Inside Your Painting (Patty Larkin)

[ Plumbing update: As promised, my husband is now home dealing with the situation - LDG (Leak Detection Guy/Kenny) has already come and determined the leak is now to the *left* of where originally determined (closer to the shower, as opposed to under the vanity). Al (not Joe)the plumber should be coming out later to re-evaluate the two options (see post of a few days ago), at which point we'll determine which route to take - long story short: sounds as if I'll be getting a new bathroom out of this, whether we or homeowners insurance pay. Relate, relax, release - more tomorrow... ]

I don't consider myself an artist per se (yeah, I make a h*lla mix tape/CD... and amazing soups... and inventive collages, oh my!), but I do seem to be surrounded by those who are... and take delight in recognizing their gifts and paying them forward - today's blog post is dedicated, with sincere gratitude, to all those friends (old and new) who open my eyes, color my world and provide the soundtrack to my rich and delicious life... <3

Daily Om
October 15, 2008
Sharing Your Genius
Your Special Gift

Each of us is born with a specific genius that was bestowed upon us so we can do our part to make this world a better place. All of us have a role that we’re uniquely suited for. Imagine our planet without trees, oceans, or clouds. In this same way, when one of us doesn’t develop or use our special gift, a cosmic void takes place.

This unique talent or ability may be hidden from your own sight like a golden treasure buried under shifting sands. Often, we spend so much time dazzled by the talents of others that we can overlook our own gifts. It may even be that our unique ability is something we view negatively. Perhaps we find it difficult concentrating on any one subject for long; meanwhile, others are thrilled by our ability to weave various ideas throughout our conversations. Or, you might think of yourself as “frivolous,” when it’s likely your charming approach to life casts a light of inspiration that others can’t help but follow. It’s important for all of us to try to find our special gift and discover how we can best express it. Ask others to name what they think is your most overlooked talent or character trait. Their answers may change your life.

Explore these riches that are yours to express, and you may find yourself helping others discover and develop their own blessings. Acknowledge and appreciate the gifts you see in those around you. Tell your neighbor that loves to garden how much her green thumb enlivens the whole block. Thank your coworker for always greeting your days together with a smile. Tell your close friends that their ability to listen makes your world a better place. Our unique gifts are like golden rays of expression that can encircle the world with light.

SONG: Inside Your Painting by Patty Larkin

BOOK: Learning to Love You More by Harrell Fletcher, Miranda July

POEM: Instructions to Painters & Poets by Lawrence Ferlinghetti

I asked a hundred painters and a hundred poets
how to paint sunlight
on the face of life
Their answers were ambiguous and ingenuous
as if they were all guarding trade secrets
Whereas it seems to me
all you have to do
is conceive of the whole world
and all humanity
as a kind of art work
a site-specific art work
an art project of the god of light
the whole earth and all that's in it
to be painted with light

And the first thing you have to do
is paint out postmodern painting
And the next thing is to paint yourself
in your true colors
in primary colors
as you seem them
(without whitewash)
paint yourself as you see yourself
without make-up
without masks
Then paint your favorite people and animals
with your brush loaded with light
And be sure you get the perspective right
and don't fake it
because one false line leads to another

And then paint the high hills
when the sun first strikes them
on an autumn morning
With your palette knife
lay it onthe cadmium yellow leaves
the ochre leaves
the vermillion leaves
of a New England autumn
And paint the ghost light of summer nights
and the light of the midnight sun
which is moon light
And don't paint out the shadows made by light

for without chiaroscuro you'll have shallow pictures
So paint all the dark corners too
everywhere in the world
all the hidden places and minds and hearts
which light never reaches
all the caves of ignorance and fear
the pits of despair
the sloughs of despond
and write plain upon them
"Abandon all despair, ye who enter here"

And don't forget to paint
all those who lived their lives
as bearers of light
Paint their eyes
and the eyes of every animal
and the eyes of beautiful women
known best for the perfection of their breasts
and the eyes of men and women
known only for the light of their minds
Paint the light of their eyes
the light of sunlit laughter
the song of eyes
the song of birds in flight

And remember that the light is within
if it is anywhere
and you must paint from the inside
Start with purity
with pure white
the pure white of gesso
the pure white of cadmium white
the pure white of flake white
the pure virgin canvas
the pure life we all begin with

Turner painted sunlight
with egg tempera
(which proved unstable)
and Van Gogh did it with madness
and the blood of his ear
(also unstable)
and the Impressionists did itby never using black
and the Abstract Expressionists did it
with white house paint
But you can do it with the pure pigment
(if you can figure out the formula)
of your own true light
But before you strike the first blow
on the virgin canvas
remember its fragility
life's extreme fragility
and remember its innocence
its original innocence
before you strike the first blow

Or perhaps never strike it
And let the light come through
the inner light of the canvas
the inner light of the models posed
in the life study
the inner light of everyone
Let it all come through
like a pentimento
the light that's been painted over
the life that's been painted over
so many times
Let it all surge to the surface
the painted-over image
of primal life on earth

And when you've finished your painting
stand back astonished
stand back and observe
the life on earth that you've created
the lighted life on earth
that you've created
a new brave world

QUOTE: "To send light into the darkness of men's hearts - such is the duty of the artist." ~ Robert Schumann

Coming Up for Air (Patty Larkin)

SONG: Coming Up for Air by Patty Larkin

BOOK: Overboard by Hank Searls

POEM: Learning to Float by April Lindner

Relax. It's like love. Keep your lips

moist and parted, let your upturned hands

unfold like water lilies, palms exposed.

