the love artist dot org

the real call to duty

after all the soul searching & lack of humor below, just stating for the record that the love artist has spent the afternoon & will probably spend most of the evening in bed, &, in the present moment,  no problem here at all, just love & more love  . . it is just a detox symptom . . . these trials with love . . . a chemical reaction as i continue peel away the layers, oddly one of the perverse & tedious girl activities i relish, like peeling away a good sunburn . . .

bring it on

(late night response from ms propheta west)

. . .realized very clearly yesterday that the goddess is a demanding lover who will tolerate no bullsh*t in her presence, which is after all, "reality." so when we DECIDE to walk in dignity, grace and reality, she is right there, stripping all the dross away, sometimes brutal, sometimes gentle + sometimes we back off because it is all just too much, but usually once we have experienced this fragrance, this consciousness

the heart blossoms with so much desire to be truly free

and we become her consort, doing whatever it takes for this presence to become stable and continuous, for her darshan to always abide within us


keep up with the meditation!
yes, maybe see u next week
+ i can come up sunday - weds. afternoon
xoxoxox
(the goddess has many names)

prologue (the goddess has many names)

last night, on my way to the movies, i passed two kids sitting on the corner, on a little patch of grass next to the crossroads of two sidewalks.  i wasn't that close to them but they were still young enough that it was almost impossible to tell that it was actually a boy & a girl, but somehow i knew, the way the one i thought was a boy was leaning in while the one i thought was a girl was talking.  the girl had a ponytail & was looking down while she spoke, looking at a piece of grass that she was turning into something, turning it over & over again in her hands.  it was still and hot, the way stillness & heat make a close room around you, even when you're under the whole night sky.  it was late but they seemed like they would sit there all night

i was born loving & being loved

an infant geisha, i could never shut up, but i am making a deal with myself that from now on i will only tell the stories of love that i remember

i'm also making a deal with myself not to be mean. intentionally

in the daytime, i was always in charge. when i was 4, i started a flying school in my backyard. we lived in the suburbs then.  the children ran on the picnic table & jumped off.  i coached from beside the corral i made from the loose benches, where i kept the rest of my students.  They listened to me.  i was courageous & defiant in the face of adults.  i believed in my students.  i believed we all could fly if we tried hard enough

in the evenings i lay awake with the light on.  i begged my parents not to turn it off.  i couldn't sleep whether the light was on or off, but it was always better & more distracting from myself to have some kind of commotion in the room.  i counted the hours of the night by the half hour sitcoms leaking from my mother's bedroom across the hall where she lay on the bed eating halvah & pastrami sandwiches. after green acres my father would come home from work. i would whimper a little & he would come in, turn the lights off & sit.  i remember his voice was kind even though he was tired.  he drove in and out of the city everyday, early in the morning & late at night

i remember when i was much smaller; i would go to sleep before the sun went down. i could hear kids playing in the street below my window.  i would pretend to go to sleep right away, & then wake up and scream, like jumping off a cliff, i made myself believe it. my mother would come.  i remember saying i thought the house was on fire.  these were the things i was afraid of: my parents dying, fire, people turning into animals, the open ocean with no shoreline, the car back-firing, bridges, the dark, sleeping, not being able to sleep

i remember one time my father came into the room & left an indian chief headdress next to my lamp. although i could see him, i watched him in the mirror.  the light was on, i pretended to be asleep.  my room was pink & white. i could feel his sadness &, as much as i tried to stop it, it filled my small body

for years the mirror in my bedroom was the only place i could look at myself. it was talking to myself in that mirror where i began to consciously teach myself about love. when i looked into my own eyes, i realized i understood


~ from HOW TO BE A LOVE ARTIST: a manual in progress

do not go gentle into that good night (prologue second shift)

i have always wanted to love, i couldn't bear not to.  from the beginning of my life, various kinds of love were attractive but not always uncomfortable.  to this day i cannot wear a piece of my parents clothing, but i can tell them i love them, hear them love me.  when i hug my father, he pats my back awkwardly. most of the time i separate from my skin in that moment. i cannot say this is a disagreeable feeling. i used to try & change that response & be more in my body but now i just accept that is the way i can love him

i was a slutty teenager, but romantic. i started young. i remember telling my younger sister, "you can sit on their laps all night if you want to, every night if you want to, it's like an endless supply"

i know that it is an illusion that we get to choose our lovers, but as a baby we are only desire.  in my adult love life, i find this vulnerability the ultimate rush, for surely if i could offer my body & the soul it promises to the one that could care for it completely i would dissolve & become pure.

so i was a baby & i loved my parents & they loved me. i wish i could remember when desire was breath and food & touch without those words. grey wallpaper with pink flowers, the white bars of a crib, the huge moon of my mother's face.  this is what i remember

i started sharing a room with my sister when i was in second grade. she was 17 months younger than me. we fought like animals but i loved her.  we looked alike, except she was shorter and her skin was darker.  i figured out that i could sleep in her bed when i was afraid.  this seemed incredibly brilliant to me, the solution to one of my biggest problems, being afraid.  it had never occurred to me that I could sleep with someone else before.  sometimes i had put a pillow next to me lengthwise & pretended it was my mother, or some mother, a solid feeling next to me that would not leave 

i'm not sure if i was saying the words "I love you" at this point.  i did not sleep with my sister because i loved her, but because i could, & i felt better when i did.  i am not saying that this is not love.  it became addictive, but the space in the bed was tight.  we both had the tendency to sleep with hoards of stuffed animals.  we liked to pretend that our beds were rafts & the stuffed animals our wards, smaller children and babies we had rescued from the sinking ocean liner we had just escaped.  when i climbed into my sister's bed i was a child however, not a savior, &, although a year younger than me, she had the power to let me climb aboard or refuse me admission.  sometimes she threw me out in the middle of the night.  this was understandable

too often i feel like i know what everyone is thinking & i understand that is often seen as unacceptable. i know i am not god.  i make mistakes like everybody else, sometimes even more.  i never explain myself but i do say i'm sorry when i make assumptions that prove themselves to be wrong or uncomfortable.  like the permeable barrier of the blood stream unworded information between loved ones is translucent & not intentional 

the love communication inside my brain is not specific but liquid.  the difference between a very tiny space & an infinitely large one is nothing at all.  i am sorry when this is none of my business


~ from HOW TO BE A LOVE ARTIST: a manual in progress

dear love artist / in-love or love-in?

dear tla,

i saw love this morning; she was standing across the meadow outside my bedroom window. a translucent green mass of blob before me. i couldn't see above her, around her or beneath her, only thru her

as i moved closer, I could see her immense belly rolling back & forth like one of those wave tanks. light reflected off that belly. a thousand, perhaps millions or even trillions of little twinkling lights danced across her mass & i thought to myself, "what a greedy bitch!"

i felt myself pulled toward her. not like a sweetheart playfully grabbing you by your arms & drawing you closer for a kiss. more like a demanding sort of lover, needy & insecure. it felt like she had taken my lower spine, throat & testis in her fist & forcibly moved me forward, against my will

i dropped to my knees before her & felt my face being pushed closer to her belly. up close i could see that all the dancing little lights were indeed, trees, flowers, insects, animals, wind, fire all of creation & myself, looking back at me. wow, she was beautiful and alluring, so why so much resistance from me? i did not want to be a part of her. yet, i could not stop it

she tightened her grip & shoved me deep into her belly. it felt as if i was immersed in a sea of green jello. as i laid there slowing giving into her will i thought to myself; have we had it wrong all this time? has love pulled the wool over our eyes? is it better to be IN-LOVE or have LOVE-IN-US?

love, state of flux



*********



dear state of flux,

yes is my answer

other than that i am speechless

you are one lucky man

you can love-in-me whenever, come on over

xox the love artist

kick ass, my love puppies, kick ass

today's oracle (via yehuda berg):

my father's teacher, rav brandwein, taught him, "when we come to the upper worlds, we are asked to name the greatest accomplishment of our lives. . .

