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Finding my keys

Ukrainian Musical Instrument

Ukrainian Musical Instrument (Photo credit: Canadian Pacific)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Taya plays too many musical instruments for one human, that young, but when you get close and read between the lines you see he has been to at least 7 countries and met so many people. Which really does not explain all his musical instruments, still, it explains a few things :

 

the way Taya listens. With curiosity and humility, I have not seen that before.

 

With tolerance and anticipation.

 

With appetite for more, as if you had something to offer he needed. We talked about flowers and illusions, cats, dogs, voting, national highways and tourist destinations. He loves Tibet, forests and the Maldive islands where he wrote his new batch of songs, he says.

 

“Creation is a great big musical instrument, like an organ : we need to find its keys…”

 

 

 

Did he just make that up…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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“ENGINEERING IS THE HIGHEST LEVEL OF ART”

Hi,

(via mobile )

I am Sooraj,an Engineering student and am

soooo passionate about my art ! ….

strange dat an artist took diz field…. ???

SOORAJ BABU

SOORAJ BABU

‘coz I believe…

 

Engineering is the highest level of art ,  am sure i can do somethng here  : Dedicate something in d Field of Mechanical  Engg thru my artistic skill & do my People and Educators proud…

 

"Sooraj

 

 

Am from a middle  class family from Kerala Palakkad district. Mom, Dad and my sweet sister. I’m  sooo thnkful to God coz of ma lovely parentz,   becoz of  them  I could become an artist.

 

 

Dedicated to my friends.Sooraj B

Dedicated to my friends.
Sooraj B

 

 

Childhood waz colourfulll….with  storiez i gt from my mom and grandma…..also the beautiful landscapz of our villlage made me wonder evn in my childhood…

 

Colours from yesterday, waiting for new...SB

Colours from yesterday, waiting for new…
SB

 

..actualy diz made me a greaaaaat lover of nature…..i started  to love rain trees river sun moon animalz birdzzz and allllllllll:)…..

 

.

<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />

 

 

… slowly bcm a good observr of nature.  simple thingz lik the song of bird, glittrng of watrdrop at the tip of leavez,  the amzng colour scheme of sky and allllll….this awakened the  artist in me …

 

 

Sooraj New work in water colour

 

 

bcm an Observr of nature.  simple thingz lik the song of bird, glittrng of watrdrop at the tip of leavez,  the amzng colour scheme of sky and allllll….this awakened the  artist in me …

……am littil sad becuz  i still didnt conduct an exibition of my workz…...but i nvr stop Painting coz wat to say…. mmmmm itz lik my breath:)………………

 

 

THRU THE RAIN

THRU THE RAIN

 

this year i willl try ma level best to conduct an exibition smwer fa sureee:)……..and am also doing some art related part time jobs like jwelry designing , taking clasz fa kidzz etc……Am still waiting for oportunitiez  lik illustation of bookz, cartoonz, cover designingz etc…Love to sell my paintingz  / buy paintz and canvas  fa myself……heheheh…..

………………………………………………………………………About our country:::

 

 

itz too hard for an young artist to get recgntn here….and am totaly disturbed with all d HORRIBLE  thngz hapning n our country against women……espialyyy wt d hpningz n delhi recently…..the thng dat in every 19 minutz a girl z brutaly gt rapd n indiaaaa waz toooo shoking and shamfullllll…….poverty…corruption…..and alll diz must be eradicated. I LOVE MY Nation a lotttttttttt<3

Sooraj_b92@yahoo.com……

……………………………………………………………………………………………………..

 

 

Innerdialect :

 

Sooraj Babu inspires me personally, to never give up. Am impressed by his  brilliance with watercolour works  : ( the pic of his ” Bridge” would not upload, so do visit the link that appears).

This Page is dedicated to People like Sooraj Babu who appreciate family, environment, childhood, friends, educators, hard work ; people who love their country, their women and families, who would say it like it is –

in a land of 1.20 billion, a young person stares thru’ indifference, doing what he can, between college hours, water colour, an FB account and friends on the Net, at home, his world filled with nature, people, good, bad, ugly, but he looks at the natural…just think what he can do for his nation   if we would let him.

