Tag Archives: Arts

The way he loves

dentistry-scripture-bit

He sent me flowers, songs, words and tune, silences and chord ; but not till he forgave me and loved me again as if I were the best one e’er born yet, not till then did I understand the height, the depth the width and endless expanse of Love that leaves no boundary

of a Love that covers every little wrong, as if nothing happened at all. I will not take that for granted ever again, nor forget, that’s the way He loves,

He loves…

..

http://raeindia.wordpress.com/2014/01/23/scarred-by-love/

..

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Heavens !

 

How little the dark is, next to Light.

 

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Innerdialects

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Choose Life

( excerpt from Conversations in the TrickRoom as Vi calls our bedroom-  ‘ cuz it makes you not leave :)) she says!)

Last night we watched Life of Pi  : such mixed feelings start to finish. Some one said this was the movie Nirbhaya and her friend watched before the tragedy at the delhi bus dec2013.

The movie has its great moments, stunning play with surreal – realities, words, images… there were some amazing lines too, among places that were fantastic imagery. The island and human tooth of dead man; beautiful dancer Anandi at the place over the sea, Pi’s journey thru’ the storm and other self.  It disappoints though, that it ends with Illusion. How I wish Life were actually like that, and we could all choose prettier endings,among our gods and chosen goddesses.

My daughter Vi ( 19 years old) and I talked into the night, of how we would choose even wings. I mean ones that worked. She asked if I would worry that she went flying everywhere. I said I’d only worry about safety and bigger birds flying around.

The electricity went and returned only at dawn. It rained, rained. We talked about the Dark, and how it could conjure images, depending on what we were thinking. So, you know, we saw all kinds of things, from gleamy eyed monsters to angelic teenagers and moms flying around…

JOIE

JOIE. Oil and Acrylic RN

our bedroom door was ajar, and she looked thru at this one I’ve uploaded here(Painting JOIE) and told me what she saw. It looked different in the dark. There were so many things to see, ‘ what is reflected in your own mind’…

But dawn arrived and with it Light. Hues returned to normal, original, and there’s no playing around with that, wish what one may.

Like Life ; in the Light. Deep within the heart, the truth is in the things we hide. A less- than-one year old knows what guilt is, Granma used to say. Funnily, I heard a new friend say that. She is a die- hard atheist and condemns my sense of God much more violently :))) than I ever discuss her ideas. ” Janie, ” I say, ” for me it’s like having just this one Love in my life. Its not illusional, delusional, my marriage. It is real and faces Life, in the Jaw or wherever, but it is real as the ring on my finger and my postal address.”

” Pah ” Janie replies, sickened at my poetry about God , which she says would actually be marketable if they were basic love poems. ” Why can’t you just write love poems ?” She asks.

” These are love poems,” I reply each time.

” Religious poetry,” She says.

” I don’t have religion.” I say.

This can go on, but for me, I had no choice. The Love of God hounded and found me. Looking at the Life of Pi, at our Nirbhayas and political seasons, our price of living, and fading values, yeahhhh wish we had wings, and all those delusional things, but nah.

The wings we wear are deep inside. JOIE, ” Joy” is not just hormonal – and it impacts Life spans. Impacts decisions. Faith affects Violence. It makes us better or worse leaders/ neighbours/ citizens. Love causes beauty in ashes, can lift, erase, empower more than we give credibility to.

Choices ? Sure. Between Death and Life, choose Life.

( In the book ‘Conversations with God‘ ( I forget the authors name), he states that Right and wrong is Illusional, to the point that Hitler was experiencing a certain set of options,the doing, the actualization of it, was an orbit of Self – Realization, redeemed in layers of ways, following which ofcourse, could annul current Judiciary, why bother. Every rapist, terrorist, erring politician is factually a darling – in – the – making, why react ? Why write/post anything;  everybody just drift in a dead sea of Numb-gaze at these mortal  delusions ;

hey I still choose LIFE, all caps : Will ;  Self Control in driving lanes & Rapists’ lounges ;crime parlours and courts of law. Please Note Movie Makers : EVERYTHING YOU SAY, IS WHAT IS BEING INTERPRETED UNIQUELY BY THE IMPRESSIONABLE MIND, JUSTIFYING HIS/HER ACTIONS OF ‘FREEDOM’ ).

