The other day I found myself back in the womb.  It was an exciting experience although not for the reasons you may assume.  Our mother was wholly obliging and I was not the only one so entrenched.

A Tale of Two Beautiful Days

On the 18^th of May, I took an impulsive trip to Hartford, Connecticut.  In order to get there from my home in Pawtucket, Rhode Island I needed to take a circuitous route through Massachusetts since there is no road resembling a straight line between the two.  Which is how I found myself on Route 146 northward bound toward the Massachusetts Turnpike, only to head back south further west to Hartford.

It was a wonderfully bright, sunny and warm day, even at 7:30 in the morning when I departed my mill home.  This in itself has been a rare occurrence so far here in Southern New England this year.  About 15 minutes over the border between the two states I came upon a sign:  Exit 6 Purgatory Chasm.  The sign had other words on it but I did not see them.  I only saw the enigmatic name of Purgatory Chasm.  Promptly, I pulled out my phone, thumbed up the voice recorder and made note of this enticing and mysterious location.

Five days later, on another beautiful, warm and sunny day I set out late morning for this chasm that was beckoning to me.  Why would a chasm beckon to someone?  When you are one of Earth’s lovers, a frequenter of deep forests and a climber of rock, the word chasm strikes a strangely pleasurable sensation up and down your spine causing goosebumps on your forearms and tingles in places I’d rather not mention.

In thirty minutes I was there, eleven miles over the border in an area of central Massachusetts known as Sutton.  Under the auspices of the state’s Department of Conservation and Recreation, the area is known officially as Purgatory Chasm State Reservation.  It totals about 100 acres, although the actual chasm is only about a quarter mile long.

The Giant Gash

The Chasm is now thought to have its origin in the sudden release of dammed-up glacial meltwater near the end of the last Ice Age, approximately 14,000 years ago.  Long ago its origins were thought to be of a much different nature – even before it was thought to be due to the force of an earthquake.  More on that in bit.

Carved out of granite, the walls at times reach 70 feet high.  Within this giant gash-in-the-land, you find huge boulders in various states of having been shattered and strewn by the force of that water.  I had a distinct feeling that should an earthquake hit the area, this chasm and the ledges above would not be a good place to be standing!

Disregarding that feeling, the majesty of the sheer size of the rock and the pieces of rock were humbling.  No, this is no Grand Canyon, but rather, a more sacred and at-home-like sanctuary.  Everything is so close to you.  Listening, the voices of past visitors seemed present in the cool air (when the voices of the present visitors – of which there were a fair amount – were not heard).  You get the feeling of almost being entombed.

Everywhere you look and touch there are stories of impressive energy.  You can trace and map where rock has cleaved from other rock.  You can look up and watch how one boulder dislodged from a portion of the wall or ledge above.  And most intimidating, you can envision where the next piece of rock will fall from and where it will land.

I was more intent on exploring, so these few pictures I’ve taken with my phone do not do justice to the true experience.

The Name

I spent about four hours there, walking the perimeter of the chasm ledge (which was wide at one end and narrow at the other) and through the depths of the slashed earth one way and then the other.  Each pass taking numerous routes up and down the boulders and cracks and crevasses, from floor to ledge and from ledge to floor.  In and out of the chasm.

Time passes without notice when you are both concentrating on where to next place your feet and hands as well as soaking in the vibration of the energy put out by Mother Earth in this most holy of spots.  You stop and look, planning out the next route, determining whether or not you think you can do it.  You notice your breath and you notice the quick burst of energy needed here at some points, and the steady, balanced placements of your body at others.

Yet, there was still time to ponder the most obvious, and seemingly basic of questions one has when visiting this magical spot:  Why is it called Purgatory Chasm?

I more or less immediately deduced the answer and found myself confirmed at every point of reference.  However, I wanted to see if I was right – if others thought as I did, or if perhaps I am just a deranged and perverted man.  Could I be the only one to feel that this chasm, this giant chasm, was vaginal in its symbolism?

And if so, why is it called Purgatory Chasm?

The Meaning

First off, let’s get something out of the way.  The meaning of the name of this natural chasm in the Earth is lost.  Furthermore, there are two Purgatory Chasms in Southern New England.  The second one is in Middletown, Rhode Island.  It is significantly less impressive (although not lacking in beauty) as one 10 foot wide by 50 foot long glacial cleft along the ocean that allows seawater to flow through.

The folklore attached to this particular Rhode Island chasm (or as I’d rather put it – singular cleft) is one of a Native American Devil named Hobomoko.  It seems a beautiful native woman was attacked by a white settler nearby.  After crying out for help to no avail, she could not stop his unwanted advances so she fought back and killed him.  Hobomoko, enraged and giddy over this act, drug her to this spot along the coast, creating devil’s footprints along the way, and swung his tomahawk down upon her taking both her head and her life in one mighty swoop.  A swoop so mighty that it left this slit in the rock for all eternity.

Or something like that, there are several versions.  I did find one reference to this Hobomoko legend attached to the chasm in Massachusetts, but I believe it to be in error.  It seems the Rhode Island tomahawk story has more references and quite frankly makes more sense.  There are many clefts in the Massachusetts chasm area and the main chasm itself does not look like a clean tomahawk swipe.  Regardless, the story was probably made up to convince the natives that they needed to abandon their heretical beliefs and convert to Christianity anyway.

So if the reason this particular area is named Purgatory Chasm remains unknown, then its meaning is fair game to the speculative.  Like me.

Not Phallic, but……

Purgatory is defined as a state after death where a soul goes to purify itself through the punishment it is due for its sins.  The soul is not damned to eternal hell, it is merely temporarily suffering so it can achieve holiness as to enter heaven.  Kind of like being spanked and told to sit in the corner for a while before dinner – or sent to bed without dinner (after being spanked of course).  The term is from Roman Catholic doctrine but has been in use since the 12^th century.  So the early, shall we say, puritanical settlers were well aware of the concept of Purgatory.

A chasm is a deep fissure in the earth, rock or another surface.  It could also be a deep rift, or a profound difference between people, viewpoints or feelings.  I think we’ll be safe going with the former definition, however, I think a double entendre in the name may lead one to include the latter definition as well.

If you spend any time out in nature, on this living being we call home, surrounded by life, you will find yourself anthropomorphizing.  That is you will find yourself giving human characteristics to non-human beings or things.  It’s a perfectly natural thing to do.

You will see human figures, faces and body parts in trees and rocks.  You will see them in leaves, and the shadows the leaves cast.  You will see them in the way a tree or tree limb has fallen or the way rocks have tumbled together.  They are everywhere.  They are the genesis of all our stories of ghosts and goblins in the woods.