most people answer, "everybody loved me"

these people are told to go back and do it all over again

the purpose of our Creation is not to tow the line & do as we are told. it is to make waves and to be willing to stand alone if it means standing up for what we believe in

today, speak your truth, regardless of what others will think

bordello

Ah-hem

in my spare time

more sulky bordello

i am a lucky girl to inhabit this vessel & for that i am truly grateful

(& for ms. gretchen kelly & her juicy new friendship)

the over-nurturer

i am an over-nurturer & i believe it is an art

i am the mother of three over-nurturers, each with their own particular joie de vivre & weltanschauung & their own particular growing pains that i, as an over-nurturer, have not been able to do anything about

that is the thing about being an over-nurturer, you gotta have absolutely no attachment to the result, you just gotta do it, like it comes naturally, but from the bottom of your heart, from your root, like the buddha smile, & it takes a whole lot of throwing oneself off a cliff to do it right

i like to turn the flame up high. i don't like to wear safety anything (tho i  must admit i do sometimes . . )

i love to live with a wide open heart

this hurts often & maybe i am crazy, but i believe this only hurts because i am holding back, not because the world is unsafe or those in it untrustworthy

last week or the week before i got a message from the universe:

do you know what happens, kathe, when folks distrust the trustworthy?

they begin attracting the untrustworthy

ain't pretty

and for those who trust the untrustworthy?

yeah, they begin attracting the trustworthy

trust me, the universe



now i think the idea of being wide open is a difficult concept for a girl to hold without feeling somewhat conflicted in a multitude of ways & yet it is an inherent feminine gift is it not?

to be open  to be flow  to be the vessel

to be wide open feels like setting oneself up for rape, i know, i have felt that before, i can feel it right now, in a heartbeat

& of course i don't buy the "she deserved it" but i also know i have taught many, those trustworthy & untrustworthy, those "deserving" & "undeserving" how to love & i also know that whatever pain i have felt were really growing pains, tho i may have appeared all banged & bruised, here i am almost a half century of loving, from the womb, really & there has not been one year that has passed that i have not grown, not been forged by love, have not become more & more beautiful, stronger & stronger

& that was because the intent, underneath all the sexiness, all the neediness, all the subterfuge, was truly truly to love

i had a mission & i believed in it

& when times got tough or dangerous, i was lucky to see my mission dangling, sometimes way off to the side of my peripheral vision

& i grabbed it

i believe that the problem with over-nurturing is the

over

part & not because it is excessive but because

it is so necessary

over-nurturing is just pulling out the stops & circling the horses because

over selfishness is so rampant

the carnage is legion

there is a love puppy in my life that i love to over-nurture

i love it

it brings me so much joy to baby him & he licks it up

this is not a lover, but then again, who is not my lover, really

he is a dear, dear one & dear friend, abandoned in the world at a young age by parents who i am sure wished somewhere in their hearts to love their children to the best of their abilities (& i am sure did their best) but who were so wrapped up in what they thought was love, romantic love, for each other, losing sight of their children & their best interests & ultimately getting tragically lost, completely

this orphan waifdom only attracts my over-nurturing predilection in times of emergency but when it does

it is a beautiful thing

my love puppy curls up & i love him to the most extreme of my capabilities

i know, i know

reeks of co-dependency, but another word for co-dependency is un-bridled love for those that know how to put everything on hold for the moment of need

& we do hit the wall often, my love puppy & i, & i have to own up:

the only way i know you are spoiled is because i spoil you

is it wrong to be a giant in the face of mass abandonment, to be a goddess

if you have the calling

the true artistry is how to hold the self intact in the process & for more instructions

keep your eyes peeled for HOW TO BE A LOVE ARTIST

coming soon . . .

the more you ask of me, the more love i have to give

it is all in the intent

it really is

i love you




me & my daughter jules, the budding love artist

love medicine

once again i have been molecularly transformed

i am so very lucky, i know i say that all that all the time

but i am

i get invited to the best places, i get to have the absolute best company wherever i go

even if i'm just in the laundromat, where i happen to be at the moment. my dryer was making a funky sound & it was just me & another woman sitting there.  she counseled me that there was a man next door in the subway sandwich shop that cared for the machines & i went over there & the man behind the counter smiled a big smile & got very paternal with me & accompanied me back to the laundromat & we looked at/listened to the dryer together.  he opened the door & touched my clothes very very gently, almost without touching them, out of respect, but to feel the presence of heat & then he assured me he would come back & check in case i wanted to leave, which of course i did, cause the girl has things to do

after he left, the woman using the dryer next to me nodded & wished me a good day

it really doesn't get better than that, does it

community

i spent the good part of the weekend in a tipi with 70 other people, staying up all night, sitting up, praying, singing, taking peyote, listening, feeling

