The same day as the NY art book fair I decided to opt for a talk at the new school about Buddhism and psychedelics. The first part of the adventure was about an author who spoke about his work. What really stuck out to me was his talk about ego, and what it meant to him. A specific story he shared was a dream he had at 8 years old. He said he walked out onto his front lawn and distinctly saw the subtle differences in each blade of grass. He didn’t see the lawn, but rather the distinct beauty of each individual blade. That made me think about a painting I’m currently working on- a meditative field of orange and pink grass. It made me wonder about how I was approaching painting them.
After that, one of the speakers mentioned going to the Rubin and each individuals right to exercise “expanding their minds” although they would not supply anything. It was very surreal to engage with so much ancient detailed art with a group of people who were able to comfortably think in abstract terms. One work that stuck out to me was a contemporary installation. It was a sheet of mesh stretched out in between a round piece of plastic hanging in mid air. The viewer was to push and touch the fabric with their hands and body, to see different colors and sounds emerge from it. It was projected live from the back of the darkened room. It made me think more about my own thesis and intentional space, and wonder what decisions could call for interactive behavior from the audience.
Afterwards we went to a healers house. He was trained in native American shamanic healing years ago after surviving cancer. It was fascinating to look throughout his space called “the launchpad” and see so many different artifacts. He put a hat on me that I probably would be shamed for wearing in any other context. I was fascinated by the handmade beadwork all over it, and the craftsmanship and time that went into making such an object. It was surreal to have on me, and a little bit funny.
I explored with my friends for awhile, and the day after the experience I wrote this poem.
Launchpad
I looked at him and I was afraid
of
losing the love I felt.
letting go of myself.
He said what I needed to hear
But I did not say what I wanted to.
Time and space moved by-
Love or the unity was split into two
So that we may continue to exist,
To understand and perceive ourself.
I did not want to unify into the one.
I am not ready.
Forever giving what we need to take sends me into shivers.
Feeling pain and love as the same sends mind scattering onto the walls.
Following with no other choice
I looked at time through the back door
A hundred faces, moments, hidden
Tracing the ones that
I know
you are someone else.
You have been me in the future and I am you.
I fear losing you in the current.
The last time I let go,
You were not there when I returned.
But hiding between time.
I grasp to identity
And let go to see that
It is still there.
Closing my eyes,
I feel pain
As I do pleasure.
One the absence of the other.
Without either,
Us.
3.
Time.
The Eye.
The Moon,
Split into a million fractals.
A tunnel,
The solar system-
Something I forgot,
Your bracelet.
I don’t want to die without you.
Though,
I may only know you through separation.
Fear inflicts pain though we are the one receiving it.
Please let me stay here forever I am not ready for the end although I am exactly that
T h e b e g i n n i n g T h e e n d T h e M i d d l e
I want to go there to see us although nowhere we are not.
Pain for not both pleasure we all not.
I am you
Are.
I was.
You aren’t.
Later before yesterday?
I forgot my
Who-
Are we?
Here we are-
You sure?
I think in time the penguins learned they have always been Lily,
You always have been through all these lives.
Forever unbecoming ourself.
Forgetting.
Unweaving the tapestry to begin again,
To save time, myself.
By losing us I am myself through sacrifice
Of other me, my wonderful nothing,
My
e g o
.
