pollination, Monotype of the Day #622

Day 252 of Year 2 (Actually Day 257)

Tonight's poem is my favorite bee poem. I had to post it to go with the theme of this print. But this poem also relates to last night's post- so much can happen while we are at rest. xo

Last Night As I Lay Dreaming
By Antonio Machado, Trans. Robert Bly

Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt -- marvelous error!—
that a spring was breaking
out in my heart.
I said: Along which secret aqueduct,
Oh water, are you coming to me,
water of a new life
that I have never drunk? Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt -- marvelous error!—
that I had a beehive
here inside my heart.
And the golden bees
were making white combs
and sweet honey
from my old failures. Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt -- marvelous error!—
that a fiery sun was giving
light inside my heart.
It was fiery because I felt
warmth as from a hearth,
and sun because it gave light
and brought tears to my eyes. Last night, as I slept,
I dreamt -- marvelous error!—
that it was God I had
here inside my heart.

From The Longing In Between, Sacred Poetry From Around the World https://amzn.to/2JiiyIO

as above so below revisited ghost print, Monotype of the Day #367

Day 2 of Year 2

There's been a lot of drama at my house this week. Nothing serious, not health issues, just the tougher stuff of life rearing it's unwanted head. It's put me off my game in the studio. So what does an artist do when their flow is interrupted? They play. It's a wonderful opportunity to try new things without any expectation that they will work out. It's pure enjoyment and exploration with zero pressure and it's a really important part of being an artist. Without play it is so easy to get stuck in your ways. Instead of clinging to an idea of what was working, I've let myself go (and that doesn't just mean forgetting to brush my hair! 😊) Old structures need to crumble to make space for new. Let them crumble while I play and soon enough I'll have my flow back.

BTW, a ghost print is a second print made from ink that is left on the plate from the first print. Swipe to see the first print that the ghost was made from.

Is my soul asleep?
By Antonio Machado

Is my soul asleep?
Have those beehives that labor
at night stopped? And the water-
wheel of thought,
is it dry, the cups empty,
wheeling, carrying only shadows?

No, my soul is not asleep,
It is awake, wide awake.
It neither sleeps nor dreams, but watches,
its clear eyes open,
far-off things, and listens
at the shores of the great silence.

xoxo

the artist has a fever, Monotype of the Day #236

I actually feel much better now that I’ve made my daily print. I’ve always maintained that making art is healing so it makes sense. A poem of healing to move things along. My brain is fuzzy, but I keep this one taped to the wall of my studio:

Last night, as I was sleeping
by Antonio Machado (trans. Robert Bly)

Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt -- marvelous error!—
that a spring was breaking
out in my heart.
I said: Along which secret aqueduct,
Oh water, are you coming to me,
water of a new life
that I have never drunk? Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt -- marvelous error!—
that I had a beehive
here inside my heart.
And the golden bees
were making white combs
and sweet honey
from my old failures. Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt -- marvelous error!—
that a fiery sun was giving
light inside my heart.
It was fiery because I felt
warmth as from a hearth,
and sun because it gave light
and brought tears to my eyes. Last night, as I slept,
I dreamt -- marvelous error!—
that it was God I had
here inside my heart
http://www.poetry-chaikhana.com/Poets/M/MachadoAnton/LastnightasI/index.html

A Poem for Inspiration

Honeycomb

A friend just reminded me of this beautiful poem. Thanks Katherine!

Last Night As I Was Sleeping
By Antonio Machado

Last night as I was sleeping,
Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that a spring was breaking
out in my heart.
I said: Along which secret aqueduct,
Oh water, are you coming to me,
water of a new life
that I have never drunk?

Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that I had a beehive
here inside my heart.
And the golden bees
were making white combs
and sweet honey
from my old failures.

Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that a fiery sun was giving
light inside my heart.
It was fiery because I felt
warmth as from a hearth,
and sun because it gave light
and brought tears to my eyes.

Last night as I slept,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that it was God I had
here inside my heart.

I may just have to incorporate this image into my next painting....