i only knew a couple of people there & those i knew just barely

before i traveled with carlin to the ceremony, i prepared myself by searching deep inside for a prayer to bring. i knew that this was a big opportunity, the gift of the peyote & the gift of the unknown & the gift of my current state (& the state of the world) of being cracked wide open, to the spine so to speak.  i can't even begin here to speak to the state of pdaddy & my current configuration, mostly because it has become clear that i just

don't know

& that we both have a whole whole lot of learning & growing to do but

i do know that i am in the right place & the right time

& i am grateful to have the opportunity to love

even, even if might possibly be a trick

(& i mean no dis to pdaddy on that disclaimer, I am just fessing up to my own path of getting sick/getting well . . that is how the native people speak to the body's need to expel the medicine, the peyote, throwing up, they call it getting well & when one person in the tipi, in the ceremony gets well, they are revered by the rest of the circle because they took it for all of us & we pray & offer cedar to the fire for them, in love with them & when i get paranoid & when i close myself to love & when i doubt -- even if there may be some truth to it, even when my heart may be in some dangerous territory

i know i am taking it for all of you & i know i am woman enough to get well & i do)

so who knows at the moment about me & pdaddy but i do know he was sorely sorely missed, not by my side in front of the big medicine purification but there in my heart

his father passed away a few days ago & pdaddy is being forged into the man he is so obviously meant to be

in any case, i was in the big opportunity & the peyote worked deep, worked hard

if i may be so presumptuous to say so

it was subtle because it was within the group, the medicine, the love & the tea & i felt the ability to spread any physical discomfort or any feelings of being overwhelmed to the whole cathedral room of the tipi

my prayer was no more separation & i spent the 8 hours of sitting meeting every person in the tipi eye to eye, even for a second & listening inside to the voice that said

i am all of you

& at the end, in the (good) morning, in the (great) morning, it was a big love fest & i knew all of them by heart, every molecule

i mean it

i left before i was finished with the medicine, driving in a labyrinth fashion through the hills of western mass, with no map & no plan, like the crow flies, with hugo as my wing man & carlin, perhaps reading the map & hugo told me i drove like a fire keeper, with the medicine & with an inner focus

i almost didn't make it.  i had wanted to bring some of the medicine home inside of me.  i wanted to finish it in my room, in my bed, but i finished it on the road, lost in the hills & the green, with a mayan next to me & an adventure girl in the back seat

i am home now

take ecstasy with me

from peyote to (osmosis)(love)(ecstasy) . . .

yippee

in ptown at the ocean with fly boy d & my yummy daughters, getting loved up

today i don't need to do anything but float

this is me & the former mr david flower nee david mazochi, my boy, one of them, back in the day, 1999, on the ecstasy boat, out under the stars til daybreak with the big boom boom boom

baby mama

when does it stop breaking your heart?

dear love artist / what is it?

dear love artist,

you amazed me
you still amaze me and i wonder:
what is it?

the notion of your unbridled openness gives anyone hope
for what is the initial desire: vaginal intimacy
this, i well know - getting three or more crushes a week
on women who are nearly never age appropriate -
is an illusion & it is from me not the woman
the theoretical knowledge that there is Platonic Love
has been borne upon me by recent doings with beautiful
young woman friends with whom i have
broached the possibility of courtship &
settling that that is not going to happen,
have come to a friendship of a type i have not known since
my youth when my closest friends were women

i know that there are things undone in me
that must be keeping me from a relationship in which the
primal desire - as well as all the ancillary benefits -
are realized

my mom died when i was a Thirteen year old
sexually benighted and full of guilt over masturbation
when i had a girlfriend ever after,
it was with a separate part of myself
this character who was allowed to kiss girls
& enjoyed it
was coupled with that sneaky Catholic teen who was
doing something he shouldn't
& i never completely got over it
while i was married, this need to do what was wrong
kept me in thrall to Pornography & fantasies i have only told a handful of very safe people

so where does that leave me
after my Marriage stopped i moved near the woman who
taught me to not lie
we were lovers
in this new Freedom,
i considered monagamy to
be, perhaps another
misconception that i could do without
i was open about it and we spoke to our dear friend & counselor about it
this was not a part of her reality, so we parted