And, if you really do spend a lot of time out in the woods, you will most definitely begin to notice how many things seem to look like human genitalia.  In fact, you may see it so often, you dismiss it.  But how do you suppose the term phallic even came about (phallus being Greek for penis)?  There are many things in nature that look like penises.  Everyone has seen two massive trees growing out of the ground together like giant legs with another smaller, thinner tree growing out between them!

There are also many things in nature that are vaginal – or look like vaginas.  Ever see a particular shape to a hole in a tree?  Ever see a particular shape to a crack in a big rock? Ever see a giant chasm in the ground which if viewed in the winter or from slightly above would clearly show a slotted opening with apparent lips around it that doesn’t resemble a mouth?

Get off exit 6 from Route 146 in Sutton, MA and I’ll show you one.

A New Legend

So as I navigated myself through this chasm in purgatory, and I found rock outcroppings with signs that declared their names to be Devil’s Corn Crib, Devil’s Pulpit, Devil’s Coffin, Lover’s Leap and a singular cleft named Fat Man’s Misery all within a geological formation known as Purgatory Chasm, I came upon my own story for how this particularly vaginal rock formation found its name.

I believe the natives held this particular area to be very sacred.  I’m sure each set of tribes had their own particular name for it, which if I started asking around local tribes I might uncover the most recent.  Whatever the native-language name may have been when the settlers first arrived here, I feel the name would have meant something like this:  Entrance to the Womb of the Mother.  Ancient traditions throughout the world represented the Earth as a womb, and as female or the mother.  This name would not be out of line.

So what happened when these early settlers discovered the native-given name of this place, experienced the similarities and symbolism themselves, and had to reconcile that with their dogmatic religion they fled the old world to practice without persecution?

No doubt they word purgatory did not come to mind first!  Given the long-standing formation references to the devil, I’m sure it may have first been referred to as Devil’s Chasm, or The Chasm of Hell, or Hell’s Gate.

Back then (okay – even now still), other than to procreate, sex was viewed as sinful and not to be discussed.  I’ll bet women and children may have even been forbidden to go to this sinful place.  Only the men had that privilege (under the guise that it was for their safety – the rocks being too dangerous for women and children).

Besides, women were not thought very highly of to begin with – in this patriarchal society (think Salem and witches).  Anything that resembled a woman’s – well you know what – would be inherently evil and dirty and shameful.  The work of the devil for certain.

But somehow the name became Purgatory Chasm.  Why?  Perhaps after visiting often enough, over time, men began to realize that something so beautiful and awe-inspiring, could not have been the work of the devil.  Only God himself could create something so majestic!  So maybe The Chasm of Hell was a bit too harsh.

If God did create it, why did he choose to make it resemble a woman’s – well you know what – so closely?  Well……sex and a woman’s – you know what – are dirty and sinful, all humans are inherently sinful, but yet a man must have a family.  The deed must be done (and it was a rather pleasurable task at that).  Perhaps this spot represented both pleasure and suffering.  If a man must sin and have intercourse, then as a sinner he cannot go to heaven.  But it cannot be an eternal damnable sin, a man had to reproduce.

Ahh, it could be a place of purgatory.  A place where the suffering and the pleasure that caused the suffering could be reconciled.  Perhaps even made holy.  Okay, maybe they didn’t go that far!

Go Rejoice

So anyway, that’s my story and I’m sticking with it.  Whether you believe it or not doesn’t matter.  You will never visit the place and not think of my version of the legend, I can guarantee that.

If you do visit, just inside the beginning of the chasm, after you have already handled a few of the smaller boulders, you will find this plaque on your left.

However, before you reach that plaque, chiseled into a one of the smaller boulders is this engraving.

As you can see it says, in an older-style lettering that was obviously not chiseled by an accomplished craftsman, GA FRYDER.  At first, I thought the GA referred to Georgia and I snapped the picture with the idea of sharing it with my friends in Savannah – from where I recently moved.  But upon closer look, it didn’t seem to make any sense.  So I forgot about it until I got home and began to do some research.

What I discovered was that these two words in Norwegian mean GO REJOICE.  The pronunciation sounds like GAH-FREE-DIT.  Now there weren’t a whole lot of Norwegian colonial settlers in Southern New England; but this typeface, and its obvious aging do seem to indicate that it is old.  If this engraving is from that era, then either this person really enjoyed the beauty and majesty of nature, or – even in the 17^th and 18^th centuries, Norwegians had a much different point-of-view on women and sex.  One that may have created a chasm between them and their European neighbors!

Take care and seek peace my friends,

Vince

__________________________________________

Unless otherwise indicated, all images are copyright vincegreen111058.

www.artbyvincegreen.com

It is so hard to capture light in an image at times. It is not really the light you try to capture, but the feeling the light shares with you. This morning was one of those times. The image does not do justice to the feeling, perhaps the poem will? How do you feel at times like this?

April 2, 2016

Did I Mention?

With curtains drawn

Night’s sleep goes on

With shower done

There’s still no sun.

 

Saturday morning

Coffee brewing

Silence fills the room

Air hangs in gloom.

 

Yet joy is found

In expectation bound

Rug holds scattered mess

Spilt trays do not confess.

 

Care seeks shadows

Smiles seek mirrors

Smile hides on corners

Cares find drawers.

 

Everything is nothing

Nothing is nothing

Saturday morning

Is everything.

 

Yet words still cannot convey the quality of the air

Or the stretched out swishes of the tires.

 

Did I mention it’s raining outside?

Light is taking a long time to announce day.

 

I woke up thinking of how precious life was when

This day meant cartoons in pajamas.

 

Did I mention I have brothers and sisters?

Time passes slow some time.

 

The moments move as if each one does not wish

To turn into the next for fear…

 

Did I mention I don’t have television?

The cartoons will never be as good anyway.

 

Better yet I have a road outside where sound fills silence

And silence fills words and words fill thought.

 

Did I mention…

 

The air’s heavy

The light’s squinty

The day hasn’t decided yet

Whether or not to turn off the tv set.

 

Empty cereal bowls

Like elbows on pillows

Chins in hands

Minds in faraway lands,

 

Reflections on lenses

Heightened senses

Orchestral music

Even some Sousa,

 

Laughter and giggles

Squirming and wriggles

Arms under legs

Bellies full of ham and green eggs,

 

Sisters twisting brothers

Brothers tangling sisters

Saturday morning cartoons

Half-filled bowls with milky spoons.

 

Did I mention day is not coming this morning?

