January:: Rilke

2.5.18

And finally, the last piece in the Rilke series, Wood Duck, Right in to Live

 

1.28.18

I am in love with the interweaving of motifs and colors from one piece to the next, incredibly exciting.
She is the last of this series, Left Out to Die . . . feels as though this is now the end of the red madonna cycle and chapter for me. Finished and moving with light and wholeheartedness into clear, open space, grounded in my own rythym, this is the release.
Right in right in, light lives in nurus sammawati wal arz, giving closure to Green Castle with luminosity during the vivid yellow star wave spilling Nur into beautiful creation.

1.24.18 White Crystal Worldbridger

Finding a rythym with the initiation of being left out to die . . ..what does it mean, to be left out? to die? left out. right in. rythym is a dancer, or a woman walking the wilderness of her soul, carrying her child through the darkness, she must find her way, or they’ll be left there to die on the mountains of the heart . .. blossoms, brave blossoms brighten as courage blooms out there in teh dark wilderness . . . I know not what Rilke wove into his poem, its ‘meaning’, but this is the art that it moved from my heart, feeling hearty and curious as to the way I’m painting, echoing colors and motifs from one to the other, connecting . . . there’s something suddenly simple, yet feels powerful, sailing within . . . an energy in motion . . .

1.17.18 Blue Overtone Storm

Painting out of Rilke’s “Left Out To Die” . . . from underwater swimming to up in the sky, blossoms sigh, spiral weaves yin and yan, luminous offering . . .

1.12.18 White Cosmic Wizard

Painting from the book. Begin with the top one on the stack:: Selected Poems of Rainer Maria Rilke A Translation from the German and Commentary by Robert Bly, page 165, “Left Out to Die”.

Mountains of the heart . . . underwater diving, the person of consciousness wakes up from the deep sea of emotion, bubbles sing balance balance balance, where is your balance strung out to dry on the cold peaks reaching for the sky, swim toward interior warmth, here the mountains have bubbled below and cooled down under water, not underground, ignorant pearls to be found, how tiny it is yet how distorted the view with watery eyes . . . staying there whole tumbled from shell onto a dumb distant ocean floor, not cared for here this granary unfelt . . . wet stone under the hands . . . .

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