Napkin poems

What then? Go fight another war
Or make art past death
Be a star which shines down
After dying in silence. for thousands of years.
Or like a squirrel keep burying nuts
That one day will be huge oak trees!
//
Go enjoy the day, you say again today.
So, I will. But so many days beat that simple joy
Out of us. Until, just to enjoy a friend’s face
In the right afternoon light, is enough
To want to die or live again.
//
In terms of sleep
It is a free cinema
With every genre imaginable
Waiting for us, like death itself
To sit in the cool dark red-curtained viewing room
And wait for the credits to roll.
//
I never wanted to go to bed as a kid
Felt I’d miss something of what the grown up’s must know by now.
I was wrong. They knew little, and I was not wise enough
To go dream. Death must be like that. A kid
Trying to stay awake, when he should be content
With dreaming.
//
I’m by now just about empty enough
To sing a real tune. He emptied Himself
To be. And me, I’m still so full.
But the longer I go, the more empty a become
Come to Me all who have empty glasses
Ad I will fill them, He whispers in the dark.
//
Moses went up into the dark to hear
The forever words….
The people were afraid—you go, we’ll stay here
At a distance. We see the lightening and hear the thunder-you go.
So he did, and told them all he saw and heard.
By that time, they weren’t staring at the mountain
All they saw was gold. And he told them
Then, how they had been tested and refined
By what they chose to look upon.
The stones broke open the words in their hearts….
Eventually.
No one wants to go up the dark mountain
And carry down the weight of the words exchanged there.
But he did. And those tablets still speak
To those willing to listen in the dark.

Moses was a weight lifter.

Working with this new gold metallic paint today. Just playing with circles and space. I dig gold. It’s like Klimt without the beautiful women:)!
These are in love with circles space, and strangely embryonic. Often mine are about sky and underwater; these are something else.
Anyway, I fell in love with gold today. I don’t clean my brushes well, but I do love color well. And I do love shapes forms and lines and the universe, especially the hidden music that is constantly here, when we listen, even in rudimentary ways—ie through painting circles!
Painting really does have sound implied!
I often paint in silence so I can hear the music.
Lines, rhythm notation is floating all around us.
We get to recreate the universe daily, or at least tune into it! Songs are just floating in the air waiting to be played.
Every time I see a plant canvas or pick up a camera, I feel potential. What does this shot want to say, which conversation does it want to overhear.
The coming away from prayer or art is the hardest. You’ve been aware of the layers of life, and have to pretend there is only one. But the imagination and the spirit cannot be imprisoned. God is uninterrupted. But we interrupt Him all the time.
I have a dead friend, who told me I was a real fine artist. I never mastered a medium, but I think he was talking about something else. Art is depth listening, an invitation to others to hear what you saw. It’s not really about the artist, it’s about what they saw.
Art is an invitation to the unseen circus all around us always!
In my dream, my whole part of heaven was made of potential. Stacks of old brooms, abandoned circus tents, left over wires, whale bones suspended like Calder pieces, levitational rooms with old costumes…..everything waiting to be art again.
What else can these brooms do, but sweep, my mentor used to say. And he would make two headed brooms and hang them on the wall to make the point.

The best way to talk about God is art. The true mystics got this. That He deserves an invitation rather than a doctrine. The best medium is art.
Jesus left no systematic theology. He left stories and riddles-or parables. He left a symbol we are invited to climb into! The main one about Him, told by those nearby Him.
When He did formally teach, He told stories and koans or parables. This was normal for Rabbis then. They realized that God is both ineffable and effable. That He is namable and the One who cannot fully be named.
But all the great mystics spoke in creative language in order to invite us towards God. To show us the gate or door (or, even a door bell for those of us who can’t hear well, when someone comes to the door and knocks!), but not to tell us everything which was on the other side. Jesus speaks of a “Kingdom” borrowing from the Roman Empire.
And then describes this kingdom using metaphors and symbols.
Mysticism is not anti-rational, but rather trans-rational or supra-rational. It speaks in symbol and stories like the Song of Songs. It speaks of intimacy with the Divine in metaphor and symbol—like a poem between two lovers.
Jesus used parables when inviting people to enter into the Reality of His Father’s Realm. He did not leave us a systematic philosophy or theology. He left us an invitation. His method was the symbol of His Own Life and then His cryptic but enterable tales and parables. The Kingdom is like….similes and metaphors were His pedagogical method. Telling that.
God can be named, and can’t. An invitation to encounter God is more useful than a thousand books about God.
St John said, God is Love. The most abstract and true thing ever said.