It’s Saturday.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Take care and seek peace my friends,

Vince

__________________________________________

Unless otherwise indicated, all text and images are copyright vincegreen111058.

www.artbyvincegreen.com

Second Day of Spring

I am pleasantly greeted

By a window

Full of dancing snowflakes.

Performing

Against a backdrop of red brick

Belonging to a 150 year old fabric mill.

Steam flowing from the chimneys.

The muted sky in full storm mode.

No fabric being made.

Yet industry moves on.

I move on as well.

Looks like a perfect day to paint.

Enjoying the dance,

Both inside and out.

by vincegreen

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Take care and seek peace my friends,

Vince

__________________________________________

Unless otherwise indicated, all text and images are copyright vincegreen111058.

www.artbyvincegreen.com

It’s the 11^th of December, 2015 and I am living in Savannah, Georgia hand-delivering a termination-of-lease letter to my landlord. I am moving west, somewhere in Southern California I believe. I don’t know where yet. But I do know I must move to where it is warmer.

It’s the 11^th of January, 2016 and I am being guided to go to Massachusetts by a psychic artist living in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. I don’t know why yet. But I do know I don’t believe the guidance.

It’s the 11^th of February and I am already moved into Dartmouth, Massachusetts and am signing my name to a contract to spend the next year just over the border in an artist’s studio in Pawtucket, Rhode Island. I don’t know how yet. But I do know I’m a few blocks from Providence (Rhode Island) and I’ll take that.

It’s the 11^th of March and I am reading an email telling me about a service called Cell 411 that will eliminate the need to rely on those who say they are there to protect me. I don’t know who will yet. But I have complete trust.

So what in the world is going to happen on the 11^th of April? I don’t know yet. But I do know it doesn’t matter, whatever it is – will be exactly what needs to happen.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I also know that my body and my mind are in severe need of some rest. Following the voice of your soul is never easy. Listening to the voices is always traumatic in some way. If you haven’t read my last essay, which is actually Part 1 to this story, I recommend you do so here. If you are one who does follow your intuition more often than not, then you know what I mean. Soul work is physically and emotionally draining.

But it always works for the best in the end.

I have been paying attention to my gut all my life, at times and especially at first, without even realizing it. I’ve come to realize every pivotal point in my life has pivoted on a choice. A decision I wasn’t certain about making. I just knew I HAD to make it.

• For instance, I wrote a letter to my parents when I was 17 telling them I could not follow their faith any longer. I can’t remember exactly what I wrote, but I do know that it hurt them. Our family was, and is, very strong in the Roman Catholic faith. Even though I then spent many years as an agnostic, this decision was the first real step I took along my own spiritual path. My first step toward an inner self-reliance. At the time, I had no idea. I just knew that what I was experiencing in the church did not feel right. It upset my whole being in some way.
• My two sons, Ryan and Devin, exist as who they are because I made a decision to ask a certain pretty girl who worked for me out on a date. And then, when Stacey Lynn Garland told me she was pregnant, I had no second thoughts about the fact that we should be married. In fact I didn’t even have the first thought about it – I just knew this is what was to be. There was no question. So we eloped, once again causing anguish and uncertainty among my family and to some extent hers.
• The same knowing was present when I came to the decision that the marriage had to end 19 years later. However, the actual knowing came years before and the pain of my inability to act, in any way, was inflicted upon everyone involved.

There are other examples, but I think you get the point. Following the voice of your soul, the guidance of your inner self in not easy; is not understandable; and it will eat away at you until you do that one thing. The one thing you know you must do. Act. Take the action.

But how do you really know that it is your inner self, your soul, your God speaking to you?

That is the question is it not?

There is no one answer either. It is different for each person and it is something that takes practice noticing. One of my greatest teachers when it comes to listening to the voices has been Sonia Choquette. I have an old cassette (yes!) course of hers put out at the time by Nightingale Conant. It’s based on her book Your Psychic Pathway. I refer back to it when I find my focus or resolve to wane.

One important distinction to be made:  When I use the words ‘hear’ or ‘listening’ in reference to your intuition (voice of your soul, inner self, higher self, God, the divine, etc.) I am not specifically referring to an auditory experience. Communications from that which we call God come in many different forms and can be accessed in many different ways. There is no one way and there is no right way. There is also no wrong way. There are many ways people access their higher self that are similar to how other people have the experience, but it is uniquely personal and individual.

There are four steps that I follow (thank you Sonia) in my process of listening to the voice of my soul. They are:

1. Be OPEN to who I am
2. EXPECT to hear the voice of my soul
3. TRUST the voice of my soul
4. ACT upon what I hear

Here is how this process unfolded for me over the past couple of months and explains how I ended up in the cold of New England and not some warm and sunny Pacific beach a few thousand miles away.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

So about six months into my new career as an artist, I started to have nagging feelings that I need to make yet another major change in my life. The feeling began as a thought here and there. Then the thought began to develop followers. I arrived in Savannah in October of 2013 because I followed my intuition.  There wasn’t just one, there had been a whole series of messages – pivot points – and choices that led me to some major life changes.

I choose to leave and divorce my wife of 19 years.

I decide I need to move away from the area I have lived in my whole life and put my house up for sale. (But the Universe has other plans for me first)

I ‘allow’ myself to physically and emotionally fall apart:  Alcohol addiction, serious weight gain, depression, lack of purpose, acute pancreatitis, and neuropathy.

I donate one of my kidneys to my sister Michele. (Which allowed me to repair my out-of-shape body)

I hit alcoholic rock-bottom:  My pancreas begins to shut down and I place myself into rehab for a month.

Three years after putting my house up for sale I finally ‘allow’ myself to move over 700 miles away from everyone I know and start anew. I find a job and an apartment in the fourth week I am down there. I find good people and a good life. I complete my healing process.

13 months later, in February of 2015, I decide to quit my “day job” and become the artist I know I am meant to be.

Six months after that…..well this is where we started is it not?

I always knew Savannah may not be my final stop. I figured I’ll give it a few years and go from there. I started to feel like I needed to move to somewhere that was warm for more of the year. Savannah has a great climate but I felt it was a bit colder than I expected during January and February. I was also having both physical and mental issues with the humidity and the accompanying mold. Also, quite frankly, there wasn’t anything or anyone to keep me anchored in that port city.

That feeling of needing to move soon became accompanied by feelings that I needed to get my financial house in order. I sense (and I’m not alone) that the U.S. is about to have a major economic crisis even greater than what we experienced seven to eight years ago. How did these feelings come to me? They started to arise through information obtained which I wasn’t looking for, and which began to resonate deeply. Choices became available and when I followed the feelings and made decisions, the next steps kept unfolding in front of me.