If we would take a moment to appreciate people : whether they are making Bridges, chairs, paintings, food, if they are moms and das, if they are your sister, or class mate, what a difference it would make…

 

Thank you for reading this, have a great day.

 

 

ID

INNERDIALECT.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

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2012 Year of Harvest

HARVESTER:OIL R Noel

Yeah I declare a Year of Harvest

yeah Breaking

into Day, staring back at atrocity

I dare!

‘Enough, ‘ yells  my heart and spirit mind,

same

I leave behind:

those Fields of Stolen Time

and decay.

Ageing Babies,

torn out

cities;

Now

I scream, standing with breaking feet

on Promises You wrote ‘neath

Our Name :

may our barns overflow,

our arms ache with the joy-ache of giving away!

May our spouse and off-spring

English: Tree bark with embedded in .

Oh may our cattle and earth sing:

‘this is the day of the harvest we  dreamt of,’

as we sank by the rivers of Babylon,

where we prayed, e’en believed

there was no God : Ah sweet spirit

inside, may Goodness and Mercy,

trespass into our stolen Fields of Time;

Alias Stencil-Artworks, Noel and others

restore the Smiles we traded

for nothing.

Ah Sweet-sighing Pilgrim we  thought no one ever heard

those prayers we  closeted with yesterdays’

barbed-wire Yards;

A group of Japanese captured during the Battle...

yesterdays' songs in barbed wire yards

a New Year began, now nothings the same,

"Same Same but Different"

Nothing’s ever the Same,

There is a Season for everything under the sun,

a Time to die and Live again

and again and again.

Those Words  sown yesterday, today

have broken

Ground : why did we doubt

why did we doubt

sweet spirit mine.

Say ?

Yeah, am

no longer shiver-liver coward,

Lord this Field is Breaking

Broken

into   2012nd Day.

( From Too Late to Look Back Too much : innerdialect/ impressions  Psalms : Joy in the Morning, tho’ last night was deep just don’t forget to weed!)

R N

Sweet Honey in the Rock live at Ravinia

Sweet Honey in the Rock

R N

Deutsch: Moosbeeren-Ernte in New Jersey. Engli...

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“Nothing is impossible..”

Less is more ; I understand that best barefoot. in highplaces and others.Try it.

It is still possible to:Startle giants, sleeping within.Like laughter. Little Joys. Memories of Gratitude. Childhood.Villages in the mind,unbridled hobbies.Healing.

 

Friendships in unlikely places. Inter lingual associations. Holidays. Hope.Anticipation.Surprise.The Unknown. Worlds within. Other selfs. Selves ? Questions. Answers.Uncomfortable answers to well known questions….

Dear Lord, thoughts I do not know am thinking. Unlikely events. Short cuts, the longer route home. Denial. Acceptance. Silence. Races.Winning. Losing. Running. Trying. falling. Crashing. Rising. Winds.New words. Non words.Temptations. Attempts.Fatigue. Delirium. Beauty. Ashes.Dust. Sunlight. Light.Flight.Chaos. Madness. Sane- ness. Alone ness. Together ness.

So much ; little gestures.Kisses. Time. Freeze. Eternity.Pieces. Invisibility.Ability.Vision.Senses.Grabbing.Gripping. Fear.Panic, hate, absence of that.Love. Gentlenesses. Breakage. Repair. Life. Death. Thresholds. Culture. Shock. Balance.

Imbalance. Even That. Dear sweet Lord, even that…..tastes good. Baffled. By all my sleeping giants, running barefoot with me and these words, like swords.

(Do we still get bored? Defeated? )

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I do not want just another Christmas :)

BONDAGE BREAKER.  Oil Paint RN

This December,  may nothing nothing nothing

steal our freedom to be what we are meant to.

Ah, what a bunch of  Universe right there.

 

( So many miracles this month, so we wanted some more and wrote that above !  Hey smiling wide and gratitude !!!! It always works.)

