334: I Am The River

644376_10200639186812192_1024325069_n

I am not sure where my head space is. Or where my head is for that matter. I tend to ascribe to the Buddhist teachings that we don’t exist, as we can’t see ourselves in totality… Ever! And so, like the rest of me, my head has mysteriously disappeared.

Lately, some part of “Me” has been noticing I am much more aware of my environment. It seems that for decades, until now, I have skid past life and missed much of what happens around me on a day-to-day basis. Kind of like a first time ice-skater skidding on her butt so fast and so far that when she stands she doesn’t reckon she notices anything, except the full-heated rush of blood to the face, the cold butt, bruises, and torn pants.

image_1362115247075985

Life seems like that for me, right now. Like I spent some four-decades plus skidding on my butt on the cold ice, only to just now discover that there are bleachers, chairs, and waiting areas, and even snack bars!

Today, everything is more clearer, as if, finally and at last, somehow I figured out I could step off of the ice, and even remove my ice skates. I cannot explain it any better.

image_1362115928720057

Just recently, I am beginning to notice things I never ever did before. Patterns for starters, like the patterns in puddles, and patterns found in the streaks on the road after it rains, and the patterns in the shapes leaves make after falling. I am starting to notice patterns everywhere. I somehow managed to spend years not recognizing things that are right in front of my face.

I am going through many ah!ha!, look-at-that!-moments; It is similar to how I never understood about how a flower only lasts so long and then dies, even if it is in a pot of soil. I used to think a flower would last forever. It wasn’t until my twenties that I made the connection. While all around me flowers were blooming and dying. I just couldn’t see it or comprehend the process.

I have discovered, that at like faces, I cannot remember scenery. I cannot grasp the completeness of my surroundings. I am in a way in some type of visible matrix, in the center of an ever-changing energetic playing arena.

I cannot remember the order of houses when I drive down streets, the order of streets, the order of trees; I can’t remember where I saw the fire hydrant or where that one street was I once turned down. I just can’t. I have this incredible mind, but it cannot grasp the simple things, or at least not hold onto them.

I am finding great comfort in painting. Well, truthfully comfort isn’t the appropriate word, as the painting process itself is excruciatingly emotionally. So much energy and purging comes up. I go through cycle upon cycle of feeling, and have sensations of intense energy, both beneficial and exhausting. And no matter how hard I concentrate, I do not know what the painting will look like until it, the painting itself, is done.

As I have said early, when I paint, I am waiting for what is inside of the canvas to emerge. I feel this presence there just waiting to be uncovered and discovered.

And that is how I am seeing life now: That behind everything and everyone is this universal light and love waiting to be recognized and recovered, waiting to be held for its beauty alone.

I am much like a young child in so many ways, in so many “good” ways, able to see the same street again and again with new eyes.

Everything is shifting. Like the image of me in the mirror, my world is not stagnant.

Life to me is a river of sorts, and I am carried daily.

Instead of thinking I have fallen and am endlessly sliding on the cold ice, I can see I am very much alive, awake, and full of newness, the same newness that exists everywhere.

Interestingly enough, when I first delved into painting a few months ago, my angels (Holy Spirit) spoke to me and said with a camera I would be able to see images (spirits and souls) in my paintings.

This is truly amazing for me, as I am finding more and more “messages” and “signs” in my paintings. On this post I have shared one of my most recent paintings. It went through hours of transitions.

I love this painting. I see this as a spiritual being, me, in which essence and energy attaches. I am able to look at this and find peace. This painting is how I see the world. What I take in shifts and changes depending on the angle, my mood, the people and events around me, and the energy of the moment.

There is a beautiful energy here.

Gratitude is immeasurable. I am gratitude.

I exist as joy and thankfulness. And I embrace all parts of me, however imperfect or fabulous they are deemed.

I know, that like the images I am creating, in my painting, and through the limited scope of my mind and eyes and senses, that everything is always changing and shifting. There is no need to pitch down a tent upon myself and force, or, better yet, try to force myself to be this way or that way for this purpose or for that purpose; because soon, none of what is now will exist.

I am a river. My life is a river. Silly to try to capture a river.

Blessings and Light,
Sam

IMG_0599

333: Long overdue…It’s “Official”

How cool is it that this is number 333 post? I loveeeeee the number three! Always have, always will. He is cute and springy and sweet and funny. Number three rocks. And there are three number threes!

It’s like the threes are celebrating the fact that I received my “official” diagnosis!

Yes, indeed…. Who would have guessed, but a psychologist has concurred (very kind man) that it is true, I am Aspergerian.

So it’s official; whatever that means.

Oddly enough, the whole validation of my “condition” was anti-climatic, as I was in a very serene and calm mood during my last appointment.

I kept waiting for the jolt of “Yeah, Baby” to hit me. But alas it never came.

I analyzed this lack of Wow-Factor for quite sometime, and concluded this balance of emotions was a positive and beneficial thing.

My freedom of self is expressed quite clearly in this recent painting called Surrender.