I spent a lot of time educating myself about finance and investing. I ended up forming a new holding company for my retirement plans and moved what little money there is into much safer investments. This whole process took a lot more of my time than I thought at first and did not give me much time to think about where I was going to move and when I was going to do it. So as fall began to turn into winter, I had not come any closer to figuring out where to go than when I first made the decision to move.

I thought about Asheville, North Carolina. I thought about Austin, Texas. I thought about Southern California, down near or in San Diego. I even thought about Mexico! However, when I use the word ‘thought,’ what I mean is that I researched these areas looking for living and employment opportunities. It was a very intensive process.

Ultimately I pretty much decided on the San Diego area. Particularly Carlsbad. This is what I would tell everyone when I began to let my moving become news; around the beginning of October. However, I was still keeping all my options open as deep down, I really did not have any concrete feelings about one place or another.

This is when the universe and the divine power that runs through it began to actively allow the path to unfold before me. By the end of November, I had not lined up any real options for living arrangements or employment, but I knew that I could not let myself linger, so I just arbitrarily picked the end of January as my move date. I made the decision to consciously pay more attention to my higher self; to look and listen for the voice of my soul, and to get off my butt and just act!

You see, I am OPEN to the idea that I am more than just this physical bag of bones with an intellect and ego stuffed inside its skull. Having had past experiences I knew that if I only began to ask more questions and pay more attention, everything would work itself out. It always has.

Of course, that is always easier said than done. The endless ‘but what ifs’ that run through the mind and the endless details – both real and imagined – that show up can be overwhelming. This allows the fears to arise and then before I know it – nothing gets done!

Nonetheless, I consciously opened myself up to awareness, knowing full well that I could EXPECT to be offered guidance. So I acted and on December 11^th I dropped off my termination-of-lease notification to my landlord for the 31^st of January. Now it was time to get super serious about selling off or giving away what I hadn’t yet got rid of yet and packing up all the rest.

After the Christmas and New Year holidays, I had made a lot of progress on the shedding and packing of possessions. I had the back rooms of my apartment mostly cleared and moved the rest up toward the front. But I was running into a continued lack of progress on the whole “Where am I going?” issue.

In fact, I was starting to get desperate. I was set on Southern California, but to be honest, I had been having quite a bit of hesitation about the whole thing. Doubt. For some time, I had been having a growing feeling of unease about the whole move. Yes, despite the fact that I outwardly showed confidence and decisive action.

There were two major points of contention I was having with that part of the country:  The cost of living was becoming a monster in my mind with each passing day (Rents are just insane – $1,000 a month for a room perhaps with kitchen privileges, perhaps not) and the natural gas leak at Aliso Canyon near Los Angeles. The fissure at the Southern California Gas Company site, which began in late October, had been sending an estimated 100,000 pounds of methane into the air each hour. There has never been a gas leak of this size, and for this long. Even though the location was over a hundred miles away, and even though the authorities were saying there was nothing to fear (Ha!) – it was making me feel uneasy. I was already on alert regarding the drought and ongoing atmospheric geoengineering going on in California.

All the little signs that I was receiving, but not paying attention to like high rents, drought, chemtrails, having to live far away from the beaches, natural gas leaks. Well, they didn’t matter, my MIND was made up. I was going there no matter what!

So now, along comes another message, in the form of some intuitive guidance from someone who I hadn’t really asked for guidance. I know this artist, her name is Nell-lynn Perera. She lives in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. We’ve been having conversations through Facebook since the beginning of November. I had seen her posts, due to similar friends through an artist’s group to which we both belonged, and for some reason, one day decided to share something I thought might be of help to her.

On the 10^th of January, we were discussing my move and she brought up the idea that perhaps I was being presented with this kind of information “because that isn’t where I was supposed to be headed for my benefit.” She urged me not to walk into a disaster area where my health could be compromised, saying those that live there already don’t have a choice – but I do.

I mentioned to her that I had been thinking about that, but…..

So she then said, “If I think of anywhere or somewhere I’ll let you know.”

I should mention that Nell creates mostly abstract art in many different media. She’s also a poet and a model. She’s also got a very keen sense of intuition and considers herself highly sensitive to energy and information that does not emanate from herself. She’s psychic. Like we all are, but she is very highly attuned to it.

In fact, she creates these amazing abstract portraits of people that come directly from her intuitive senses. Very striking and very well-appreciated. Nonetheless as soon as she said she’d “think” of somewhere for me I thought, “Well okay, but I’m still going to Southern California.”

About 22 hours later, on the 11th, I get a message that simply says, “Massachusetts.”

“Hmmm,  ?????” I write back.

“Whats with the questionmarks. I said I would give a place.”

“Oh I know. Just wondering where you came up with MA.”

“question that cannot be answered. call it guidance.”

“My youngest son lives there now.”

“ha. what are the odds.”

“But it’s cold up there.”

“then second choice: Florida.”

The conversation went on for a few more minutes and then we said goodbye.

So what am I to do with that kind of information? I’ll tell what I do. I say to myself, “I’m still going to Southern California.”

But it was too late. The message had been delivered and I couldn’t un-deliver it. As the 11^th of January turned into the 12^th and then the 13^th I could not keep from thinking, “What if she is right?”

So I started to adjust my daily apartment and job search to include Florida. Way down in Florida – where it’s warmest. There are not many apartments, or jobs, available in the Florida Keys. Yet, for $600 a month I found myself a room on a pier. Nice huh? Just a tiny, little room. No toilet or sink.

But I’m still going to Southern California. I was trying to forget my conscious awareness. I was already forgetting about the next step in the process:  The TRUST part.

By Monday the 18^th, I was completely distraught. I couldn’t help but think, “But what if she is right?” What if it is Florida? What if, God forbid, it is Massachusetts?

So I decided to use a tool. In accessing one’s intuitive powers, often times it is useful to use tools. People use tarot cards, angel cards, divining rods, crystals, gems, pendulums, I Ching, Reiki, tea leaves and so on. Actually. anything can be used so long as it is something one is comfortable with understanding how to use it and how to read it.

Most times I just know when I am getting information. It just comes as a feeling. Usually, that feeling comes in conjunction with a sign or a series of signs. The signs could be visual, auditory, through a scent or just as I said, a knowing. This time, I used a tool I’ve used only on a few occasions but has always been accurate for me. Accurate, as long as the right question is asked.

I asked Google.

So now that maybe the smile has left your lips yet the doubt is still lingering behind…..remember – a tool is a tool. Ever use a coin as a screwdriver? A toothbrush to clean the cracks in the soles of your sneakers?