And the truest. But how is love encountered. The rest of His gospel is stories and tales of signs and wonders, miracles and tall tales—just tall enough to walk inside and know.
John and Jesus left us invitations! Our mailboxes are filled with them by now. Do we want to go to that banquet or not? The mystics went! Let’s join them.
Art invites us to participate in the Reality to which it is pointing. That’s what Jesus did. If you have “seen” Me, you have perceived My Father.
Jesus was the finest art ever.
To the degree we engage our whole selves with Jesus and His stories and parables, we enter into the reality to which they both point and participate. That is how to read the Bible. And certainly how to encounter the art of Jesus.
Thomas Merton pointed out in his book on Zen, is that the Zen masters were trying to guide people into and encounter with ultimate reality, which was outside of language, but which was not anti-linguistic. Language itself is symbolic.
Jesus is called The Word. The Living Word. He is the pure symbol of what He Himself is. He is the Word which doesn’t stand to represent the Word, but is the Word. So He is the ultimate art.
Art invites us to participate in the reality from which it speaks.
To be mystical, in our culture, implies anti-rational. I would suggest, that mysticism is just to engage the whole self in encountering the Ultimate. When we listen to music or look at great art, we are trying to “enter into” what is Real. The Pure image of what is, as it’s been called. Jesus is said to be the exact representation of God. The Pure Image.
So we, who are made in His image, are wise, to fix our gazes on Him, as the pure invitation to know and be known by God.
Art is the shortcut into Reality. As you see in Tolstoy’s “Confessions”. The whole book is him overcoming an overly rationalistic view of God, but it ends with him telling a dream. The dream is what lets you into what he discovered in his life.
Being to being, deep to deep living, requires us to enter into what each symbol participates in.
Mysticism is taking out the trash while being aware of God.
When everything in your life becomes a “spiritual” practice of encountering and collaborating with God, you’re a mystic.
Love God, and do whatever, as St Augustine, who may or may not have been a mystic said.
My point here, is that art—the language of symbols and forms-is the most direct method of presenting what is Real. And what is Real is the gospel. That God so loved the world…..
Mysticism is just to be expectantly reliant on something Loving which is larger than us, and was here before and after us; to humble ourselves enough to know we are kids in this Universe, and find our names as we lean into upwards and within to The One who knows His Name and is the Father of all names.
The symbolic, one strata of meaning, is the quickest way in.
King David prayed to become a living symbol or portent for others. Jesus was the ultimate port. And, we in His Image, are signs and symbols pointing to the Great Creator of names!

The reason even the Western masters like Kandinsky spoke of painting from the Transcendent, was that the only way to express the aquarium we are all in, is through art! It’s the closest proximity and the best form of invitation to Life. Art addresses our conscious, unconscious and every level of who we are–the gospel requires our entire being to awaken to know it! Art is the best sort of language for that type of transformational encounter! And the gospel isn’t new news. It’s ancient, and requires ancient techniques to be expressed well. When we worship, we employ art. And worship may be the highest form of art. That makes sense. Given, us being human!

Considerations I’m having…..

In Zen paintings, the subject is The Absolute, but the medium to encounter it, is the little simple boat. I wanted to add what Elijah saw—that the Absolute is replete with sound, color and characters-animals staring at angels!
Yes, it is trans-rational, but not absurd, rather teeming with life, as even a single pond is. Nowhere we look lacks life on every level. Life is teeming with life! Silence filled with music. There is no Void. No place without life. “Even hell is filled with souls!”
Kandinsky wanted to paint music. Jesus spoke in koans and parables to invite us to encounter Reality. If you want to know what He is talking about, you have to dive right into the parables to know.
Reality is relational, and requires depth encounter to be known.
A good painting just shows more of what is already really there, or here.
We see the three big influences on western art in the 20th C being: Zen (the version coming from Japan); Freud and Jung’s theories, and existentialism. We might add some form of Neo-Marxism.
Each deal the nature of Reality in different manners. And each lead to different forms of art.
Great art is a like staring through a key hole into a previously unseen room which was always there, but needed an opening to be seen through.
Just as the act of prayer, allows us to tune into the larger ongoing conversation, so art, lets us see more of what is already there.
And what is already there, is more that the artist’s unconscious, unless they are incredibly narcissistic. And even then, great art, goes far beyond self expression—it is overhearing self and Being conversing.
Even when Van Gogh mirrors himself in his self portraits, he is aiming at something Absolute. His white stone forever self. The particular poetry of God he was and, I’m sure still is!

