Hammock Sleeping 36 X 48"



I LOVE the experience of painting at night, in so many ways. I learned some time ago that the real thrill of creating with colors, and textures, the true treasure of the experience, that almost always unexpected, “Oh, WOW!” moment that keeps one moving forward,

NEVER comes from capturing what you think you already see. The moments of genuine *discovery,* that will jump right up and off the canvas and back into the soul, brighter than before,

tend to cross my path when I stumble most blessedly into the hidden, or interstitial, as in [between spaces that first seemed so solid]. So there can be a feeling of falling at times, but there’s no other way I know of, that is safe.

Where you “up the ante,” and will find that things get really interesting, is when you take whatever that *next step* may be, beyond that which shows, or follows the outlines of a pathway known to you.  There will always be an element of risk in it, yet you’ll do it anyway, for some crazy reason that you will probably never understand, but in any event need not explain.

& maybe on the opposite side of that small (giant)  leap you may find what has always patiently awaited the hour of your awakening,
& the gift of your vision

(We all need one another, though we forget)

Because the realization that might start to dawn on you is that there’s never been any *void* anywhere, unless all and everywhere alike may be music of the void, in unison
(& I don’t think so)

When a moment suddenly comes alive, it’s like something’s breathing there, and… what is it?  Probably some part of me unclaimed
or otherwise put, it’s all in motion, together, with no part of anything excluded.  And so it is with us, whether or not we see
“It’s a ‘landscape,’ right?”  “Yes, if I am a pina colada!”
(A delightful aspiration, come to think of it.)

“But hey Paul, it’s just a scene from life that you’re painting, right?”

“NO!, I am painting my experience of that scene.”

(Thinking “G*ddam artists, with their %^$#* bullsh*t,”) and I can understand, but say,

“No, it’s not that way.” [ “That is not what I meant, at all.  That is not it, at all.”] 

“Which is what, exactly?  Your ‘experience,’ I mean”

I’m afraid that there is no way of answering that question, until a painting teaches me. If I already knew, why would I paint?

Yet, there is a profound kindness at play here, you have to understand;
because on one level that is not unimportant, I have no idea what I’m doing. Why? Because I don’t want to! I will *know* ever, only if I am always somehow learning through an experience that is new
What’s new?   


Otherwise it holds no interest for me. Oh Lord, hear my plea:
We who live, suffer (we’re good, with the “joy” part, thanks)
When I am awake, may I be awakening
Trusting that the pain is more cloud than brick wall

And when I sleep, may I dream, always bigger,
always closer
to another infinite Awakening
to dream

So when my time has come, and I no longer cast a static shadow
upon ground always spinning dizzily in space,
Those who love me might ask “Hey, Where’s Paul got to?”

And they will see the answer when least expected
up in the stars
out in the sea
And they, God bless them, will smile,
and say “Ah;
he is exactly where he’s always been, and wanted to be!”

And maybe a bird on the wing will fly overhead,
high up against the sun,
or the breeze will caress a palm frond,
or you’ll hear a child’s voice of discovery,

and you will feel, with zero doubt,

Thank you..

Post Script: “Jeez,” he thought as he hesitated only briefly before pressing with this finger the spot on his keyboard triggering “Publish,”
I REALLY hope this translates”
And just then, he could have sworn he heard,
ever so softly,
the kindest & most gentle laugh
you can imagine

& he said to himself


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