The key, for me, in using a tool like an Internet search engine is that first and foremost I meditate and put myself in the right frame of mind. I ask the universe for an answer to my question. I ask that the answer is very specific, I ask that it come in a form that I can understand; that leaves me with no doubt that yes, this is the answer; that sticks out like a neon sign. I set very specific intentions.

I do this because the universe (God) will always answer your question. It’s just that the answer may not come in a form that you expect. For instance, if you just ask God, “God please help me decide if I should marry this person.” You may be looking for the answer to come in the form of something someone says to you and your answer shows up as a line on the billboard you noticed driving home. You may expect the answer today and it comes next month.

In order to access the information of your higher self you must be OPEN to it; you must EXPECT it to come, and you must ASK the right questions using the right words.

So I prepared, I asked as I noted, and I asked that the answer also show up on the first page of my monitor screen and it is not something I have to link to in order to see it. I typed in the question…..

If she is right, then exactly where?

Nothing became apparent through the first eight listings/links. In the ninth, however, my answer sat waiting for me. Right there in the third line…..

Harvard.

For those who don’t know, Harvard is in Cambridge, Massachusetts – just outside of Boston. Other than the fact that this is in Massachusetts, and it was the first location name to show up on the page, this answer had MEANING for me. I had just been to the campus of Harvard University in September visiting my son Devin. He was living in Dover, Massachusetts working on a cooperative farm. We visited Cambridge one day and ended up at Harvard, even visiting a museum on campus.

There was no doubt. It was the first sign.

The first thing though my mind, quite literally, was, “No fucking way! I cannot believe this! I am NOT going to Massachusetts. I’m still going to Southern California.”

On the next day, the 19^th, I started searching craigslist for apartments up in Boston. Just in case.

All day long I’m finding expensive ‘rooms.’

Then just as I’m about to give up I come across a listing I missed. A ‘room,’ but in a cooperative living arrangement. It peaked my interest for several reasons:

• For one, the price of the room was under $800 a month and it included everything – even food!
• The picture of the front of the house showed a porch with a multi-colored flag draped over the railing, it said ‘PEACE.’ Did I mention I am all about peace? Have been for years. In fact, the signature tag on my emails reads, “Take care and seek peace.” It has for at least about a decade.
• The color of the house is purple. Did I mention the color of the 1905 Victorian house that I had rented in Savannah? Yep, PURPLE.
• As I looked further into the cooperative arrangement, I began to feel more and more like this was ME they were looking for – and they only allowed 11 residents!
• And then the kicker: I pasted the address into Google maps to see exactly where this place was and it turns out to be just a couple blocks off the campus of…….yep, Harvard. In fact, it was just a couple blocks from the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology that Devin and I visited. I passed right by the place (unknowingly at the time) while we tried to find a parking space I didn’t have to pay for.

There was no doubt. It was the second sign.

Why, because it had MEANING for me.

But then later that evening, there was doubt again. I could not wrap my head around the idea that I’m supposed to go to Massachusetts, where it is freakin’ COLD!

So after a bit of contemplation, I realized I had made a mistake. I made a mistake in asking my question! I have HOPE!

You see, in my question, I stated, “If she is right…” I assumed that she was right. I didn’t specifically ask if she was right. I assumed it and, therefore, my answer must be incorrect. I would need to verify the answer.

So, knowing that I am not stupid and that rephrasing the same question would likely yield the same answer (note the sly smile) – I decided to just be direct. Which is always the best way to be, and should have been the manner in which I asked to begin with. So I prepared like I did before. Only, this time, I asked that my question is answered in the same manner as before but with one difference, the answer is a clear “Yes” or “No.”

I typed into the field…..

Is she right?

The first word in the first listing was the word……

Yes.

There was no doubt. It was the third sign.

I did not curse. I did not whine. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and accepted. This is where I am going. It has been determined.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Now three confirmations are more than enough. You do not need three confirmations to trust in the voice of your soul. When you become accustomed to listening, you learn to trust immediately. TRUST is the third part of the process.

But just for good measure, the divine source of All That Is in this universe decided to make sure I did not have any more doubts. I was given yet another, a fourth sign. My son Devin called me later that evening, he caught me as I was walking to a movie downtown at the SCAD Trustees Theater with a friend, Beverly. So I told him I’d call when I got home.

Devin was working and living at Powisset Farm and even though the season was over, they let him and his friend stay there during the winter. He had called to tell me that contrary to what he was led to believe, they were not going to let them live there the next couple of months because of some renovations the trustees of the cooperative decided to undertake. I told him that sucked and asked him when he needed to be out. He said to me that he needed to be out the following weekend, the end of the month. He had nowhere to go as of yet and nowhere to put his furniture and things.

Hmmm. Funny how that is the very weekend I am moving up to Massachusetts. The very weekend I am going to need to find a place to stay and a storage unit to put my belongings in until I can get settled. Yes, very funny how that worked out didn’t it.

There was no doubt. (As if there could be) It was the fourth sign.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Now as it turns out I do not end up near Harvard. I do not wind up at the Cambridge Cooperative Club (their opening wasn’t a certainty after all). My son Devin decides to go back to Pennsylvania and hang out with his Mom for a while and he is able to keep his furniture in the barn at the farm after all. Heck, I do not even wind up living in Massachusetts! I land there and stay for 11 days. On the 11^th day, I sign a lease for an amazing artists loft in an old mill in Pawtucket, Rhode Island (just under four miles over the border) and move in the next day.

But none of that matters. I am exactly where I am supposed to be “for my benefit” as Nell put it. I was open to knowing who I am. I expected to hear the voice of my soul. I trusted the voice of my soul – even though I most definitely did not want to listen to what it was telling me. Then finally, I finished the process of listening to the voices:  I ACTED upon what I heard.

But I am disoriented. Only 11 days prior to when I am supposed to leave Savannah, Georgia for Southern California I uncover one of those pivot points I talked about. I change my mind and 12 days later I am in Dartmouth, Massachusetts.

Do you remember that email I told you about in the very beginning of this story? The one about a service called Cell411. It was developed, in part, to allow people to create their own safety net. Do you know that it usually takes police 10 to 20 minutes to respond to a call for help? If you are being robbed or raped or assaulted, the damage is going to be done by the time they get there. So who do you turn to?

I am in a State (and a state) where I do not know a soul. I am starting new and although I knew this would be the case wherever I moved, it means I must rely on myself. But I never have to rely solely on myself, because I have a service I can rely on that will provide me with everything I need, exactly when I need it, and from exactly who is supposed to show up to help me.