……………………………………………………….

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Loving you is the best thing.. adopt a human this christmas

Beloved,

THE SECRET PLACE, oil, RN

… our children. One day you will grow up, I may not be there, or just might  : an old thing, sitting in the sun balcony peering at whats  to cherish..

This Christmas you are still too little to understand this, so maybe am writing this for me. Jay your little hands in the christmas tree, feeling around the bauble and pine, laughing at these little lights ; yes its the first time you ve done this, and am proud as proud can be, at the miles we’ve done here, often alone, so alone.

Catrina, the stars you’ve made , out of paper and tinsel dust, spikey lil sassy stars / the little cards of love everywhere, ” love you Dadda love you Dean love you Ma…”

Dean our ‘natural born’ teaching you two lil ones songs for the music competition. Noe and I watched you three, each so different, so uniquely beautiful. Dean dark eyed and lissome,Catrina silken haired and six dimpled, Jay : blind and brimming with humor..

tears and laughter have crashed in this christmas. No lists of all the goodies we could never get you this year, just the growing ” Thank you Lord” ones filling every room and corridor, every wardrobe and dish. Am remembering praying that Catrina would walk and the pnemonia would leave. It did, the purr in the chest finally left. The scars on her leg shrank into a lil C. C for Christ we said often worriedly, when she asked.

Jay, angel eyes we declared, shrinking inside at the horrors of blindness.. Oh Lord what an angel. Stashed with humor and a  parents’ dream come true.

Dean, beautiful daughter : and sister : never never allowing me to raise my voice at the lil ones. Complaining if they were noisy, but always there when  they were hurt ; our beautiful teenager, oh  the words here crumble …

No Lord, I have nothing left to ask You for Christmas. Just gratitude. Every hurt only yielded to more Faith. Every denial crashes in a weirdly quenching gallon of strength. Am saying weirdly, because face it, this whole “faith” game is kind of weird. Lights in the dark ! Seeing the Unseen! Faith the evidence of things Unseen, so that what was seen was made out of things Invisible. Hmm  we all talk about it. Love Gurus and Universities of the Law of Attraction… so am saying it out loud. I believe in things Unseen, things thought impossible. That dreams come true, maybe not what we expected, maybe something better. Yeah yeah, seriously. I have results, and am sharing. I just know theres someone reading this, who matters to God.

Thank you I realise are the two most expensive words. They have a way of reminding one to fret over things yet to happen.

Today though I want to say this : when I am weak, Your Strength shows best. The bitter turns to sweet, flowers I still cannot see blossom in this valley, their fragrance intoxicating my death with Life. Shutting up my mutter. Your Power intrudes, breaking in thru closed doors and blasting stubborn Rock with Streams of  Life.Your Health breaks thru skin, duelling  Life like a two edged sword.. cutting thru bone and marrow, to the secret place where we  just maybe, do not know we live.

Ah and how we live, deep down there. Neath all Protests and Fuss. Temporary Sweeteners and Charade.  The Games we play, the promises we think we can keep on our own… oh erghghgh!

No Lord, on my own I’d have sunk this ship. Collapsed castles maybe…

With You on board this wild place springs with the gape mouthed  wahhhh! of  new things ;  even Hope. As I write this, my hands tremble to think I’ll never know who is reading this. A confused  parent, a lost child, an adopted family, a refugee of sorts. Christmas is a lonely time for some of us  …

It needn’t be. I close my eyes with you, and look at the miles we’ve done. Did we really think we’ve been alone? Say ?

Or. Maybe and often, being in that lonesome place, is not such a bad deal. I find me there. The real me.  Sometimes I balk. Sometimes I shrink away. But in this secret place, there is new beginning. The unseen me no one else can activate. Trust me, no one else.

Here I find joy, laughter and strength. Its the easiest place to reject. Thats the sad part. I should know, have done it almost all my life. We fall, hook line and sinker for the trappings, the thrills and spills, grabbing crumbs when we can have it all.