//
What I’m learning. First century context to Jesus life and ministry. Then the three major streams of influence in the 20th C.
//
To live in simple thanks for each day. A thankful life—being to Being.
The idea of wabi in Zen—poverty or simplicity. Just being thankful while taking out the trash. Adding to that—to consciously BE WITH the Spirit of Christ as you do all things. Life as collaboration.
//
I’ve always wanted to guide people to the circus or the Big Top larger Reality space, so we know how wondrous it is. Back in the day, that was the Jones ( circus family I traveled with), or travel, itself; or hidden cathedrals in the forests of Europe.
. But it has always been His Kingdom Big Top, I wanted people to believe in. That magical space and place which is always right here.
The Kingdom is not just coming, it is here. I believe, for I have seen enough to know.
Even music or movies is reminding us of what’s just behind the veil.
Life is mystic, you don’t have to be a mystic to know it—just look at any good art. There is more than meets the eye, once the I opens to it.
At first, like St Paul, it may seem blinding. Like in Matrix when Neo is reborn, it is at first hard to see. But then the new or always Reality becomes familiar.
As in CS Lewis’ “The Great Divorce”—the grass no longer hurts our feet once we get used to it.
My art and life is about pulling back the veil and saying, there is more to Life than meets the Eye; and in doing so, I hope, with St Paul, that your eyes may be enlightened to see far more than we all imagined! Jesus came to bring sight to the blind—that’s all of us!

//
My other life theme is that we all are named. We all are not just loved, but have nuanced names which want to be pronounced. To be named is to be loved. And Love is all that knows your name.
Once, loved, we are able to love and be safe places for others to find or hear their own names.
The thesis is that God wants to pronounce His own poetry. And we the poems.

//
If we look at Zen, Existentialism and Psychoanalysis-we see the big three lenses of the 20th C.

//
Painting is like meditation; writing is like overhearing more layers to the conversation.

Always play for the angels; and if you’re really bold, play with them! Life is a collaboration with unseen friends above and around us daily!

God is always clapping for us, but we don’t often hear it! Life has applause implied! Grace never stops giving standing ovations for each of us! Well done everyone! Fortunately, the applause is not based on how well we performed. He’s just proud that we are on the stage! Like any good father would be.

Live your season of life well. It makes a way!
My mentor from college days recently told me, as he gets into his 90s, going to bed at night is practicing dying. Sounds morbid, but not in his case. He has acquiesced his soul to God already while here. Makes for good sleep, he told me. I’ll trust that golden piece of advice.
Nice when people live their particular season of life well. It takes away the fear before you get there!
This mentor has written many books on the artist Van Gogh and his spirituality, as a pastor’s kid. His books and life has helped mine immensely. Thankful for those, who unlike Van Gogh, get to age well like fine wine.
Still bearing good fruit in old age is a sign of righteous living, as the Psalm says!
My own father would be another example of that. Thankful for those who go before us. We do our somersaults on the shoulders of giants!
//
People see inconsistently, God sees well constantly. Perform for Him, not people. Their applause always dies down, but He is always clapping for us! And knows us each by name. His Eyes watch us always; peoples eyes often glance to the side. We are easily distracted. The whole show is for Him. Perform as if God was watching your life like we watch a great movie. And make it a great movie!
//
King David could care less what people though, when he was dancing half naked before the ark of The Presence of his God. He wasn’t dancing for the crowd. He was dancing in front of His King.
Always perform for the angels not the audience, as my mentor put it.

Thinking about Moses or any of the prophets trying to drive today, with all they were seeing….

You see the patterns in the trees
The next day you don’t
You hear music in the leaves
The next day you are raking them….
That grief, keeps you looking uo
In case an angel passes through the leaves
Come tomorrow and rustles your sight back awake!

The prophets saw several dimensions occurring simultaneously inside and outside of time. Even Paul, was blinded to see and hear more from other planes. Art is about pulling back the veil enough to see more of what is really already always there. Like Elijah when he saw the great host, or those shepherds. Artist tend to live seeing everything at once. Like prayer for me, just lets you see more of what is always going on around us. Art is mystical in that practical way. But don’t make art and drive. Even when I’m praying and driving, I see too many angels, and keep swerving.
The theater has many layers beyond even upstage! And the lighting tech guys perhaps know this best. It’s not just what’s on the stage, it is all that is happenings around, above and below it, that makes the magic of life!
All my own paintings have animals, angels, trees, people, cities-all occurring at once. Often the animals see the angels better than the people do. But there is always one recurring character I paint. A man walking on a wire with special sunglasses on, who can see the angels and that the sky is made of music.