Yes, it’s those voices. The voices of my soul. That is to who I turn.

Do I know what will happen on April 11^th? Do I even know why I am here?

Nope, not a clue – other than to create some art, do some writing, tell some stories, make some music and continue to BE.

To be what? To be me. A divine spark of All That Is in the universe. A creation of God made in the same likeness – that is – made to create as well. To be the best that I can be. The kindest and most compassionate human I can create.

Someone up here in New England needs my help. Maybe it’s just me that needs the help. I don’t know. We’ll see.

I suppose I’ll just let be as providence decrees.

Take care and seek peace my friends,

Vince

__________________________________________

Unless otherwise indicated, all images are copyright vincegreen111058.

www.artbyvincegreen.com

__________________________________________

Questions you may wish to ponder:

Who is it that you are meant to help next?

Will you listen to the voice of your soul to find out?

Are you willing to be open enough to believe that you are worthy of direct communication with the All That Is in the universe?

Are you confident enough to expect that you will?

Are you strong enough to trust what you feel and are you willing to suffer through what you don’t understand?

Are you brave enough to act?

What story will you have to tell?

 

I’ve been writing this blog on and off for over a year now.  I think it may finally be time to explain the title.  Which may then help explain me, to you.

What does it mean to follow the voice of your soul?
What does it mean to have intuition?
What does it mean to allow God into your life?

 
Three ways of asking the same thing.  There are even more ways to ask that question.  In fact there is really no need for me to spend a lot of time on it because it is a question ingrained into our very being the moment we are born.  We want to know, almost immediately after we have observed the world around us, how should I act now?  What do I do?

Mostly, at the beginning, we react.  We learn to do what we think we need to do in order to get the reaction from others that we think we need in order to function and survive in the society which we emerge.  Phew!  It is a long and drawn out process of course.  One that takes some people 10 to 20 years to figure out, some 20 to 30 years, some 30 to 40 years, and for some – it takes their whole life.  They do not learn the answer until the final moment in their final breath.

Now let it be said that there is no one set-in-stone answer to the question.  The answer comes in the way of a combination of answers that are used to form the way we think and behave.  For many people, the answer to that question comes directly from what they learn from other people in the society:  The parents, the family, the community, the school, the friends, the workplace, and so on.  Sources are provided and maintained that can be used to guide the response to the question.  Most often these sources are formed out of the societal institutions of religion and government.

There is one source of information human beings have always had to answer the question:  That voice inside of them.  For the sake of brevity, I will simply state that there are two voices we hear inside of ourselves.  One is the voice of our mind, that which comes from the physical brain in our bodily form.  Over the past couple hundred years this voice has been known as the Ego.  It comes from our intellect.  It forms as the connection between our physical body and the physical plane of existence we live within.

The origin of the second voice we hear inside of ourselves is harder to pin down.  Some say it comes from the heart.  Some say it comes from our soul.  Some call the source of the voice their Higher Self.  Some use the words Inner Self.  Some call it the Divine.  Some call it God.  Regardless of what this voice is named, we can agree that the voice is not ours.  Well, it does seem like it could be ours (which in fact I believe it is) yet it also seems to be coming from somewhere other than our intellect and our brain.

To me, this is the voice of God.  Personally, I call this voice my higher self (or sometimes the voice of my soul) as I believe we are constructed not of physical matter, but of spiritual matter.  I believe we are multi-dimensional beings in what we have decided to call “time and space.”  This version of me, Vincent James Green the third, is one of those dimensional beings that make up the whole of me.  I don’t specifically know the other dimensional beings that make me whole because then the construct that enables me to be Vincent James Green the third will have been broken and well, then basically I will be dead to you; but not dead to the real me, and not dead to the real you.

All human beings have these two voices, these two sources of information that helps them decide what to do in the next moment, and the moment after, and the moment after that.

Unfortunately as our species has “evolved” intellectually, we have learned to rely on the one voice more than the other.  In fact the voice of our higher selves has been slowly degraded over the past couple thousand years.  This voice, this intuition, this gut feeling, this psychic connection has been labeled as not-real, not-scientific, not-accurate, not worthy of consideration because it is simply coincidence, happenstance, luck, chance, or it is just plain ooga-booga!

But it was not always like that, in fact the indigenous peoples of this planet, you know – the ones our species has been culling, have always had a very keen sense of the importance of their inner voice.  In fact I believe they have allowed their inner voice to be the leader and the guide of their intellectual voice.  They have allowed their inner voice more weight when a decision is to be made as to what to do next.

Fortunately, there seems to be a slowly-gathering movement among our “civilized” societies toward becoming more aware of this inner voice.  The movement probably gained significant momentum in the 1970’s.  I doubt it ever really went away.  People did not ever forget the voice of their soul.  They just ignored it and allowed it to take a back seat to the progress of our societal renaissance and industrial revolution.

***~*~***

My life has been one of knowing, forgetting, and then remembering.  Just like yours, and every other person to visit this dimensional plane we call Life on Earth.  Beginning in 1994 with the sudden death of one of my brothers, Tim, I began the process of remembering.

During this process I have been reminded of how many times during the “forgetting stage” I actually listened to the voice of my soul.  Each time, I never attributed my actions, my doing, to the correct voice.  Truth-be-told I never really attributed it to anything.  It was more a matter of life just rolling past me, taking me along for the ride.  I never dreamed I actually had a hand in creating everything around me; everything that happened to me; everything I did.

What do I do?

There is that question again, confronting us each and every moment of our lives.  Which voice do you listen to?  Do you even acknowledge the different voices?  Many people do not.  They choose to ignore the voice of their soul.  When they encounter those that do listen to the voice of their soul, those that do follow their intuition, and those that do actually allow God into the mechanics of their life they often view them with a good measure of doubt.

“Geez, that girl is pretty weird, isn’t she?”
“Odd fellow that man is, wouldn’t you say?”
“Some people sure march to a different drummer, don’t they?”

***~*~***

So there you have it.
“Don’t mind me: Just listening to the voices.”

Take care and seek peace my friends,
Vince

UP NEXT:  Specific examples of how I’ve listened to the voice of my soul and allowed the Divine to work through me (what it means, how it manifests itself and how it usually hurts first!).
__________________________________________
Unless otherwise indicated, all images are copyright vincegreen111058.

“Who me?”

“Yeah you.”

“What kind of a stupid question is that?”

“The kind that needs to be answered.”

“Answered by me you mean?”

“Yeah you.”