the woman I was with next was twenty one and Jewish & in Brooklyn
i still had a car & would commute
i moved back to Brooklyn & we broke-up

we started with the knowledge that it would be temporary
when she started to consider her future
reality, my non Jewishness and my history
with alcohol (from which I was in remission)
made her want to look for a Jewish Mensch more her own age
for some serious settling down.
to this day she is the nicest person i ever met &
most of what i know about being nice
i learned from her

then i had - after 5 months womanless -
a relationship with two women at the same time
one had been a friend with kissing privileges
but when my heart was swept away by the
Yogic Poet with the crumbled marriage
my friend, four years my senior,
Wanted some of that, too
this went on until Poet couldn't continue like that
so i made my Anthropologist/Social Worker very sad

then after six months of exclusivity,
the poetess wasn't getting her longings requited

i have not been in a relationship since October 2006

i am still learning music
need to learn how to be a man
& i want to be with a woman
i mostly think that it will never happen
i am a pauper musician.
as my friend writes "you have disaster
written all over you
in sharpie, in capital letters"

so there is the warning to the women i meet
or what...? i wish i knew, don't want to know
& probably have more important things to do

just lettin' y' know.
so happy to have met you & an admirer for perpetuity

at your service - whoever you turn out to be -

JCR


*************************


dear JCR

briefly . .

you do not have to tell me all of that
you should not have any expectations (though you claim to have none, revealing so much information does put pressure on a woman)
i was openly affectionate & would love to remain so but being feminine & openly affectionate should never insinuate a window for "vaginal intimacy"

step away from the vehicle of what you know/have experienced as love & pay attention

i know you were in the moment yesterday . . just stay there or you are going to miss a lot

love you xox the love artist


**************************


dear love artist,

forgive my effusiveness & not considering any boundaries
on my part, i did feel vulnerable & just wanted you to know
i didn't mean to pressure you & if i were lying to myself, i didn't know

it was in a sense of open heart &, i think, addressing you as a health professional - giving you a brief history, as it were

still Learning Love and Music

At your service,
JCR

ps "i am only an egg"- robert heinlein


************************


dear JCR

thank you

i am not a "health professional" but a love artist

the difference between a healer & an artist is that i make absolutely no projections/no promises

we are making art/love TOGETHER, it is a collaboration & ONLY exists in that moment & then PERHAPS may heal ourselves & the world through a molecular chain reaction

our molecules transformed & therefore every love transaction post is colored with that exchange

so the moment is all that is necessary, the past is practically irrelevant & there can be absolutely no expectation

just to make it clear

& i love you just as much as the moment where you got so excited ;) just so you know

xox tla


*************************


dear love artist

thank you for the write back & the medicine of the ceremony continues
thank you for the clarification and I do trust you with my words
i think that i am a healer in my art, since a cheerful heart is like medicine
kind of an emotional nutritional along the lines of how i told you your hug was like Heart Vitamins to me

i remain

at your service
JCR

sadhana de amor y assignation

sadhana: (definition)

the entirety of a seeker's path -- all the practices, the postures, the language, the clothing, the diet, which, taken together, comprise

the way

each of us has chosen

thus, in the spiritual context, the expression "walking the walk" means, following one's sadhana with honesty, devotion, determination, enthusiasm, and joy . .



"her love may have been contrived, but it was genuine, . . . izzo considers herself "a cross between a prostitute & the Dalai Lama," and she indeed delivers a combination of spiritual companionship and sensual enlightenment." - tristan taormino, village voice



(once again & what has become a weekly love practice) paintings by love bunny & artist extraordinaire gretchen kelly

cliche only because so true (redux)

this was originally posted here in may of 2007 & I continue to get 20-40 hits a day just for this specific entry

i can't tell you how much my life has changed since posting it & i certainly don't watch it every day


as i am famous for saying:

i would have asked for more . . .

i have been studying it lately again tho, cause as the enchanted drala so eloquently & generously posted yesterday:

AS YOU GO THE WAY OF LIFE, YOU WILL SEE A GREAT CHASM. JUMP. IT'S NOT AS WIDE AS YOU THINK.- JOSEPH CAMPBELL

SUCCESS IS NOT THE RESULT OF SPONTANEOUS COMBUSTION. YOU MUST SET YOURSELF ON FIRE.- REGGIE LEACH

YOU HAVE NO MORE TIME FOR RETREATS OR REGRET. YOU HAVE ONLY TIME TO LIVE LIKE A WARRIOR.-DON JUAN (TEACHINGS OF DON JUAN)

i have set myself on fire

**from may 19, 2007



work it with me

could use your magnetic love & support

xox yrs the love artist

love for certain work

traveling is as refreshing for some
as staying at home is for others

solitude in a mountain place
fills with companionship for this one
and weariness for that one

this person loves being in charge
of the workings of a community

this other one loves the ways
heated iron can be shaped with a hammer

each has been given a strong desire
for certain work, a love for those motions
& all motion is love

this way sticks & pieces of dead grass & leaves
shift around in the wind
& with the directions of rain & puddle-water
on the ground, those motions
are all following the love
they have been given

~ rumi



(the hug by nan goldin 1980)

vulnerable goddess

as the blunt & always erudite ms kelly remarked with visionary acuity last evening over a renegade salad:

soft doesn't necessarily mean soggy

holla back girl

today's oracle:

libra (august):

what is troubling you? it would help if your fears were not so detailed, and it would help more if they did not become an instant point of contention

the real fear you're struggling with is that of isolation.  it's as though you feel removed from yourself as well as from the world, though there may be no physical reason in your environment for this

your solar chart strongly suggests that you are starting to feel angry about feeling isolated.   the problem is that it is not necessarily true

there are key facets of your life where you are visible, participating in the world & the focus of true admiration.  this may conflict with your sense of your own existence; you may not even be able to see the evidence that you are having an impact

please recognize that your work is not only having an impact, but you are reaching people on the emotional level as well

you are finally involved with something that expresses your true values, your commitment to caring for the world, & which meets the most important criteria of all, contacts people personally

therefore, you can feel good about responding to the call for leadership.  if you're feeling isolated, let that stand as a reminder of the condition of 99 percent of the population, & is the key part of why you must do the work you are being called up on to do


~ planet waves

phew . . & i thought i was just feeling my gypsy blood on a lonely sunday evening . . . .

the school of redux

i am not one for revisiting the past . . ummmm . . . at least not intentionally (my mind can be a homing pigeon tho when left untended) but today holly asked me to do her a favor & water a garden for her because she was overwhelmed . . & i needed to get outside of my head of be of service . .

& it oddly was the exact same garden that i helped her with last year at this time when i was clinging onto a certain illusion of love w/ dear life & it was tearing my heart apart

NOT

because of a lack of love

BUT MORE

because of my struggle with myself

with what i wanted to be

& how i wanted everything to play out

(i am so grateful for everything that has transpired, like 180 degrees, don't you forget love artist, get on your knees)

i do believe i was fighting the good fight before but the thing is

i don't want to fight at all

living my life

(courtesy of giorgio)

more ecstasy

lots of love to you from the border skirmishes . . smooch . . smooch . . smooch

"Divine Love is our goal ...

to reach it, we need to understand that all we know about love, from the most bold & voluptuous passions to the most ecstatic & refined flights, is nothing but a phase on the progressive climb to Divine Love . . .

love's battle is the struggle for the transmutation of dense energy into divine, ethereal, elemental & angelic energy. . .

the voluptuousness of forms, textures, and touch is substituted by the volatility of subtle emanations in which higher consciousness is contemplated . . . "

~ from FOREST OF VISIONS by alex polari de alverga

(a padrinho in the Santo Daime church living in mapia in the heart of the brazilian rainforest)

"we can do this .....until the end of time ......." (pdaddy)

oh yeah, & while you are rummaging around on the internet today you can check out where i have been hanging out these days:  www.theinnergardenproject.com

very new, not quite complete, but yummy & lush all the same

be back soon with nuts & berries i have foraged just for you my lovely ones

xox tla

bye bye

pdaddy's coming home today after weeks & weeks away & there's gonna be a big pot o' somethin somethin to stir up . . . & clean up is certainly going to be a bitch . . . oh well . . see you in a few days my love warriors

the tesseract of love

"when you take something apart completely, you can never be quite sure all the pieces will fit back together.  there is always something missing.  this is the chance you have to take

like depression & love, tesseracts operate in the fifth dimension.  you enter an arena of blackness that is impossible to map.  there is no beginning or end.  there is just one thing and then another 

in order to tesser, you must square the fourth dimension, time.  it's that Einstein E=MC2 thing i've thought a lot about & just can't get but i have heard it is the core of truth in the modern world 

we all understand the first three dimensions:  the first is the line; the second squares the line & transforms it into the satisfying flat square, perfect, equal.  in the third dimension the square is no longer flat, it can surround us, it becomes home.  it has a bottom and a top and sides that keep them from meeting and crushing us.

