Sandy

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Under the Tempest lives Prospero.

When my heart is particularly touched to draw, I sometimes turn the photo upside down, and draw it upside down, then turn it round and finish it.  Seems a different region of my brain comes into play, and my drawings done this way, are more honest: the proportions are better.  When I went up to Waitrose yesterday, and saw this photo in the paper, I cried.  It said everything.  I cannot say why.

Here in England, we are a fraction the size of the United States, and the things which happen to us are correspondingly on a smaller scale.  Sandy was a thousand miles across, leaving scenes resembling the tsunami in Japan:  our Great Storm during the night of 16/17 October ’87 was perhaps 50 to a hundred miles wide, at its full strength.

I was drawing before, during and after it.  So I attach below, my picture gallery of this sequence, in solidarity.

There can be nothing more terrifying than Natures apparent malignancy, unleashed against our lives, homes and loved ones – perhaps even more than man’s inhumanity to man.  For Nature is the only reliable home we have.

Symbols abound – political, ecological and of history, during our era of the tipping point; and not one person’s private thread is unaffected.

Here is not my time or place to opinionate or discuss these symbols;  except one.  As we cross from one temporal Great Circle of the “Mayan-calender” into another, (as if through an hourglass) it is curious that the East coast hurricane got re-christened “Sandy” even before the waves arrived.  The waves threw great drifts of sand over the streets of New Jersey.   The only thing wise to say with any certainty, is that Sandy is a wake up call, wake up from the national dream:  it changes the patterns and fates, and moves them differently through each other.  There are breaches;   unexpected reconciliations occur also, in a concerted effort to mend and rebuild the human landscape.

During our English October storm in ’87, I was viscerally aware of an “alchemical process” stirring under the blast.   To discover the meaning, if any, we need to look below the turbulence.   Under the tempest lives Prospero.

Prospero is not only the guardian of spiritual wealth and heritage, but also the human factor awakened in cataclysm, to draw together, face harsh truths, assist and console one another. Prospero tames and teaches Caliban.

My drawings in ’87 were aware of the approaching storm, before I was.  I was emotionally asleep, along with the infamous weather forecast;   the sketches from my subconscious, were awake.

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Before the Tempest

Before the storm ’87 

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anxiety ’87 

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Welcome across? ’87 

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the day before … ’87

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After the Storm

… and the day after. ’87

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Monster nightmare, or Wake Up ’87

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The Wounded Isis Tree ’87

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King Lear – “Blow winds and crack your cheeks!” ’87

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Gust ’87

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Carnage ’87

… and praise Those that Stood ’87

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Destinies and fates thrown across each other ’87

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Prospero

Shelter ’87

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Ancient voices and wisdom begin to emerge:  Prospero ’87

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Forage ’87

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Storm’s inner alchemy:  a crucible of peace ’87

The living trees and civilizations around Earth’s crust share a common root, the crucible of the core.

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Dragon & Mother Isis ’87 

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Mary Gaia with baby, 1956

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Whatever the outcome:

No one who leads a land, is superman.  He or she contends with too many conflicting self interests in government, and strives to keep a firm middle road.

If he is lucky, he keeps his integrity and his honesty, and is not afraid to declare his limitations openly.  No change happens overnight. Nor is change brought about by just one four-year term of “Yes We Can.”  “Yes we can” needs to complete the process, through all the “no we won’t” resistances to it.  That takes courage.

The winds of change we witnessed this week, are a stern picture;  the storm accelerates our vision.  Hurricane Sandy on earth is a tangible warning, as is perceived all round the planet, from the higher plane.  Besides destruction and tragedy, it blows out the cobwebs, and a much further horizon may clarify.  Each Tempest, in a single soul, as in a nation, contains a seer, or transforming power.

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My adventure invites fellow travellers.  I am a poet, an artist and a seer.  I welcome conversation among the PHILO SOFIA, the lovers of wisdom.

This blog is  a vehicle to promote my published work – The Sacred India Tarot (with Rohit Arya, Yogi Impressions Books) and The Dreamer in the Dream – a collection of short stories (0 Books) – along with many other creations in house.  

I write, illustrate, design and print my books.   Watch this space.

7 thoughts on “Sandy

  1. Your sketches from the subconscious in `87 were indeed “awake” . Sandy is Nature`s attempt at showing us that humankind`s abuse cannot continue ,
    Gaia she is now getting angry . I think the drawings are amazingly descriptive. The drawings depict the futility of Mammon in the eye of the storm . making the viewer gasp . The tree rent wide open is indeed a stroke of genius !
    .

    • Thanks Della, your comments often give me a fresh angle on what I just wrote or saw. The Isis tree rent open, was sketched on the spot, at a street corner in Netherhall Gardens NW3, near Freud’s house! So were many of the others – wandering round Hampstead Heath in the aftermath. I really did feel proud of the trees which still stood. During the night when the storm was at its height, my daughter and I walked out in it for a short while. The streets were pitch dark, with the swish of falling branches.

  2. What a beautiful expression of the love and chaos that storms can bring. Your drawing of President Obama and the older woman was very touching for me too.

    Thank you for all these wonderful blogposts. I always learn something and feel the touch of your beautiful heart.

    Love,, Love….

      • Ah, well thank you 🙂 That is very kind of you. And thank you for you comments as well (which I am behind on in responding to! — Some days & weeks there just isn’t the time that I would like to have to check in on my blogs and post new essays or pieces or respond to comments. But I will catch up!

        Warmest regards,

        John

  3. Pingback: We trust you, Sir | Aquariel

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