75496_10200593617352984_1362580164_n

More recently, three hours last night, and two hours this morning, I worked on this piece. It is filled with emotion and energy for me. This one is called Home.

image_1361638126323635

Interestingly, when I paint, I am mostly using a paper-towel as my tool. I start of with drawing free-formed designs with a pencil, letting spirit move me. Then I add some paint in globs. Then I rub off the paint and see what starts to pop out. I follow no rules and use odd techniques.

Mostly, I feel like a genius-sculpture waiting for the canvas to speak to me.

I have a unique perspective on images. I see things in my paintings and strongly, to the point of distraction and physical sensations, feel the energy.

I didn’t like this image in my original painting. The shape seemed dark to me, almost evil. It looks like a dead animal or beast. I had to remove this by erasing with water and adding more paint.

image_1361632717710718

This image really bothered me, too.

image_1361632668150122

Often parts of my works feel heavy and unfinished, and I have to erase, reapply, and step back. If I see an image I don’t like in a painting, like this one above, of a succubus hooked on to the teddy bear’s head, I have to restart and free the energy. I have to remove the energy vampire, so to speak.

I feel this energy intensely, and feel it is either attached to me, a loved one, or both. So I rework and rework the piece until the energy is released.

I can recognize so much healing during the process, and I become almost hypnotic and lost in my creation.

The painting experience is similar to writing, wherein I cannot use certain colors, brush strokes, angles, shapes, etc. (with writing it is words, sentence structure, rhythm, etc.) without feeling a blockage that I must remove.

For me, everything in life is alive with energy: words, colors, shapes, feelings.

All in all, the art of painting is becoming a soothing mechanism for me both energetically and emotionally.

I am pleased with this new Painter aspect of me: the breaking through of self and displaying of self on canvas. It is another form in which I feel someone might be able to see me beyond the facade of my human flesh/costume.

I still find the creation of faces doubly-daunting, as I cannot grasp faces, not others’ and not even my own. So I am struggling with the releasing of “face.” A concept I find mimics my own personal trials: That of releasing the image of self.

I have a great sense of peace, as of late; partially because I stopped taking this hormone pill that was making me have complex, rapid thoughts (can you imagine!! as my thoughts are already so complex!)…induced hyper-thyroid. But mostly because I have started to listen to my own self. I have started to believe in the magic of the world again. I have started to see that inside of me is so much beckoning to get out. And I have chosen the magic over the misery. Something that is long overdue.

image_1361638153965137

290: Torn Open

wiped clean
Torn Open

Torn Open

If I were a painter, I’d paint you as the river flowing through my heart, my arms outstretched in acceptance and need and want, my body limber and bleeding, the blood the very essence of my unquenchable desire.

The water, being you, would be the clearest and the sweetest, and the very richest, pouring through the canvas of me as melted butter across warm sugar-cakes.

I’d take you into me, soak in your yellow-sunshine, and swell into a catapult of expectation fulfilled. The rest of me, the part I’d left behind, outside the door that shelters our space, I’d call forth then, one by one and piece by piece, each part carrying in another puzzle of my completion.

And there, gathered on the floor, I’d rest, my every angle dismembered, broken, and waiting to be reassembled by you. In doing so the echoes of my desperate longing would be answered, and silence would ensue, if not forever, then for a moment, long enough for the splinters of my callings to rest and form shape.

There, in the silence, in the peace, I would wait, no longer afraid or without, no longer in pain.

Though broken and scattered, I would be whole. Though taken and left out, I would be home. Though ripped apart and tangled, the very heart of me missing his place, I would beat with a life so full my dreams would sing.

Like soldiers I would take flight; winged butterflies, a spectacle of starlit ghosts twirling and rising all at once to the trumpeting of our destiny.

You would whisper then, to me, this sugar-spiced dumpling of one form or another, in all my mystery, in all my guise; you would whisper sweetness so pure that my spine would tingle and take his place, amongst the pieces lost.

Here you would draw, your finger thick and calm, your voice trembling through the vibration of your flesh; and I, as ink, would appear, my design clear and precise, my meaning known and wanted.

I would not whisper, for the voice of the room would be yours, and yours alone. Your silhouette dancing in the shadows like a raven whom pecks the ripest seedlings from the foreground, a painter himself merging and forging to create substance for this soul.

Red would drip new, droplets of amulets and silver-tipped gold. My paint yours. A keeper of chance you be, diving into the gentleness and hope of tomorrow with the tip of your brush, a quail’s feather topped in delight.

Scribbled across white, I be.

Designed in the fashion you forbade and forbid, both ruptured and raptured at once.

I would burst for you, and you alone. My hungry voice rising to be heard above the quiet you created. Until, as serpent uncoiled and ram diving thick, I would come forth, rebirthed and complete in the making of you.

For where you dipped and twirled the horsehair and blanketed warmth, the artists stick and brush, I too dipped. For where you danced, I too danced, like a stallion in the moonlight free, my mane flowing beyond and touching the edges of your silhouette.

