Category Archives: Art metaphor

Out of the box

Perhaps Pandora was only ever meant to be the counter-impulse to a world that became so fixated upon compartmentalising everything that it was missing the point (or denying) that there is so much more than that which can be defined or pigeon-holed by the mind. Perhaps she was our safety-catch, primed to spring apart at just the right moment to save ourselves from our own self-defeating, self-limiting intellects. Perhaps many of us have experienced the unleashing of our own internal Pandora in recent years or decades and it is the combined effect of all these boxes springing open as one (mimicking many breakdowns and disasters in our lives…but, all of them, evolutionary in their nature) that is manifesting our next biggest evolutionary leap forwards. Who knows what small (or significant) part these archetypes have played, even as depicted in well-timed artworks hung on the walls of places where we spent our formative years; who know what a painting in a college full of women did for over thirty years at a key time in history (one of many drops in an evolutionary ocean). What makes a story such as hers ebb in and out of favour across the annuls of time yet never fully disappearing, even when we have tried to bury it deep in the basement under layers of dust? Yet, not to be set back by that unpromising outcome (much like many of us…) she found her way back into the daylight. Perhaps she has been pushing forwards with her message, with even more vigour than ever; the somewhat inconvenient wake-up call suggesting we might all want to let ourselves out of that mind-box once in a while. Whilst there were always going to be those that weren’t ready to hear her, I take heart from the fact there were others who were prepared to seek her out from her cobwebs and put her back in full view where she was always meant to be….(read more).

The true story of a painting lost and refound and how the way this became woven into my own life-story helped me to appreciate and understand the opening-up of my own personal Pandora’s Box as the evolutionary process that it was.

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In every ending…a new beginning

The mother could not be such without the child, nor the beginning exist without the ending…and so we go on birthing ourselves through the creative fires of each other, joined together equally by the creative watery flow that courses back and forth; linked by both the “fire” and the “water” processes that generate who we are.

There is no imperative to have been through the literal birthing experience to know and understand this fundamental process of life since it is the basis of all experience; the yin and the yang in action. Many of us have been (or are going) through our own particular version of the kind of fire that transforms and yet we can trust that the water of healing and deeper understanding will always follow. I sense that the healing, invigorating and enlightening waters of this reality are on the brink of breaching their holding spaces and overflowing their edges right now, for all of us, as we collectively birth into the themes of the Aquarius age. Just as I am hearing from water across so many aspects of my life, I sense that we are collectively expectant (and just a little bit nervous…as is only natural) as we reach that equally collective moment of the waters breaking ready to birth something entirely new and transformational into our world. Continue reading

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Going direct

(In art…as in many spheres of activity; very topical, this one!) the pressing ‘need’ to make money has overtaken logic at many stages of the game, which is what happens when we place money at the centre of everything by deciding its what makes the world go round. Maybe we need to choose a different axle for our wheel… Continue reading

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Don’t give it your power…and then paint it the way you like it

When these apparent tumbles in our circumstances happen, it hurts with all the betrayal of thinking that all the glories we have gathered along the way were false signposts, conjurings, mistaken glimpses through the mist. The pain comes from feeling our power taken off us – all over again (or that’s how we feel) but, really, it is because we have forgotten who we really are for long enough to give our power away…again. Its death of a thousand cuts comes from the handing over of our power to outside circumstances at the first sign of “here we go again”, making our joy conditional like we are sheep resignedly walking back into the same-old fold. The shock to our system can be profound after living it large for so long. We allow ourselves to go back to that cramped little world where we “can only be happy if” such and such thing happens or is a certain way, having come to know how expansive it is to live way beyond that. It is not so much that we are disappointed by this thing as in ourselves…for freely handing over our sovereignty to the “stand and deliver” of outside circumstance all over again, having told ourselves we were beyond all that. If there was one week when I needed to easily demonstrate to myself that I was capable of flight…whatever the outward circumstance…this was that week yet the learned behaviours of lie down and succumb can be powerful pattern-makers and they play out even now, in the swan-song of their era; for we are way beyond going back into the small places we have lived in for so long. This week has felt like the death throes of old reactions that hold us small…while we catch our breath…before throwing them over for ever. Continue reading

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Released from the jar

Suddenly, in a great tidal-flow of synchronicity, I was finding the Cumaean Sibyl, the ancient prophetess everywhere so what is it that the she represents and reminds us of in these times; right where are now in so called “history” on the brink of remembering there is also a thing called “herstory”? Is she that very story…the story of the sacred feminine, the wisdom of the lost female aspect that, with each passing year, was mislaid just a little bit more…burned, droned out and shouted down again and again until she remained only tenuously as a hearsay, word-of-mouth, Chinese whispered thing, like a little voice trapped in a jar?