“But isn’t that question rather presumptuous?  I mean, you are assuming that I, or anyone else for that matter, already has ‘suffering’ in their life.  Right?”

~*~*~*~*~

Okay.  I concede.  I suppose that is a valid presumption.  At least for me it is; and I’m willing to bet it is for just about any being who calls themselves a human.

Perhaps in order to figure out how I choose to suffer, I should begin by determining how I have chosen to suffer.  When I look back on the first 57 years of my life, I have to admit I have suffered in many different ways.  Sure, life has been good.  But life has not been ALL good.  No, definitely not.

Here are some of the ways I’ve suffered over my lifetime*:

By not letting go of this thought-memory:  Premature birth weight and a birth experience that put my mother’s life at risk and caused the doctors to ask my father to make the decision of which life to save if it came down to them making that decision.  He chose mine over hers (Don’t worry she’s a very healthy eighty-two year old).

Through the physical and emotional pain of Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis when I was still in grade school.  Leaving me with still-tender knee and hip joints.

Through the painful shyness and lack of self-worth that began at a young age and, although successfully fought head-on, festered over the course my life.

Despite the liberation of thought, through the shame of abandoning my family’s religion when I was seventeen years old.

By contracting the auto-immune disease Polymyositis when I was twenty years old.  Causing not only the pain of the disease, but also the effects of long-term mega doses of the steroid prednisone.

Through a lifelong feeling of separation, lonesomeness, and not-fitting-in with the world.

Some level of depression caused by guilt and shame and low confidence levels over most of the past fifteen to twenty years.

A thirty-five year addiction to alcohol, which almost killed me when I was in my 55^th year.

~*~*~*~*~

Now whether I can say that I chose to suffer in these ways…..well I know my ego would jump in and reply, “Ha!  NFW.  No F-ing Way!”  Yet if I truly examine my life, I may not have consciously chosen to suffer in these ways, or to suffer at all, but suffer I did.  And if I believe that I am a Being created with the capacity for free will (which I do), then I will admit that I DID choose what I have experienced.  Maybe not exactly as experienced, but I have chosen the course, or the path, the direction of my experience.

However consciously or subconsciously.

Some will not agree with that conclusion, but that is of no consequence to me.  I know it to be so.

So then, what does this say about how I will choose my suffering now?  And furthermore, why should I continue to choose to suffer at all?  Now, or in the future.

I believe I MUST suffer.  I cannot experience the joy of NOT suffering unless I do.  I cannot understand the sweetness in life, the satisfaction, the happiness, the ecstasy in life without understanding what those things are not.  Let me put it this way:  Say I want to have an experience, let’s say one where I jump up and grab a tree limb, pull myself up to where I’m sitting on it and then hang by my legs upside down in the air swinging back and forth.

In order for that experience and its related feelings to be real, to be authentic, for ME – at some point in my life I have to experience the ability to not be able to do that.  I must feel the pain in my shoulder as I try to simply lift my right elbow out sideways to the same height as the shoulder.  I must know the discouragement and despair of that physical pain remembering the thousands of hours of exercise and training.  I must feel completely pissed off at myself, and God, and life.  I must know what some might call ‘feeling like crap.’

Then I can close my eyes and breathe the sweet breeze that blows through my hair and arms as they dangle beneath me from that tree limb and know the meaning of bliss and truth.  I can choose.  I can choose that!

The funny thing is, it doesn’t even matter if one of those experiences precedes the other.  Time is of no matter when it comes to the authentication of knowing.  The experience of one is validated by the experience of the other, whether I am consciously aware of it at the time or not.

Ahhhhh.  Pain and suffering.  Bring it on.  As it’s been said, “It’s all good.”

~*~*~*~*~

So now, how do I choose to suffer?

I choose to suffer willingly.  I accept it and I accept that it is going to happen. I own it, knowing that ‘it’ is only but one half of authentic experience.

I choose to suffer as a human being.  I’m not going to say I choose to suffer without out complaint.  I don’t have that much control over my ego yet.  I’m just human.

I choose to suffer with a sense of adventure.  Every episode of suffering in my life has placed me in unexpected territory.  And as I trudged on through, however slowly, the scenery of that territory has always changed.

I choose to suffer so I can write my life story.  The suffering is simply an inkwell.

I choose to suffer together.  With you.  We’ll share the suffering, and we’ll share the NOT suffering.  We’ll have the authentic experience of being a human being for a while.

How do you choose to suffer?

Take care and seek peace my friends,

Vince

* By no means is this a ‘brag list’ or shared as if to imply that the pain and suffering of others is not as ‘bad’ as mine.  I’m not ignorant enough to believe, or even think, that!  I am a very fortunate individual and I am quite aware of it.  My level of suffering could be considered a blessing by many people who have experienced this world of ours:  Now, in the past or in the future.  I am simply recounting my own experiences.

__________________________________________

Unless otherwise indicated, all images are copyright vincegreen111058.

Today the voices I’m hearing are my own.  Coming to me via the writing of Andy Weir.  You may have heard of him, he wrote the book The Martian, which was recently turned into a film starring Matt Damon.  I haven’t read the book but I’ve seen the movie, I’d recommend it; but that’s not what I’d like to share with you today.

I‘d like to share a short story of his that I found to be quite enlightening and mind expanding.  Perhaps you will as well.

THE EGG*

By Andy Weir

You were on your way home when you died.

It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.

And that’s when you met me.

“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”

“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.

“There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”

“Yup,” I said.

“I… I died?”

“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.

You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”

“More or less,” I said.

“Are you god?” You asked.

“Yup,” I replied. “I’m God.”

“My kids… my wife,” you said.

“What about them?”

“Will they be all right?”

“That’s what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”

You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”

“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”

“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”

“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right,”

“All religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.”

You followed along as we strode through the void. “Where are we going?”

“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”

“So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”

“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.”

I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.

“You’ve been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.”

“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”

“Oh lots. Lots and lots. An in to lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.”

“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”

“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”

“Where you come from?” You said.

“Oh sure,” I explained “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly you wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.”

“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don’t even know it’s happening.”

“So what’s the point of it all?”

“Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”

“Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted.

I looked you in the eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”

“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”

“No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”

“Just me? What about everyone else?”

“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.”

You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”

“All you. Different incarnations of you.”

“Wait. I’m everyone!?”

“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.

“I’m every human being who ever lived?”

“Or who will ever live, yes.”

“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”

“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.

“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.

“And you’re the millions he killed.”

“I’m Jesus?”

“And you’re everyone who followed him.”

You fell silent.

“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”

You thought for a long time.