This time round, am trying. Look at the real stuff. Measure the miles done. The  real people who matter. Love’s labour. Blessings. Favour stashed away in little hugs and lopsided home made stars, prayers waiting in the wings, and little blind eyes reflecting light…

Yeah, sigh, not everything is understood, not everything is good, or pure or lovely. Often there are no returns, the path crooked, or my feet betray me..

yet one thing remains. The greatest. Love. Mama Teresa Quote, ” .. in the Final evaluation, I will not be asked what I did, but what I did with Love..”

Yes ma’am, I could move mountains thru faith and sing like angel, I could give it all away to the poor and make such a noise about justice, but if I did it for love of self or name, uh oh… what good is that. Or to be seen or mentioned in Guiness books and Parliament moves.. . what good would all this festivity be if am a smile-eraser, if I cook that meal with suffering silence, or hold your hand here just to be noticed.

Scares me to think, if I do not have love, am naked, blind, wretched poor. Orphaned.

oh dear lord… I hope this Post reads real..

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

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each time i say the hesitant word

i am beyond your  mile and must wait

your clock to reschedule its necessarybetween then nd now

– vacant time ; i know i never know your

sets of rules : Yours. Mine.

So I’ll never  say those words again,

at some point a person must remember

when to leave, cuz somethings do

remain ;

Our minds returned differently;

i am beyond your  mile and must wait

your clock to reschedule its necessary vacant time

You re never here / permanently;

I’m where you want me, far away;

so here I stay, a page turned,

a story run its life, a harbour filled with sand ;

did you know we see so clear

in a tear filled eye..

<  my friends do be well..survivors 08

Posted by  Lyrics&Life each time i say the hesitant word.

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indefinitions: i have no intelligent words

 i have no intelligent words

when 

grey dawn

breaks into light

adapted from

Lyrics & Life, VALLEY OF LIGHT  24″x36″l/acrylc RN

( yeah theres more to this than we know  / that doesn’t make our questing, the final answer. Nor does it negate words like Faith.  Some of us write, not to impress ; this is a space that is honest. …to provoke ..esp me. Time is so short…not long enough to explain the qualities of Light. …

Theres more to this, than just this…

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Your life like a watered garden .. / from naked prayers He heard

“Jar of Oil ” Acrylic/oil 12″x8″ Rnoel

“jar of oil ”  oil/acrylic, rnoel, 12″x8″

c’mon shake that dust off your feet

‘wake my soul, sing:

dress up, put on your best,                                                                                                  yeah i know its been bad,

but this time, deep within, a river flows thru your emptiness-

the oil of gladness : let it flow,

your jar will  never run dry,  nor your bowl empty, He said,                                          Hey RISE.

Today, Belief and Laughter raced eachother in ; and when no one watched, I kneel knelt to pray knowing before this sun sets,  we ..  will find extreme jars with overflow oil > grace.  .. How does Faith happen?   The assurance of  things hoped for / evidence of things unseen ..

Ask like an Inheritor, not a Beggar, unless  we don’t know who we are,

anymore –

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The very thing you lost…

Manifestacija Dani Ad Turresa u Crikvenici

Image via Wikipedia

to read /  at The Artist in You  :” The very thing you lost..could bring you gain….

Have you ever done a CBBD (confirmed bad-biz-deal)? OK, if you are anything like me you have, at least once.

Shan’t go into details but this painting and two others (a series of three), created for a ‘friend’, were my first real water colour offerings to the world of ‘commissions’…

“Mindfields” went to their new owner, wrapped in butter paper and much love; they taught me to value the work of my hands. Never, never take for granted ..

So….here I am, taking inventory. There’s this growing grin inside. Wordless, nameless, images form; streams in the valley, a way in the wilderness…gaining through losing, cliches, everyone of them…piecing together what no loss can defy.

Dear sweet heavens. The very thing you lost could heave in returns? Awareness; Faith; Restoration; the knowledge of an unsinkable power within to create…?

The Price Tag : C O N S I S T E N C Y .


“Mindfields”
Watercolour
© Rayla Noel

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