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The heart of you

 

It is so beautiful, your heart

I cannot stop but stare at the beauty of

us. RN oil

Man and woman RN

your heart, the one you hide, didn’t you know

you have such a beautiful life

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Recieve

Two Universes

touched

and diamonds turned,

from dust

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Stunning pictures

Images are forever

please,

do not let pornography spoil it

please…

( and these yukky ads too !)

 

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Our most cruel offender…

” But you must have a good time!” the woman said as we walked out of her little house by the dried lake, a home filled with her late husband’s pictures and souvenirs…

Thresholds. Oil  RN

Thresholds. Oil RN

Jasi Macwana knew Japan like a pet rabbit, had friends from Greece, and Canada and Amsterdam. For the first few moments you would think she was making up a few things, but Jasi had not been a Navy bride for nothing. She had also not lost so much for nothing. (Her words).

I listened with all I had, to the pure joy of this woman.  “No pictures please,” Jasi added firmly (name changed), but you must have a good time..”

Why the emphasis? Was my face sad? Did she see pity in my eyes? I had come in here with my uncle and aunt visiting our city; Jasi was their friend. She insisted we meet again, so I visited a week later not really knowing what to talk about, or ask. The nice thing was she did all the talking, though it hurt to watch her smile through still apparent grief.

There are somethings one will never know right away I guess. As I write this post, I know now, when things happened to Jasi : widowhood, loss of various kinds, she did the one thing human beings do when Life changes. She changed. She let go, with the Faith that she was not alone, that God was with her…

Yeah we know all these things, but to actually “DO” it, to activate the New things that will happen: shift of house and address, change of friends, acceptance of current status, memories re-visited with sweetness not bitter…

“How long did it take you Jasi? “I asked.

She was quiet. Her face filled with quiet tears, memories and somethings I have no names for. After what felt like 10 minutes, she softly said, “It takes a while. But you decide to have a good time, you must take care of yourself too. You are that friend you’ve got, this body is a temple of the Living God. You cannot abuse it by giving up, you must not steal its’ right to a beautiful Life..”

Then she gave me a small print red leather, slightly used Bible (I have many at home, I love the Bible, for me its Numero Uno Best Seller, but I accepted Jasi’s gift with a humility that was new. I am knocked out by her passion for life. Her thirst for peace with herself, and the world now given to her, her love for God who is to her, very very real;

as I write this, one sentence stands out, “You are the Temple of the Living God… ”  (not a sentence you can get over in a hurry 🙂

 Am stunned at our power to de-value / desecrate our-self,
and at how we could stall our own healing.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
(Not in connect with what was just written here, but as I posted the above artwork, I found Daniel R’s comment and it stalled me > Daniel has passed on to the other world this year, and I salute the brave warm and wonderful man he will always be. Thank you Daniel Russell for this comment I somehow never replied to on FB> Forgive me, thank you, and a hug for being so inspiring, always…
Daniel Russell This is a very Unique Style of Art Work. Its all your own! I love it!
.…..
remembering people left behind, and how brave they are,
innerdialects

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..that rascal inside

 

 

It was always that one question –

to Dance or not to Dance :

in the Rain, in the sun-storm

on stage, flood lights,

riding tides,

in season and out,

with, without – my heart, my soul, 

what will it be,

what will It want, do I know ? Am I in

control, of my own thought,

no ? Dear God, then what is in

charge –

Did I throw away my freedom to

that  rascal inside

screaming

me me me

meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

 

 

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INTIMACIES

THIS SILENCE IS 

NOT QUIET, THIS PLACE NO LONGER

ALONE, YOU LEAD ME BESIDE

DESERTS AND SEASONS I CANNOT RE-ARRANGE, 

YEAH, THOUGH THAT IS SO, 

YOUR

ILLUSIVE-TRUTHS, SO SWIFTLY

EMPTY MY DESERTS

INSIDE. 

I NEVER SAW INNER DIMENSIONS BEFORE, NOT 

HERE, NOT ANYWHERE..

 

 

innerdialects

© Oleg Shel
http://fb.com/ArtPics.tv http://instagr.am/ArtPx

Photo: © Oleg Shelhttp://fb.com/ArtPics.tv http://instagr.am/ArtPx#ArtPics #Art #Photo #Photography #Pictures #Pics

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Faith that can move a mountain

..

faith that can make me see the impossible, 

that is faith. Else it is not faith

at all.

……

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