“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”

“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”

“Whoa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”

“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”

“So the whole universe,” you said, “it’s just…”

“An egg.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.”

And I sent you on your way.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Pause……

So there.  There is no one else but YOU, and God.  Happily creating All That Is so that you may develop, grow and evolve enough…just so that you can finally be born.  Wow!

Can you believe it?  Is it possible?  If so, what does it mean?

Look away from your screen right now.  Who do you see?  Your Mom?  Your husband?  Your child?  Your friend?  Some stranger?

Nope.

You are seeing a reflection of YOU.  Just you.  There is nobody else in the room.

Keep that in mind the next time you speak or act.

It will change the way you think.

It will change the way you think about the way you think.

It will change you.

Take care and seek peace my friends,

Vince

* http://www.galactanet.com/oneoff/theegg_mod.html

There are several videos that have been made based on this story.  You can find them on YouTube.  What I found was that they can blur the vision you created in your mind when you read the story as it was originally conceived. 

Please share this story by sharing this post.  I believe that the most impactful way someone can experience this idea is through reading the written words.

However, if you must, I recommend this adaptation directed, edited, and produced by Harrison J. Bahe and posted by NavajoJoeFilms.  It sticks pretty true to the original story you just read.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1v8si6fb4Qw

Unless otherwise indicated, all images are copyright vincegreen111058.

 

I love looking at this picture of our planet with its satellite in orbit.  I try to imagine how awestruck visitors are upon their first approach to the third planet from this star.  How can such a beautiful place exist?   How amazing the creative force of all that is in this universe?

And then I imagine what it must be like to enter the atmosphere and see firsthand the unimaginable beauty unfolding beneath me as I fly over the surface.

And then to take that first step upon the planet’s surface; to feel the intense physical dimensionality of the wide array of surface textures, and colors, and smells and sounds.  To behold the seemingly infinite variety of life…..

If I close my eyes I can feel that emotion of discovery, the rush of energy flow through me.  I can imagine how empowered I felt seeing the image of the planet and its moon upon arrival; and then how small I feel as I now stand upon the surface.  I feel an intense rush of gratitude.  Yes, that is what overwhelms me as I explore the experience of this new world.  Gratitude.

That is the Big Me.

But then the siren screams past the window and the clock ticks on the wall and the itch demands scratching under my nose and I am drawn back into the smaller me.  The me that so quickly forgets the Big Me in but a split second.  Along with my re-entry into small me come my worries and trials and tribulations; my sense of heaviness and burden; my “reality.”

From up to down my emotions heave, but I have hope.  For at any time I can simply look at this photograph and remember what is really important about this place I call home.  I can understand that I am but an actor on this director-less stage, creating small me with each breath in each scene.

Every time I bring this image of my planet into my mind, into my awareness, I am changing my small me role.  I am enlarging my small me role.  Soon I will be playing Big Me during every scene on this stage.

As will each one of us.

And when we do, all the bombs and guns and threats and greed and hate and fear will simply cease to exist for us.

That is what is waiting for us on the far side of our moon.

The other perspective.

The Miracle.

 

Take care and seek peace my friends,

Vince

 

Unless otherwise indicated, all images are copyright vincegreen111058.

I am taking a mooc from www.iversity.org entitled Digital Arts. In the first lesson, we were given a question to answer.  What is life?  Here are my thoughts on that.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

What if Art is really just Life, in and of itself?

What if art then masks itself to appear as if it is just a part, or an element, of life?

Why would it do this?  Well, without the mask, most human minds would more than likely collapse under the stress of actually knowing what is real.  Thinking one knows what is real is easier to live with than actually knowing what is real.

Don’t you think?

Or don’t you know?

So as a masked reality, art explains itself and in the process, explains life.

What really makes this interesting (and challenging) is that each individual creates art.  They do this whether they think they do or not; or whether they call it art or not.  And…..

…each individual’s art reflects their own truth about life.

So there are currently, and have been, and will continue to be, infinite truths about art – and of life itself…

…and they are all true.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

So I answered the question this way.

“Art is life; pretending not to be life; while going about the process of understanding and explaining life.”

I just thought it might need some clarification.  ~wink~

Skate around

the lemni scate.

In creases

go deeper in.

Limitless on a

plane of no limit.

Iced in finite

I see.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Take care and seek peace,

Vince

Unless otherwise indicated, all images are copyright vincegreen111058.

I am drawn to the Japanese concept of wabi-sabi:  Where beauty is found in the imperfect nature of a thing*. I find it to be a truth that applies to all things.

~*~*~*~

I am also attracted to the imagery of stained glass. I love stained glass – even in the daylight. The initial beauty of a whole piece of stained glass art draws me in:  The design, the composition, the multi-colored mosaic, the texture of the lead and the glass together…

But then, upon closer inspection, I see the complexity of the creation itself. The way in which each individual piece of glass is unique. The way in which these smaller shapes and colors must combine in order to define the larger image. And then the way in which these small individual components are actually held together as one by the web of lead that binds them.

Stand close and you have an abstraction. Stand back and the image is revealed.

~*~*~*~

There is another, second, layer of understanding to a work of stained glass art.

The art form reminds me of the interconnectedness to all of life. To me, each small piece of glass is like each small piece of our planet’s energy. The life energy that includes you and me, him and her, plant life, animals and fish and insects, as well as all the so-called ‘its’ on our planet. ‘Its’ like the dirt and stones, the air and water, the electrical currents, the planet itself and the space around the planet.

In the same way the individual pieces of glass are connected by the web of lead that binds them together, we are all connected by a web of energy. The piece of glass in the upper left-hand corner is connected to the piece of glass in the lower right-hand corner; and without either one of them (or any of the others in between) the picture is incomplete and not whole.

So what then do you call that ‘web of lead’ which binds us all together?

 ~*~*~*~

“People are like stained glass windows: they sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light within.” 
~Elizabeth Kubler-Ross

And so another, third, layer of understanding is revealed. There is that which binds the glass pieces together, and there is that which illuminates the whole. One connects, one expresses. Different and yet the same.

~*~*~*~

The beauty and perfection of the stained-glass piece of art comes from the very collection of broken and stained pieces from which it is made. Wabi-sabi.

Take care and seek peace my friends,

Vince

Unless otherwise indicated, all images are copyright vincegreen111058.

 * The concept of wabi-sabi goes much deeper than this; much deeper than I want to get into now. For the time being, if you would like to learn more visit these sites or snoop around on your own:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wabi-sabi

http://www.utne.com/mind-and-body/wabi-sabi.aspx

http://nobleharbor.com/tea/chado/WhatIsWabi-Sabi.htm