It's been said that all of form is simply a play of consciousness. And that, since "form" includes you, everything is a reflection, a manifestation or extension, of you. That every conversation you have is consciousness speaking with Itself. And that because the natural movement of this play is to experience other and then return to the one, every experience is fertile ground for Realization.
So, basically, you've written this blog for you. Enjoy.
Another thing that's been said, of the very many Things That Have Been Said, is that the devil is in the details.
I've been stuck on drawing bats, lately. Some of you have seen the drawing (see Exhibit A.) that started this latest obsession.
I was telling my partner this morning about the little bats I was drawing last night (see Exhibit B., at the top) and how after I was done and stepped away from them, I realized I couldn't see them. I mean - I could see them, but I couldn't seeeee them... (See vague, def.)
It's partially because my job requires me to look deeply into the gaping maw of a computer screen and make sweet love to spreadsheets all day long, and I'm in the autumn of my years, but mostly because I chose the tiniest pen tip possible and had my face 4 inches from the paper to draw them. (My favorite pens: Sakura Micron size 005 and size 01. I must have been a Tibetan monk in a past life.)
So I was saying "blah blah, I love this teeny tiny tipped pen - love to draw tiny details blurpdy blurp, I realized the small pen tip makes me do teeny drawings blah blah giggle fart bloo-dee bloo face is 2 inches away from the page doodly doo maybe gotta draw with a bigger pen ho-dee-ho blah blah blah."
And then HE says, he says to me - he says: "What you're really doing is much broader."
And I go, "Is it?" feeling the little tip of the iceberg through my own fog, but needing more clues.
And he goes "Well, you're thinking, 'If I draw these really small, maybe nobody will notice....and then maybe nobody will notice me.'"
I see. Smartass.
First of all. What the hell?! How dare he be paying attention!
Second of all, I just proved his point, didn't I.
Third of all, if A plus B equals C, then this whole thing is just my devil returning to love. In other words, I've outed myself to me. Thank you, Micron 005.
Because - HAVE YOU HEARD??? - the number one cause of death is someone not liking you.
The number two cause is not doing something perfectly the first time. WATCH OUT. IT IS A VERY DANGEROUS WORLD FOR FLESHY THINGS.
It's been a very annoying theme for a very annoying number of years, and, yes, I realize I'm magnifying a very small example, I made some stupid little drawings, for chrissakes.
But it feels significant. Or, at least, rich. I had stopped doing anything artistic for almost 2 decades, and the longer I went without making stuff, the more afraid I got of sucking when I got back into it.
David Bowie's death hit me deeply (and unexpectedly so), and remembering his brilliance in life and in his (ingeniously artistic) death, not to mention watching a never to be disclosed number of his interviews, sparked the desire to just... get it out.
Whatever it is. Make mistakes. Not be good at things immediately. Do stuff because *I* like it. Stop being willing to sacrifice vulnerability for safety. (Bowie has said his 80's period is the most embarrassing because he felt like he was creating according to what he thought people would like, not according to his own true tastes. I'm not sure if this explains Labyrinth ~shudder~ )
So, obviously, I've still got one leg and most of my upper body in the closet, but, baby steps.
And with David Bowie as my spirit animal, I'll be exchanging the devil for an eye patch - a funky, funky eye patch - in no time: