World Ends for Elevenses

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At 11 11 GMT, (which being British, is Best) yesterday, my companion-in-the-Work and I made a nice cup of tea, stopped talking, and enjoyed together the latest Big Bang.

Steven Isserlis & friends rehearse Messiaen's Quartet for the End of Time at Wigmore Hall in '88

Steven Isserlis & friends rehearse Messiaen’s Quartet for the End of Time at Wigmore Hall in ’88

What a great day!   Everything is ROUND, like the Mayan calender.  I even got a snowball from Israel – (my cher ami’s family) – and threw one back to them:

rebbe & rebbetzin celebrate Yule

rebbe & rebbetzin celebrate Yule

This drawing was done back in the naughty 90s, but my dear Ex in it (currently in India)  looks rather like my cher ami now! –  but has more hair.

OK Xmas cracker:   now for my usual SERIOUS STUFF.

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Fool 0 Hermetic tarot

Fool 0 Hermetic tarot

I sleep better this week, and woke this morning with a vivid impression of two long electric cables being plugged in – (to me?) – blue and yellow.   These colours were in something I saw or thought of, recently.   Anyway, they are the colour tones of the Priestess and the Magician/Strength/Fool.   Priestess and Fool are my old partnership.   Blue and yellow irises:  buttercups and blue sky – the colour recipe some people use to go to sleep with –    remember that.

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Priestess 2 Hermetic tarot

Priestess 2 Hermetic tarot

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Today has that winter grey feeling, Xmas chores are done (except Slippers and Calender) and I might go snuggle with cher ami this afternoon, and watch strictly tinsel on TV.   I feel as if every tree is covered with snow.  It is raining.

In the world are many disappointed dressed up persons with nowhere to go.  The Great Moment passed and nothing happened.  The Great Moment has informed my psyche in recent years, because I am sensitive to the collective astral pulse and its themes behind the heartbeat.   That meant my little “me” subscribed to some of the nonsense, and felt apprehensive, and blogged like mad.

It is so beautiful the way the symbols cohered yesterday, and gently touched – especially Paul’s xmas card for me, with all its Circles and Eyes, like raindrops.

The Great Moment is now, and passing through all the time.

The Companions of the Light and of crop circles, set up 11.11.21.12  End of Mayan Time, as a joke – to give all the humans a tension buildup, whose relaxation helps us behave a bit better to each other …  the relief of a belief.   It was in the collective subconscious.  Of course, most of us pooh poohed it and went about our business, but it was there all the same, the butt of many a bad legpull.  And for the gun-psychosis victims in the States, their parents’ world ended just the week before.   The agony.

Those children, those souls were “taken out” abruptly.   Many interesting souls died in 2012.   They are precise, creative placements on the membrane’s other side.  A child’s sudden removal is a bud taken in full fruit.   Some of them were advanced souls, and their brief of birth was not to blur their spirit-level with the problems of life.   They incarnated just enough to get earthed, be loved, and acquire some language;  then go back behind the veil and do their job.   Those children now are strong.  But it is not sufficient for their grieving parents to join self-interested séances.  The grieving parents have to grow, to realise their child is in the Life Stream for their own and the human evolution, through the tipping point.   And contact.   Aquarius is the contact with the whole human ocean around the globe – experientially, scientifically, cybernetically and spiritually.  Touch hands.

in touch 20.12.87

in touch 20.12.87

As consciousness, none of us are born.  None of us die.  We are in eternal connection.

The soul is an infinitely wider landscape than the small presentation of it which births into a family’s love, upbringing, school, abuse, and adult Karma.   Rapidly those little ones with their irreplacible gap-tooth smiles, shot through the veil, and now are transpersonal Counsellors.   The many sudden and “meaningless deaths” of loved-ones, increase the Manifestation of the Wise, as Aquarius dawns and lifts the dust.  For those little children are ancient Ones.

I have yet to experience the traumatic death of a loved one.  All the deaths I have been with so far, have been at a ripe old age, or ready and willing to go;  so they were celebrations.   My parents are still alive.  I am nearly 64.  I don’t know how I shall feel when they go.   BUT – I used to dream again and again, that my baby daughter died.  I even tried to dig her up.  Those were recurrent nightmares of streaming, shattering, unbearable loss and grief.  THE GRAVE.

In my last life, she was aborted from me;  my cells have the memory. It is said that I, as young Sarah, died in 1895 at 48, from ovarian cancer, which is grief.   It fully tasted me.

The antipodean seer who told me this in 2010, was reading my Akasha records quite accurately at that time.  Then a moment came when for various reasons, he could no longer do so. He had been going to give me all the details.   He wrote and told me not to correspond with him any more.

In this lifetime I remember, when I was in my late forties, worrying I may not survive fifty, I might desert my daughter, my parents and my loved ones.

My Cheiron return pushed this button hard!  – the wounded healer, my daughter’s “eclipse” into San Francisco.  I was able to keep in touch with her during her wild years by being silent and calming down.  Somehow I knew in the silence she was well, and that this bedrock honesty is better than conventional reassurances.

image001

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Goodness!  What unexpected and interesting thoughts, this morning.

2 vesica

Placement at the other side is Consciousness each side of the Yule door:  a delineation as the Age of Aquarius matures.   The Age of Aquarius began in 1600 when Kepler met Tycho de Brahe and plotted the orbit of Mars;  but Aquarius in full, begins around now.  There are big penumbrae of passing, between Ages.  They overlap, casting a pomegranate curve of shadow:  vesica pisces.   December 2012 is the present portal – Jesus’s birth and death was perhaps another.

A Great Portal requires nothing more, than to sense it is there, and go about one’s daily life in a relaxed way.

Life goes on

Life goes on

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Regarding grief and its expression, and how unreachable I was to my family until I broke down during Marisa’s travels, and said how painful it actually was …

On an Ascension path, one is bound by an astral loyalty to the Guardians which makes expression in life extremely difficult.  I tended to chatter in code, and in slogan, and to preach.  This appears like arrogance.  It is not.  It is the struggle to find a language in which both emotional realities – each side of the Door – are honoured and can converse, or agree not to.   It is painful, and for a long time isolating.   Growing older, erodes the resistant membrane, and helps me to laugh at me, to be vulnerable and to share.

There is a close relationship between those who pass on and those who stay on the earth plane.  We who stay, assist those who pass – in our daily actions and understandings – to become coherent in their transpersonal duties, feeding back.   We are all interconnected.   Wherever this is recognised, is Consciousness.  It is the sunlight breaking through my Path of Awe.

put on space?

put on space?

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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 also 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). Watch this space.

Other blogs:  (click on image) – Aquariel, Reckless Fruit (1), Reckless Fruit (2)

Aquariel

Aquariel

Reckless Fruit (2)

Reckless Fruit (1)

All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012. May not be used for commercial purposes. May be used and shared for non-commercial means with credit to Jane Adams and a link to the web address https://janeadamsart.wordpress.com/

Sketches of Father Maximilian Kolbe

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I am preparing a new post – my diary while painting Father Kolbe in 1983.  I pruned it right down, but it is still a big document.  So here first are a few newly discovered online photos of him;  and then my old working sketches of him which I rounded up.

The diary of the creative process is interesting, because it demonstrates Father Kolbe’s impact on a circle of life.   It will be published here soon.

I found this photo just now on a site called The Ever Blessed.  It heads an article titled Saint Maximilian Kolbe, and loving Mary too much.  The access now to online images and archives is a marvel …  from the research toil and trek of 30 years ago!

An early sketch … not quite there.

 This  photo is one which I would like to have used for my painting.  It is from “Brothers of Life”. It shows – like the top photo – his profile, forehead and bone structure.  He was a spiritual soldier, a gifted inventor, and a media pioneer.  He founded a global printing press on pennies from heaven, built a town called Niepekalanov – city of God – and travelled as a missionary for several years in Japan.  Working with Buddhist and Shinto sages, he grew the beard.  The Franciscans are clean shaven, but are allowed to grow a beard on missions abroad.

I don’t have the order the sketches were done in, but I think this was an early one too.  Getting warmer!   Working with him was a conversation.

Another one …  feeling my way towards.  I had at the most half a dozen old snap shots in two library books.  The contact develops day by day, with the imagination’s antennae.

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Here is Bruce Heitz painting St Max Kolbe – copyright 2003 by KolbeNet.   I like this portrait!   Beautiful.  It speaks … and the artist looks up, and outward;  the brush, the touch, the coming to life.  They were having a chat, and someone came in.

This sketch “connects” to the painting I was nearly ready to do.   When I worked as a portraitist, there came a point during sittings – live or from photographs/research – which I called “the connection”.   Something altered in the space between us.  Something came down, entered and cohered.   From that moment I knew the painting – whatever the difficulties – had taken over and would do itself.  It came to meet.  The subconscious gets the message, and delivers.  It is a spark of love, and then the labour.

Drawn up into a 
dark cave whose glory drop by drop 
the rain through aeons carved, 
as stalagmite to stalactite 
   my soul evolves
from floor to point of meeting. 
Let us draw time, 
draw together this space. 

My flame drinks wick;  in watered rock 
   my mirrored twin appears ...

I may have quoted this in my earlier post Drawings of Timothy West at the Red Hedgehog, but it serves here as well.

As he loved her so much, here is a copy of a Botticelli Mother of Christ, done when I was about seven years old.   As children we enter the temple of the blessed, and are not constrained.

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After Maximilian Kolbe’s return to Poland, he worked ever harder at his press and newspaper circulation, though suffering from TB.  The Nazis arrested him because he refused to collaborate, and sent him to Auschwitz.   At a random roll-call to the starvation bunker, he stepped forward and offered himself in place of a younger man who had a family.  The guard agreed.   In the starvation bunker, Kolbe helped hundreds of persons to die in a state of grace.  He uplifted them, and kept them singing.  Everybody could hear it. Weeks later, he was the only one remaining alive, and he was put to death.  The man he saved, survived the camp and told the tale.

  You can see Kolbe’s portrait behind them.

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This, and the drawings that follow, were jotted down in a small notepad, on a visit to The Universe headquarters in Farringdon.  They found the photos for me.  Kolbe was quite well documented, as it was the year after his canonization.

On bike.  Father Kolbe is recognised as one of the community of Saints, not only for the way he died, but for the way he inspired and uplifted others all his life, and continues to do so;  and for his spiritual depth.   Intellectually, he was a “renaissance man”, a polymath.  As an inventor, he was practical and “hands-on”.   So strong is his spirit, that his physical frame was a passing show.  Thus he continues to work within us, and to counsel.

 Another old photo …

… and a drawing …

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… and the painting.  I shall get this professionally photographed, so that the detail around the Miraculous Medal and his rosary is clear.   Another photo of it is in my earlier post (15 June) Portrait Gallery One: Father Kolbe, Princess Alice & Others.

When I painted the rosary beads, it felt like a little galaxy:

“I would like to paint the reverse side of the Miraculous Medal – the “M” and the two hearts – very delicately above his right shoulder, as Kolbe is a Knight to Our Lady.  In an odd way, the rosary is his “sword”, especially the angles of the crucifix and the medal, which give “body” to his disappearing left arm.  He helped me place them, and the beads, which can float around them like a galaxy of angels.  I was astonished how well it turned out. 

“My original concept of him had more of a smile – the smiling face of God – but there is here the merest hint of a smile, as martyrdom and realism is in his face, and this is how he emerged.  I shall be able to soften the lines from nose to mouth, just a little, in the coming weeks.  His hand has become a gardener’s hand, rather like Father Alan’s.  From a distance it is strong, but close up the draughtsmanship is weak, especially the little finger.  The form of this hand relies on the effect of light on it.  It is supposed to be a completely unassuming hand, such as St Francis might have had.  I left in a fortuitous shadow of stigmata.  I emphasized the pleats and folds of his habit beneath the girdle, and did a little bit to the creases at his left elbow … and was enjoying Beethoven very much.”

from journal, November 1983

Painting Maximilian Kolbe was my initiation to a way which began to break ground a few years later.  My writings at that time, note a threshold, a watershed from which a river flows.

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And …

“Prayer is not better when it gives consolation, but rather when it exacts greater fidelity to return to what you’re doing.”

“God gives us this white ladder and wills that we use it, to scale the heights to come into his presence.  This is only poetic imagery:  the reality is incomparably more beautiful.”

“To arouse that love for the Immaculata, therefore, by enkindling it in one’s own heart, to communicate this fire to those who live close to us, to set on fire with this love all souls and each one in particular—those who live now and those who will live in the future, to make this flame burst forth ever more intensely and without restrictions in ourselves and all over the earth: such is our purpose. Everything else is just a means.”

St Maximilian Kolbe 1894-1941

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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.