in the fifth dimension, which feels like falling in love, a straight line is not the shortest distance between two points . . ."

from HUMMER: a novel by the love artist (kathe izzo)


*******


"as her fingers flirted with their alternate hold/slip on the door jam, & her body rehearsed both it's fall & the jerk from this sleep that this might be her whole life, she had a glimpse of what it was like to be him . .

in the vortex there is only power & it was not the power she thought before: in bed, when he was begging to see her, the times when she felt superior over his drunken mistakes, when she felt like she knew everything about him

no this was more than a glimpse, because in the vortex she had the incredible super power of being everyone, no not not BEING everyone, but of CONTINUUM, of true KNOWLEDGE

so as her fingers & the archaic paranoid vessel of scarification & trauma dreamt of a fall, simultaneously there was what appeared to be another hologram or screen in front of her interrupting her dream. a live feed of speeding yellow lines in the night filled her vision as if from behind a light green filter.  the field directly behind the eyes was full of water or some other kind of secretion & the initital impact of this world view made gave her a heady allergic feeling, beneficial only by alerting her to her fragile grip & asking her did she really want to end it all

through this milky discharge everything looked quite different.  instead of finding herself or having the sensation of getting her bearings, finding her footing, there was another experience.  there was a sensory awareness that grew outside of her head & her sense organs like a mushroom cloud. if she felt the need to connect with the self THAT WAS HER, she could place THAT SELF at the origin of the cloud, but this was merely a cartoon, a drawing, a slight reassurance that she was real. she was no longer there, there was only this huge, enormous dust bunny with fragments whirling around nuclei of emotion, formless & yet with a guiding central force, moving through space like a herd of wild ponies, only their ancient DNA showing the way, but showing the way it did, as if they were one

was this a tesseract, was this really her, or was she no longer? was this the dream or her life,  the life, some life, would she ever return to the doorway, to the void, to the temple, to her bed?

once she accepted the whirling mass of what she had become, she realized that what felt like falling, was actually a rapid shifting of perspective & what felt like falling out of control was actually her resistance to her own enormity.  instead of inhabiting her small yet solid frame, she had become a thin film of energy,  that fell over the landscape of her life like a light netting.  it felt awkward to have such a loose form but once she focused outside of who she thought she was, once she accepted the dust bunny she had become she realized she could see everything: the inside & outside of the temple, the inside & outside of her lover's car, the inside & outside of the landscape of the cyber world & the inside & outside of her own neuro transmitters

& once she relaxed, none of this seemed strange at all but rather familiar and ultimately more at home than she had ever, ever felt . . . . "

excerpt from TESSERACT OF LOVE ~ an adjunct project to the manual HOW TO BE A LOVE ARTIST

while you were sleeping

though i am never one to participate in the "is it art?" judicial assembly because as i see it

i am art

but money really does get in the way sometimes, at least in my curly little head, so i have been seeing my new inner garden project

as a job

but it keeps turning back into art . . .

how can it not?

it all makes me laugh & cry, all of it . . i started to dream up the tiny seed of the love artist enterprise(s) when my kids were little & i would stand in the hallway in the depths of the night when it was not quite the morning & hold my hands out . .

does anybody need anything

& i knew then that there was no shamanic trial & no performance art chicanery that could be better or more real than this

but how, how to take it to the masses ;) . . .



ms dallaire made a spectacular yet gorgeously subtle guest appearance here at the inner garden this morning, showing up to do some sat nam rasayan appointments during the cleanse & to drink some blended love



we spent most of our downtime in bed, taking latent catholicism: praying & our favorite saints

yes, we really did

& gazing into each other's eyes & making big plans for raw love world domination

& by domination we mean total surrender