Is this what Shelley, Plath and Wolfe and others like all of us who realise we carry this shared female experience in our cells have been feeling ever more defeated by, especially last century when the feminine seemed all but doomed (and had nothing to do with burning bras)? Did she feel so done, then, that all she had the strength to long for now was to anaesthetise the pain with prescription medications, or by succumbing to an unconscious lifestyle of endless consumption and distraction to numb her senses, or to snuff herself out altogether, “to die” as Elliot said. Is that the state of hopelessness that Shelley predicted in “The Last Man” and why”The Wasteland” must have felt like the beginning of the fulfilment of that dire prophesy a hundred years ago? Have we just witnessed our “darkest before the dawn” moment and are we now stepping out the other side of that, into the unfiltered light of a glass-less panorama? Had I just scraped the soil off the root of my long-time preoccupation with glass houses and views through windows, the one-time focus of my painting that no longer inspires me. Have we just gone “direct”, like the solar-return celebration of our civilization, with no more place for misted or distorted panes of glass, no desire or call for an intermediary in any shape or form on our route to clearly seeing our highest selves?

So what has changed, how are we in any different place now, what feels better and how are we re-writing that ending in the midst of an about face turn that changes absolutely everything? I don’t know it in so many concrete terms that I can put into words but I feel it as distinctly as it is possible to feel anything. In myself, I see how I have realised the new ending in the many thoughts that rose up in me, first, about being “kept under glass” and then knowing I was now “released” from that same glass. Like paint doubs on a canvas, I have felt myself fragment and reconfigure entirely and confinement is no longer part of that picture. Its a quantum change yet it is very very real and I feel it for all women. Continue reading

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Glass butterflies

I noticed something very distinct about Amsterdam and that was how the layout of its main canals, in a layered horse-shoe shape, divided by roads and intersecting canals that fanned it out like a turkey-tail, reminded me of an inverted tree of life or rather, a tree of life labyrinth. I have talked about my labyrinthine experiences walking around the streets of various towns many times before and here was another example showing up in my experience. The labyrinth can be an extremely powerful way of encountering portals at the points where energies intersect and seems to invite multi-faceted experience into your awareness through these portals; which serve as an axis-point between other dimensions (you could think of such a portal as the truck of a tree connecting dimensional “branches”). So, in effect, you can find yourself standing in an ordinary physical “place” when suddenly your three-dimensional “reality” (which starts to take on symbolic significance in ways you didn’t notice before; these everyday things are now”clues” to make you sit up and take notice) seems to intersect more fluidly than ever with other dimensions that you can now perceive.These power nodes train you in multi-dimensional awareness and so you familiarise yourself with its potential in ways that you get to take with you through other walks of life. When you encounter these power-portals, you feel riveted to the spot as coincidences of circumstance “speak” to you in a multitude of ways, offering new layers of deeper meaning and understanding to what you ordinarily encounter with your five senses. Continue reading

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Realising pure potential

The journey of my latest painting shared  this week in my art blog Source: Painting light

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A walk in the park: healing the deepest wound of all

So, we chose our own life…but, if so, why would we choose yet another lifetime with the same old trauma “in it” that we’ve been through before, knowing that we are going to experience it all over again? In my opinion, certainly in my case, in order to heal it…to make this the grand finale, the one lifetime where I drew together all of the themes, the layers of understanding, the old gender-based and cultural wounds, the defunct historical context of what we have more recently been through, the fullest recollection of the “lost” aspect of the divine feminine that I could muster across all my multi-lifetime experiences and then a clear understanding of how to resuscitate her as a living reality in this newly awakening world. I chose this life so I could add all of these ingredients into one huge melting pot of experience…and to heal it all by seeing and acknowledging it all and, yes at some level, forgiving it all ready to move on. I did it in order to say at the end of it “I believe we can do better than that, we can work together to create something far different for our world now” – and so we can. Continue reading

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The power of portraiture – transformation through art

Where have I been, what have I been doing all these quiet months? (As newly shared in my art blog) I have been on a deep inner journey whilst painting a self-portrait that had so much more to share than … Continue reading

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Go into the garden

Through our very actions, our softly treading footsteps into the secret part of the garden, we demonstrate how its not always about having to be in the heart’s racing pulse of everything that seems to going on at such speed and with such drama all around us that we feel, constantly, like we might be left behind. Rather, we go where the little girl inside us leads for she still remembers the way there, knows where the white rose always blooms. This is sacred knowledge and it is coming back into the broader consciousness, led by those who already feel it; by the heart. Continue reading

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