Saturday, October 20, 2007

After Love, There is Only Art

It is my feeling that the reality in which we live is not real at all. Our struggles, our battles, our wars, our religious beliefs, our political stances, our morals, our societal rules . . . We have been programmed. We have been overcome. We no longer have access to our own minds, our original God-given minds. Everything we feel, see, do, think, is being dictated to us in doses proportionate to our energy. We are helpless pawns in a game of chess played out by something we cannot see. Something we cannot comprehend. Something that the majority of us deny with every molecule of our being; with every vague and distant memory we erase; with every breath we forcefully take; but "it," the invisible transplanted mind exists, nevertheless. When our suspicions surface as anxiety, extreme discontent, depression, madness, or the likes, we are deemed ill or crazy and our symptoms are quickly sedated . . . masked.

All of this, our proverbial downfall, has its roots in the story of Adam and Eve and the Garden of Eden - a story that has a deep-seeded truth within its core: God (the Universe, our Higher Power, our Creator) gave man and woman everything by bestowing upon (us) the freedom of expression; the powers of co-creation; the God mind. We were once expressions of infiniteness . . . in other words, He gave us art - heart - and it was good. Our hearts and our minds were, once upon a time, ONE, and one in the same with God.

Then, the serpent "the foreign mind" appeared and offered man and woman a new mind, separate from God. . . the chance (risk) to attain knowledge without having to look to God. "It" led us to believe we needed to find answers to questions that do not and never did exist in the completeness of our original mind. And with that new foreign mind came our first belief: the belief we
that are separate, that we possess an individual mind. We created that belief because our new mind gave us a new freedom; the freedom to conjure perspectives, opinions and judgments. We had fundamentally created our ego. And with the ego, came our second belief; self-awareness - we are different. We found ourselves naked and ashamed of our own skin. Then, our third belief; that we are better than . . . God . . . We learned how to compare. We created arrogance. We now had a foundation of beliefs . . . we are separate (ego); we are different (self-awareness); we are better (arrogance). As creators, we were on a roll. But, it was not our own mind doing the creating, for we no longer had access to our own mind.

Subsequently, we banished ourselves from the Garden of Eden, and since then we have spent the rest of our time on Earth blaming God or blaming the serpent or
blaming ourselves - which is actually our favorite pastime: indulging in self-reflection and self-pity.

So, here we are; call us zombies, call us pawns, call us puppets, call us food for thought (the thought of a foreign mind, that is). Call us Pavlovian dogs that cry when stimulated in particular ways, that laugh when stimulated in other particular ways, that fight when stimulated in yet other particular ways . . . and we blindly and so foolishly call ourselves individuals.

Our only way to salvation is to release ourselves from the grip of this predatory mind; whether you call it the serpent in the Garden of Eden, or the devil, or societal values, or political beliefs, or religious creeds . . . whatever you wish
to call it is irrelevant. What is relevant is the fact it is real, it exists, it controls us; it is the reality in which we live.

"Wake up people! Stop being Pavlov's pets!" Easier said than done, I know. For allowing something else to do our thinking and the rule-making and the moral setting, etc. takes the responsibility off of us and gives us more time to do what we do best; breathe . . . exist . . . pay the bills . . . cry at the horribly sad stories on the news . . . scream out against the war . . . point fingers at Bush or the Pope . . . make it to church on time . . . shop the sales at Neiman's . . . drink another cocktail . . . bitch out the cable man or the grocery clerk or the waitress . . . complain about the high gas prices . . . reflect upon what terrible people we are, you know, all the really important things that affect our lives every day. All the things we deem as real in our lives.

But NONE of that is real. None of that is important in the BIG picture - in the grand scheme of life. None of that exists - all that exists is love and all that is real is ART.

Art is our only true freedom of expression as creators. It is possibly our last and only link left to our original GOD heart/mind. It is how we express and acknowledge the suppression of our minds. It is how we express the love we are struggling to remember. It is how we express our deepest, most intimate, REAL selves . . . the real selves that we fighting
to regain (whether we know it or not) as our own (while engaged in this cold war).

Art is our
true expression of our infiniteness.

In reality, there exists no religion, no politics, no borders. There exists only love . . . and it's purist expression, art.

For every painting, for every crayoned picture hanging on a refrigerator, for every symphony and musical composition, for every 5th grade flute concert, for every opera, every ballet, every preschool tap recital, every song sung, every pastry baked, every reduction sauce perfected, for every undercooked cake from an easy bake oven, for every novel never published, for every poem misunderstood, for every floral arrangement on a dinner table, for every variety of fillings inside each chocolate in a box, for every engine ever built to be more powerful than the last, for every scarf ever knitted, for every letter ever written, for every snowman ever rolled, for every angel made by a child in the snow . . . Art is the finest, purist expression of love.

Above: Guernica by Picasso depicts scenes of death, violence, brutality, helplessness, suffering people and animals, buildings wrenched by violence and chaos.
One might say, this does not look like an expression of love and I say to that; this is the highest expression of love for this is the TRUTH. This is the reality we have chosen with our free will and the subsequent loss of our original God minds.


eric1313 said...

This was quite a post, Lindy. I loved it. You expressed your thoughts perfectly, you created art about art, and creation about creation itself. I really dig this post. Your love for life burns in every word.

"Companions the creator seeks, not corpses, not herds and believers. Fellow creators the creator seeks--those who write new values on new tablets. Companions the creator seeks, and fellow harvesters; for everything about him is ripe for the harvest."
--Friedrich Neitzsche
Thus Spoke Zarathustra

Michelle's Spell said...

Great post! I agree -- art is a the great help and healing when things get tough. I've always loved Guernica and all the tragic painters, particularly Rothko.

Pythia3 said...

Thank you Eric and Michelle :)
I love the "you created art about art" Eric - that's what it is all about. Great quote too.
This post wrote itself - its been wanting to be written for some time now, and finally the spark caught fire.

the walking man said...

Lindy, I wanted you to know that I read and understood every word; yet you don't know me well enough for me to share my thought. Not a shortcoming on your part nor a lack of desire on my part but I simply think that to understand my mind, my heart you would have to be able to see my eyes.

But a thoughtful post that speaks to your passion.



eric1313 said...

No problem, Pythia. Hope you are well, and that art is healing you quite well.

Kate S said...

Nice post, Lindy. I would have too much to say to comment on it fully, so I'll just say, nice job. :)

Erik Donald France said...

"We are helpless pawns in a game of chess played out by something we cannot see." Well put ;)

I love Guernica. Artists rock like demiurges, living in both remembrance and foreknowledge. Which is good, because humanity is about to experience a new Guernica phase in Iran and Pakistan, and most of us aren't going to have any idea what hit them until it happens.

Then we'll be left with -- cave paintings.