Where I do therapy?

I do therapy in my car
Under bridges
On airplanes
With strangers
Who become friends.
I do therapy with billboards at night that suddenly are alight
And with smoke stackes from factories up and down
The east coast.
I do therapy with priest and homeless and The Holy Ghost.
I even do therapy in my sleep. My dreams
Are an unseen therapist for free. We watch
Movies together, eat popcorn and just be.
I listen to trains in Antwerp, and am immediately cured.
I watch local birds until I remember my inner name procured.
I listen to the opera of sunset, if I really want to transcend.
In the end, I do therapy with everything everywhere I go.
I listen until I know
I’m see until I glow.
I put a bumper sticker on my skin so it shows,
And paint on bathroom walls (very low art)
We are more than we know-to do therapy
As I go! Let go high and low until we know whole.
I do therapy mainly with angels in my dreams,
But sometimes while playing pool with friends I just met.
Or in the alleyways of the world, where Jesus always show up.
My Healer and I, we do therapy every day.
We collaborate in healing through play!
Just there, a warbler landed near me to steal my French fries-
She and I will be doing some therapy
Just about now.
I do therapy with my wife at night
When we are trying to recall the day, and not fight
And say, to one another again, I know your name by heart, love.
I do therapy with the postman who
Is always talking to himself on his phone
But seems so alone.
I do therapy with my neighbor
Who just lost his parents and is building tents
In his basement. I do therapy.
I do therapy by listening well, until I know or…
Simply gazing in love into someone’s eyes.
I do therapy while trying to save a squirrel
Who got hit by a car. I do therapy in any bar.
I do therapy by riding my bike
I do therapy by loving what I like
I do therapy by singing to myself
I do therapy by trying to bless someone else.
I do therapy by taking out my trash
While singing loudly some Johnny Cash
I do therapy by eating what I please
I do therapy daily on my knees.
But I do therapy.
I do therapy mainly
By remembering I’m loved despite myself and you,
From something I can’t fully know yet, undo, or view
From above. I do therapy by telling everyone the same—
You too are named
You too are named, claimed and adored. And we
My friend, are all in therapy and nothing more.

Where I do therapy?

I do therapy in my car
Under bridges
On airplanes
With strangers
Who become friends.
I do therapy with billboards at night that suddenly are alight
And with smoke stakes from factories up and down
The east coast.
I do therapy with priest and homeless and The Holy Ghost.
I even do therapy in my sleep. My dreams
Are an unseen therapist for free. We watch
Movies together, eat popcorn and just be.
I listen to trains in Antwerp, and am immediately cured.
I watch local birds until I remember my inner name procured.
I listen to the opera of sunset, if I really want to transcend.
In the end, I do therapy with everything everywhere I go.
I listen until I know
I”m see until I glow.
I put a bumper sticker on my skin so it shows,
And paint on bathroom walls again
We are more than we know-to do therapy
As I go!
I do therapy mainly with angels in my dreams,
But sometimes while playing pool with friends I just met.
Or in the alleyways of the world, where Jesus always show up.
My Healer and I, we do therapy every day.
We collaborate in healing through play!
Just there, a warbler landed near me to steal my French fries-
She and I will be doing some therapy
Just about now.
I do therapy with my wife at night
When we are trying to recall the day
And say, I know your name by heart, love.
I do therapy with the postman who
Is always talking to himself on his phone
But seems so alone.
I do therapy with my neighbor
Who just lost his parents and is building tents
In his basement. I do therapy.
I do therapy by listening well, until I know or…
Simply gazing in love into someone’s eyes.
I do therapy while trying to save a squirrel
Who got hit by a car. I do therapy in any bar.
I do therapy by riding my bike
I do therapy by loving what I like
I do therapy by singing to myself
I do therapy by trying to bless someone else.
I do therapy by taking out my trash
While singing loudly some Johnny Cash
I do therapy by eating what I please
I do therapy daily on my knees.
But I do therapy.
I do therapy mainly
By remembering I’m loved
From something I can’t fully know yet
From above. I do therapy by telling everyone the same—
You too are named
You too are named, claimed and adored. And we
My friend, are all in therapy and nothing more.