Breathe deeply, slowly. Forget chlorine

and how the cement bottom was stained

blue so the water looks clear

and Caribbean. Ignore the drowned mosquitoes,

the twigs that gather in the net

of your hair. The sun is your ticket,

your narcotic, blessing your chin,

the floating islands of your knees.

Shut your eyes and give yourself

to the pulsating starfish, purple and red,

that flicker on your inner lids.

Hallucination is part of the process,

like amnesia. Forget how you learned

to swim, forget being told

Don't panic. Don't worry. Let go

of my neck. It's only water. Don't think

unless you're picturing Chagall,

his watercolors of doves and rooftops,

lovers weightless as tissue,

gravity banished, the dissolving voices

of violins and panpipes. The man's hand

circles the woman's wrist so loosely,

what moors her permits her to float,

and she rises past the water's skin,

above verandas and the tossing heads

of willows. Her one link to earth,

his light-almost reluctant-touch, is a rope

unfurling, slipping her past the horizon,

into the cloud-stirring current. This far up,

what can she do but trust he won't let go?

QUOTE: "Marriage is not a love affair. A love affair has to do with immediate personal satisfaction. Marriage is an ordeal; it means yielding, time and again. That’s why it’s a sacrament: you give up your personal simplicity to participate. And you are not giving to the other person; you are giving to the relationship. Because you are not giving to the other person, it is not impoverishing — it is life-building, life-fostering, enriching." ~ Joseph Campbell

The Book I'm Not Reading (Patty Larkin)

SONG: The Book I'm Not Reading by Patty Larkin

BOOK: 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die by Peter Ackroyd (Foreword), Peter Boxall (Editor)

POEM: I'M WORKING ON THE WORLD by Wistawa Szymborska

I'm working on the world,

revised, improved edition,

featuring fun for fools,

blues for brooders,

combs for bald pates,

tricks for old dogs.

Here's one chapter: The Speech

of Animals and Plants.

Each species comes, of course,

with its own dictionary.

Even a simple "Hi there,"

when traded with a fish,

make both the fish and you

feel quite extraordinary.

The long-suspected meanings

of rustlings, chirps, and growls!

Soliloquies of forests!

The epic hoot of owls!

Those crafty hedgehogs drafting

aphorisms after dark,

while we blindly believe

they are sleeping in the park!

Time (Chapter Two) retains

its sacred right to meddle

in each earthly affair.

Still, time's unbounded power

that makes a mountain crumble,

moves seas, rotates a star,

won't be enough to tear

lovers apart: they are

too naked, too embraced,

too much like timid sparrows.

Old age is, in my book,

the price that felons pay,

so don't whine that it's steep:

you'll stay young if you're good.

Suffering (Chapter Three)

doesn't insult the body.

Death? It comes in your sleep,

exactly as it should.

When it comes, you'll be dreaming

that you don't need to breathe;

that breathless silence is

the music of the dark

and it's part of the rhythm

to vanish like a spark.

Only a death like that. A rose

could prick you harder, I suppose;

you'd feel more terror at the sound

of petals falling to the ground.

Only a world like that. To die

just that much. And to live just so.

And all the rest is Bach's fugue, played

for the time being

on a saw.

QUOTE: "For books are more than books, they are the life, the very heart and core of ages past, the reason why men lived and worked and died, the essence and quintessence of their lives." ~ Amy Lowell

Might As Well Dance (Patty Larkin)

I'm going out this evening to celebrate the May birthdays of two friends, albeit a bit belatedly - then again, we Leos feel we have a birth *month* so there's no such thing as too soon, too late or too frequently. I'm known for my themed mix CDs (that's a story for another time) and, as a joke present, I've made N a compilation of all cake songs (including MacArthur Park, the Beatles' Birthday, I Will Survive by the group Cake... and Sarah McLachlan's Ice Cream as the middle track) - long story short is that last May, N broke her foot and we had to bring the party to her and, because I had a house full of company due to my youngest's high school graduation, another friend organized the get-together and... forgot to buy a cake! N has not let us live it down for the last 12 months and I'm bound and determined she'll be on Cake overload this year - I even persuaded Fresh Market to give me an empty cake box so I can put N's present in it... :-)

SONG: Might As Well Dance by Patty Larkin

BOOK: The Secret Language of Birthdays by Gary Goldschneider and Joost Elffers

POEM: Crossroads by Joyce Sutphen

The second half of my life will be black
to the white rind of the old and fading moon.
The second half of my life will be water
over the cracked floor of these desert years.
I will land on my feet this time,
knowing at least two languages and who
my friends are. I will dress for the
occasion, and my hair shall be
whatever color I please.

Everyone will go on celebrating the old
birthday, counting the years as usual,
but I will count myself new from this
inception, this imprint of my own desire.
The second half of my life will be swift,
past leaning fenceposts, a gravel shoulder,
asphalt tickets, the beckon of open road.
The second half of my life will be wide-eyed,
fingers shifting through fine sands,
arms loose at my sides, wandering feet.

There will be new dreams every night,
and the drapes will never be closed.
I will toss my string of keys into a deep
well and old letters into the grate.
The second half of my life will be ice
breaking up on the river, rain
soaking the fields, a hand
held out, a fire,
and smoke going
upward, always up.

QUOTE: "If trouble is all you're looking for then trouble is all you'll find. The only difference between a rut and a groove is your state of mind." ~ my August 2003 birthday card from Mosh