wouldn't recommend going beyond a normal
tower falling catastrophe though. It was not my plan, it is just a spiritual insurance if you ever have to suffer an edge like that. So, if you have strong gut feelings: get them tuned; get them stronger. You never know just how much you may need them one day and I'm not talk just the don't go down that alley beauty of it.

I was on that edge when I was quite young. I was still connected to all that I was born with, enough, before the
adults cut my flowers. Then I rebuilt it and healed a huge, dark illness, thus having to restore my psychic everything. That was where I found my mind too close three more times. It is because of the level I had to heal my mind from much abuse and scars. When one heals the mind, it can cause madness as it finds what it is supposed to be again. Unlike a leg that doesn't work yet and you build the muscles and try again, then it almost does and you collapse to just use the rest of your body instead; the mind, can't quite go through that when you are trying to rehabilitate it. There is a chance it won't come back.

If you are like me, it is a chance worth taking, because wounds needed mending. For me though, even the
counting on my friends that were always there to tell me the light was red. Those friends (can be called spirit guides), they can really help to meditate on and listen deeply to, before each step of breaking and restarting my mind.

Does it even matter the healing steps, Wester, Eastern, that got me there? I think not, because we all have a destined healing path. What guides you is literally your guides. They are there. Listen in your quiet place. You really know how to heal, how to recover. Your body alone is telling you. It all speaks. Find them and train yourself to keep finding them, then trust yourself.

How many of us ever had trusted ourselves? So many people we have come across, to get us not to, because they didn't, and more likely just wanted an
in to control you. Inside you are the answers to your own trust. Some are raised to know this and others have to take a long path to know. Either way, it is not trivial. It is a strength to build, a needed strength to save your life. So many think it is just a fancy, some little fuzzy wonder to play with. It is the source of what your soul speaks. It is why we are all here, to walk a path our soul wanted to.

Your heart will tell you. Open it, speak with it and you will get there. Listen to that small voice and one day, it will speak loud enough to be the
soul-mate and tell you, “I won't let you fall. Let me heal you too.”

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Back to Nature, A Place for Magic

back to nature

Back to Nature, A Place for Magic

To self-practition nature is an important move to loving yourself. Remembering the child you once were, and the magic that was real in the games you played, is an important first step. Find a corner, a closet, a room, to gather what you collect that the opening inside you will bring. You started into this world with only your mind, not communicating with anything but your soul and the universe, it just came from. This is where life and love still exists. You can share, eventually, once you know how to find the secrets and keep them. You will only share enough to find like-minded. Then, you will both respect that you are going a deep path together. A knowing silence will be an important part of such a relationship.

Gather favorite collections in drawers and shelves around your house. You already have these supplies because you were always a part of your childhood magic, it never left. There is no right or wrong way, nor is there a list of what you need in this. You'll learn what you want to add as you gain this space inside you to hold. The place you started, sit near it for a time regularly. It is best right after a long walk or a bath, something that brought you back to the earth. It could just be five minutes at first and evolve into hours at times. It will make your other life more fulfilling and you will find a strength no one can reach.

Make the storage fun in your little area. The more it feels like it holds secrets, the better. It gathers energy and nature spirits in this. Bring material you like to stare at and touch, velvets, lace, silks, fringe. These help keep those spirits on the lighter side for you. The dark gets confused and entangled in such things. Lay down and stare at your ceiling there. Do you want to decorate that too? Does it take you into dreamy trances? Hang some wind chimes or a big pendant you can spin and catch the light. Pin some strings across for flowers to dry on. Clip other herbs there if you wish. It is all about sitting with that little girl/boy that would do such things once. Do you remember sitting in your room or in your yard, and thinking for a while, then gather things to you? You would collect and talk to the characters you made for this game.

Was there an old dress or shirt you never wore because it meant something but never went with anything or didn't fit? You just couldn't help getting it or keeping it. See if it is to be drapery or for under containers. It could also become pouches to hand stitch or little squares to make sashes. You will know when you bring it to your spot to sit with it. It was speaking to you all this time. This is a time that will remind you of the other little things you've kept and didn't know why. Go gather these now. After a few hours or days of bringing and thinking here, you will want to purchase some more to finish these feelings. You will find this kind of shopping different, yet familiar, like when you followed your parents around in stores thinking 'if I had that.' I will go into this kind of shopping in another article, this is enough of the thinking you need for now.

If you have the energy, take a hike on your favorite path. Bring a bag, or pack, and gather feathers, nuts, sticks, as it is presented to you. You will know it is yours. It will ask you to pick it up like it did when you would trail behind your Mother or Father into nature. They wanted to go home with you once, and they will want to go home with you again. It evolves, your place you made. It is bringing you back to the awareness in every moment again. You will have sometimes only one thing to bring to it, but every one thing says thank you for bringing me your message and thank you for listening in my space. Thank you gives them energy to keep playing with you. Have fun playing with your magic of nature.

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Self Portraits Heal

selfportraitsheal

Self Portraits Heal

It doesn't matter if you are an artist, poet, writer, or none of these. You could have as much creativity as a stagnant puddle of mud. Self-portraits heal. They help you see yourself. They can help you see how the world effects you. I recommend one a week or a month. No one has to see. It can sit there in your drawer, your trash can, or your fireplace. I do a poem and a portrait a week in my weekly blog, but I find time to do little ones here and there, throughout the week too.

Draw it with your weak hand, make a stick man out of clay; it doesn't matter; what it says does. Did you make one of your arms too long? Did you have boobs, are they different then how everyone else sees them? Did you leave the feet off of the page? Yes, there are some psychological drawing books explaining children's drawings. It can be fun to look them up, but not necessary for what I am talking about. I think it is just being aware of what you drew and what you didn't draw and getting it out of your mind, freeing you.

I have a drawing I did when I was the sickest I had ever gotten. That drawing I still have. It shows the sick too, but what is important is, that was the beginning of me getting better. I found out what I was not seeing in myself and it was all over me. I found my sadness of being sick for so long. I found everything and began my journey back to health.

My recent pictures seem to be just of a focused part of me. Maybe because I've been working so hard at healing for two years straight that it is now over focused. It is a good thing though. I'm finding all the little different spots that need my attention. From a broken cage to the way my ribs under my breasts couldn't get drawn right from behind the held up knees, they focused correctly too. I've had buried emotions in my face that I've gotten out and my liver had been overtaxed. A piece of the healing began right on the paper because that image was no longer hidden in my mind. My point of view has to constantly change to take another one out and draw it.

I think, if you ever could show a friend, or more, it goes to another stage. It comforts the viewer. It gives you permission to know that is no longer who you are, even if it was an hour ago. It gives the viewer permission to admit their own flaws so that they too can get rid of them or even better, discover that they are not flaws because everyone has them. Maybe they are a good thing because look there on the picture of my friend, it is beautiful, just like my friend.

Of course, cartooning them are the best. You give yourself permission to laugh at yourself and everyone around you lightens up because they laugh at what they see in themselves too. Do you monster up your cartoon? That is an adorable freight to put a bewildering mask on. Perhaps that one would show the most of all, the hidden we all want to know is okay to be seen. It puts a light on our monster in the closet.

So take out your yellow notepad if that is all you have and your ball point pen, doodle your meeting away with a picture of you. It will be quite refreshing to remember the warrior in your head in the middle of class, once a long time ago, conquering the lessons of the day.

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