I’m not sure what is happening but I’m got over 4,000 views today and I just don’t believe those are all people.
It’s been going on since November with one or two intermissions so I’m wondering what to do about it. They are mainly from the United States. And I don’t want to think about that at the moment unless it’s essential
Some days are doldrum days.
Some days are like bad plays.
Not such a gift.
Most days have joyful parts.
Most days we lift our hearts.
They pass all too swift.
Some days love speaks to me.
Some days I feel so free.
I love my craft.
Life is a patterned weave.
Love helps us when we grieve.
Love is a raft.
See how the sun comes back.
See how light fills the gaps..
Some days we laugh.
Weep now and I’ll weep with you.
I have known sorrow too.
Yet sorrow will pass.
Joy is not far away.
Joy will return one day….
With life’s arts and crafts
Life is like a Northern drystone wall
The limestone’s perfect balance is designed.
But take one stone out and the whole will fall.
For every stone was to the next aligned.
Maybe its new form is strong, secure
But often it collapses, leaving gaps.
Yet to these gaps, wildflowers will be allured.
And little pools form, home to frogs perhaps
As life goes on, our complex structure grows
And in some part, we see collapse contained.
Not just contained, but new life comes and goes.
In the end, love’s willingness remains.
The journey takes us through a strange terrain.
We are a whole, though parts are misaligned
The space between Eternity and loss
Shows in a long wave when someone dies
With inner eye, we see past the abyss
With human hearts we fear whom we shall miss
Tell ourselves strange stories,even lies
Of gaps between Eternity and loss
Our education was a mite remiss
The rules are pressed, the truth may well just fly
With inner eye, we see past the abyss
As the life we had come down to this,
When love rolled like the tide in a great sigh
No gap between Eternity and bliss
My imagination you dismiss
For as a golden horse, you leapt so high
The inner eye, will see past the abyss
So now we stumble on without a cry
Yet one day all mankind must say ,Goodbye
What grace between Eternity and loss
Shows us how to cross the great abyss?
The drawing I did using Pixlr online photo editor
http://www.janandcoragordon.co.uk/
I recall now that I first came across ideas about gaps when studying art and what stops us from making it. Jan and Cora Gordon’s writing and Marion Milner’s books mention this.Even the best artists must have the experience of working on and even completing a work and finding that it is not what they had hoped for.
Certainly for beginners it can be very depressing and may be the reason why many people who did poorly at art in school never try again… as they felt this gap very painfully.But as with many of the painful aspects of life,it is better to accept and honour the gap.Strangely when we look back at some of our work we may find it has much more in it than we saw at the time.But wanting some pre-conceived notion of perfection we fail to notice the value of what we did in reality.
That may be true on other realms of life such as personal relationships.So don’t get divorced yet!
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Turner’s late work was thought by some to be a sign of madness.This doesn’t mean our daubs are the next great advance in Art or Writing…. but we may need to be more tolerant of ourselves and our productions whilst also being genuinely critical or open to other’s helpful criticism.
Note on Marion Milner
“She was also a talented painter, and in On Not Being Able to Paint (1950) she wrote an important book on creativity and on some of the forces that prevent it. As with so much of her writing, she was not afraid to reveal herself. Her authorial voice was itself an instance of her view that “the internal gesture needed is to stand aside”. The Hands of the Living God (1969), an account of a 20-year analysis, also focused on drawings and doodles, this time her patients’.” From her obituary
They don’t mention when you study maths
Consistency,completeness and their lack
For with any set of axioms there are gaps
Another world, a place, another map
Discoveries that shocked, past reason’s grasp
The man who crossed the hurdles in his path
Godel paid for this by going mad
Is it worth his pain to know the truth?
I wonder if the politics of fear
Will prove completely nothing is a cure
The axiomatic system of dark arts
Is not enough , brings more pain to endure
For maths is simple when compared to life
Where ugly feelings like dark demons writhe
Ode to a lightbulb
Oh,light bulb foreseen by our God
Save us all from darkness’ rod
You are our Saviour as foretold
In prophecy by ancients bold.
We will worship you at night
When sunken is the sun so bright.
We’ll watch TV and Kindle fire
No more to play shall we aspire.
We’ll wear ourselves out watching screens,
As from a can we eat baked beans
We’ll send for pizzas with our phones
With which we never feel alone.
We might talk to our partner dear
Though to text is easier.
We see the neon street lights gleam
Where once we saw the moon’s cold beams
And in bed we read our books
With a kindle or a nook
We put beneath out pillows fair
I phones which we long to hear
Can one have too much new light?
From technology some take flight
For gone are seasons, and their fruit
As our computer we reboot.
New potatoes all year round
Avocados once quite rare
Now are seem ‘most everywhere.
Melons,grapes and fresh green peas
As the birds sing,life’s a breeze.
Oh light bulbs,fluorescent tubes
Electric candle, light is cubed.
We thank you for extended days
Maybe we’ll find time for prayers.
God is great in mystery
No light bulb can help us see.
In silence,darkness, meditate
Wonder what will be our fate.
As retribution for our wrong
Satan stabs us with his prongs
He needs no more light in hell
The fiery furnace cooks as well.
The darkness and the enmity of night
Invite the wild projections of the mind
The lack of trust the need for saving light
The nightmares of the deep that terror brings
The promise of the dawn, the sun alight
Bring comfort to my heart when I’m alone
And yet with hidden mysterieswe fight
We try to read emotion from a stone
The pilgrimage we need to make our life
From avenues to footpath to the fall.
Rewarding conflicts undo human spite
All together we shall hear the call
In the suffering dark we see the sparks
We catch the flames of love to heal the breaks
Whirling in the winter wind, dead leaves
Dry and brown and broken ever more
Send their substance to the souls bereaved
People pray and yet do not believe
Christ was born and angels him adored
On the winter wind float dying leaves
By our spirits may we be deceived,
Even in the heart’s quiet hidden core,
Sharing presence with all us bereaved?
Look into the sun and fire perceive
Power destroys the lives of all its whores
On the wind float lingering, burned out leaves
For men of power think they can God deceive
Yet even kings will die despite their force
To lie in marble graves, of love bereaved
Wrapped in cloths of linen, cream and coarse
With no coffin, Jesus high is borne
With the wind, with ashes , with dead leaves,
The photons of his love light hearts bereaved
How my heart sings 