Posts Tagged 'light'

295. A meditation

FullSizeRender 4

Night is coming to the desert

In the fading light

Animals show up

In a hurry

As if their working day


Legs and tails

Sharp little teeth

Soon it is hard to tell

If they aren’t really

Thorny bushes

Folds of earth

Or empty rivulets

Waiting for the floods

That may or may not come

This year


Then the stars

Open their eyes of innocence


Pouring down on us

The essence

That we are.












273. Cuing you in on a good moment

freezing fear profile

This is a person too.

You can see him dancing, even though not anatomically correct.

But when I sat down to paint this, I did not know that this would come.

I was thinking about how the energy in my body moves when I feel the fear.

So what is the fear?

It started when I was three and a half. I did not have the language to describe and explain to myself what happened and I could not choose what to do based on my story. Instead, it was created energetically, unexplained. There was a crude understanding, as children do, and it was all wrong.

So I just let my mom do with me whatever she decided to do. She was hurting and never knew how to share her feelings or ask you about yours. You can say she was a logical and practical person. She thought about what made sense to her and did it. I wrote about it in the past. It is about the death of my father in the war and how I came to think that I have caused it.

Usually, I am very good at detecting inner events like feelings, sensations, thoughts, even those very fast and quiet thoughts, that we usually are not even aware of. I am really good in catching them all. You can say, in a way, that I live partially in my subconscious.

But this fear used to overwhelm me without me noticing it. Suddenly I would be frozen without any feelings, except for finding out that I was not doing anything in spite of having decided to do something.

That something had always to do with trusting my heart and doing something independently, something that I really wanted to do.

The event that brought about that trauma also started with me, while I was, so innocently, following my dreams, and sensing success.

So many times throughout my life, when I would start moving in the direction of my dreams, this fear would freeze me and I would not feel anything for a few days.

It happened again these days. And I wanted to draw/paint how my body felt.

The color shapes give a feeling of dancing. But if you look closely at the character of the drawing lines, you’ll see that they have the energy of wanting to grab something, they struggle and they feel lost and hopeless.

But in some ways the situation is better than in the past.

There is also an expression of pain, and one of the places of pain is the area of the feet. The body tries to get up and dance, but it can’t because it is wounded.

Also, if you check where the center of gravity of this body is, you’ll see that it is slightly under the middle of the page, and because of it, it feels as if the body is too heavy to fly up. Just this, the sense of heaviness, shows the desperate state, the disbelief in the possibility of arising. Also the lines of the drawing are expressions of feelings.

So there is more expression of feelings this time. It is good. There is no freezing any more.

Then there are the yellow lines and they are the light and the freedom that are in me too.

The blue lines also look as if they do not belong with the feelings that the rest of the body has. They are a little more relaxed, colder and freer than the body. Maybe the blue lines are like the surface of water and the body is coming out from the water.

And here, maybe, you can catch, like a detective, but in this case don’t forget to be a loving and maybe even a laughing detective, why the pain was developed and kept in the body system. The fear that freezes was in danger of disappearing. You know how careful and inventive the subconscious can be when it believes one of its programs is in danger. I meditated a lot and was getting to deep places and to different energetic environments, such that would make the fear disappear, as it cannot be in such environments. So the subconscious gave me an explanation why I won’t be able to do anything, and gave me a convincing story, to prove that I need to keep the fear. I just can’t, with this pain, do anything. The degeneration takes away more and more of the body and I’ll die one day, without flying. That’s what the subconscious says, just because I had taught it to protect me in this area.

I got you in on this moment of change. There is one solution to all problems, psychological and physical. It is: Go deeper within yourself.


272. You have never been anything but this

Flow in the body













How deep can we go into it?





So what will a painter do?

255. Two about light and you


The flowers grow in all kinds of shapes

The light in the flowers

Is your light

The light in all things

Is your light

Every little speck of dust

Is a door

The door is always open

Come, go through it

Come and meet us where you are.


There is light in the white areas

There is light in the ochre

There is light in the black and grey

I am in the black of all shapes

You are in the white of all

And we do not know

We tell each other ochre stories

We laugh and we cry

We say: I am ochre, who are you?

Are you ochre too?

Don’t tell anybody that I said this

These are actually

Only words.

236.The energy is left with no job




The name of the creator is I too.








Everything is okay.


The big yellow mother would like to say: Be careful!




Then I woke up.




After some time I did this painting.


232. Come


Be the light in you

Beyond the clouds of thinking

There are playgrounds

With no words

The sun will speak with you

Of being wild and transparent


The sun has made a boot for you

And on the boot it wrote:


125. It is so close


When I illustrated ’The Chanukah Tree’ I was in a period in my illustration in which I was very aware of every single brushstroke that I made. It had to feel a certain way. I can remember the feeling that I sought. Now imagine: How many brush strokes were there in the book and in all the illustrations I did through many years? Numerous. right? And I did this every single day.

Here in the room I hanged an illustration from this book.The picture at the top is part of it.

The people of the story and a few unknown characters run excitedly, on their main street at night, to see the stranger and his strange car driving through their Christmas-night village-center.

Before starting with the individual colors of each person and object, I did seven layers of under-painting that covered the whole area of the illustration with brush-strokes, and I paid attention to how every brushstroke related and combined with the other brushstrokes.

This created the darks and lights of the illustration. It was a night scene and I wanted it to have the darkness feeling of the night. I did all these in one day between eight in the morning and something like seven in the evening, almost non stop. Then I walked through the neighborhood to another home there, to bring my daughter home from her friend.

I did not think about it at all but I was in a deep meditative state. A group of four big-bodied youngsters stopped me. One aimed a pistol at my heart and told me to be quiet. Another strangled me from behind, so I won’t be able to move. I was peaceful and had no fear. I looked into the eyes of the guy with the pistol and nothing was going through my head. The pressure on my throat felt uncomfortable. I took the strangling hands away from my throat with no much effort (he did not resist) and started to walk , as if nothing happened, continuing toward the house where my daughter was.

If you are into every brush-stroke in an artwork that you make, if you feel them all, you are meditating, and it has a very good effect on you.

If you feel everything that you do to make sure it feels as you want it to feel, and it is up to you how you want it to feel, you are meditating. It means: You are coming from your true self. It is so close.



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