For in creating me, you both created self and dream, mister and misses. My sacrifice, though felt eternal, well worth the storm.

My endless searching, my endless calling, my escape into nothingness and a gentle calm, all part of the canvas you set forth. For if not for you and me, for my pain and your finding, then still I would pierce myself atop the mountain top, one knife after the other, alive but dead, awake but asleep.

For it was not until you called, until you came, until you saw me and claimed my existence that I truly was. Not until your coming destroyed me and brought me back again that I was truly born.

For in the existence that I know, you are my maker, my shaker, my taker, my master, my everything beyond the sun. In knowing you, or the part of you that held me, I have at last held myself.

And though the tears have etched and molded, created someone I know not, someone beyond my very self, alas I remain in awe of my beauty, inspired by creator you.

So please, as you whisper farewell, as you close the door, my fallen pieces reassembled and transpired, know I weep not so much for the loss of what was you, and what I thought I knew, but for the finding of myself.

~~~ Samantha Craft, December 31, 2012

Happy New Year….may you above all, having found the beauty of you, spread your light upon the waiting world. Blessings ~ Sam

285: Angel Heart

angel heart

Angel Heart by Samantha Craft

~~~~~~

Angel Heart

Meet me at the causeway

The hallway to knowing

And there

Call upon the light

And I shall come

To the feathered bed

Of your sleeping ocean

Soft, whispering wings

Stirring waters blue

Trembling joy

In ministry true

In undistinguishable form

In rays flittering gold

Immerse

Precious spectrum of eternal

Hope

Enter cleansed

The house of glory

Storm windows flung open

To the wind

Of anointment

Sealed upon

My precious child

~ by Samantha Craft

 Awakened Angels

Awakened Angels by Samantha Craft

282: The One I Love

This is long overdue.

Without my husband I would not be able to dedicated time to my painting, writing, and healing of body, mind, and spirit.

I can spend all day in creation and not do one thing around the house, in regards to cleaning and cooking, and my husband does not complain. He picks up where I left off. He does the dishes, the laundry, shampoos the carpets, and even makes dinner sometimes.

He is so loving to me and a true giver. He expects nothing from me in return.

He has a heart of gold and an amazing mind and spirit. He is one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, with the ability to transition and grow, and to look at his own personal journey and challenges.

He is never conceded and never cruel.

He accepts me unconditionally in all my moods and emotions. He respects my need for space and my tendency to retreat into my own world. He patiently awaits my return.

He holds me when I cry and laughs at my quirks. He reads my blog posts daily, always ready with a compliment or reassurance.

He helps me to see my light and beauty. He tells me I am a genius, that I have the kindest heart of anyone he knows, that I am loving and a good mom, and that I am gorgeous and sexy. He tells me all of his dreams have come true.

My husband is my rock, my knight sent down to protect me. a radiant and dashing earth angel.

I take comfort in his continued dedication and efforts to be the best man he can be.

Without him, I know I wouldn’t be doing my works, I wouldn’t have the time or strength to connect with others. He has provided me with the necessary tools to fulfill my life’s calling and dreams. He has given me the freedom to be myself and to flourish. In return, I accept him unconditionally and cherish him as my dearest friend.

Thank you Dear One for the gift of YOU!

If you’d like to leave a comment: “Thank you Bob!” is a good one.

Post 282  (2= union 8= infinity) 

This is a process I went through to paint my concept of love and angels. The first layer of “The Union” includes the green of healing and speaking my truth from the throat chakra. It also represents the breaking down of energetic blockages and releasing the free-flowing energy within me; the blue represents my angels; the yellow my light and the universal light of love. I created this first layer and then continued to create the final piece.

image_1355764400201122
First Layer

This is the final piece, where I have blended all the elements of free-flowing energy, connection, angels, and the light of love.

image_1355766217173972
The Union by Samantha Craft

Here is an emotional process I went through during the past three days. The first represents the darkness and inner angst. The second a layering over the darkness, a release of chaos, a freeing of self. The third, the final composition: The Birth of Light.

image_1355764612886017
Layer One: The darkness

~

image_1355765177524208
Layer two: The chaos and release….freedom awaken

~

image_1355767035503391
Birth of Light

Art Therapy has been a wonderful avenue to release much of the inner passion and emotion burning inside of me. I continue to feel light, love and glowing. Even in times of my greatest sorrow, when I am sobbing to my angels, I feel loved, centered, and right where I am meant to be. Once again, this weekend, a person I haven’t seen in a long while said to me, “Wow. What has happened to you? You are glowing!” She was giggling and kept repeating the words. I am continually reminded of my transition and reaping the benefits of my hard soul work. I am both encouraged and excited for the days ahead. While I still have brief moments of fear and doubt, they are quickly diminished by thoughts of my angels, the light, and all of you. You are my earth angels, and continue to set me free each day. Thank you and Bless You.

[
A special thank you to my friend Lisa for encouraging me to paint and for my friend Amy for opening up my eyes to the gifts before me.