always listening, Monotype of the Day #517

Day 151 of Year 2 (Actually Day 152)

I almost didn't get this one done tonight. I had another project that had to be completed. I'm tired, but I did it anyway. Just a quick sketch to keep the creative juices going. So many good things happened today, it's funny that this image is so grouchy. I think it's my body speaking and not my spirit. "GO TO BED, it is 1:30am!" I will listen. Until tomorrow. xo

When They Sleep
by Rolf Jacobsen, Trans. Robert Hedin

All people are children when they sleep.
there’s no war in them then.
They open their hands and breathe
in that quiet rhythm heaven has given them.
They pucker their lips like small children
and open their hands halfway,
soldiers and statesmen, servants and masters.
The stars stand guard
and a haze veils the sky,
a few hours when no one will do anybody harm.
If only we could speak to one another then
when our hearts are half-open flowers.
Words like golden bees
would drift in.
– God, teach me the language of sleep.

From the website Poetry Chaikhana https://www.poetry-chaikhana.com/blog/2010/06/14/rolf-jacobsen-when-they-sleep/
https://amzn.to/36nAM56

dreaming, Monotype of the Day #352

My mind feels empty of so much of the muck that filled it for so many years and I am grateful. When did that happen? I think it is a combination of showing up everyday in my studio to work (a type of meditation) and my meditation practice, which though sporadic at times has been part of my life for many years. There is so much to just showing up. You can show up for years to what feels like no results and then bam, one day it clicks. Our conscious mind is aware of so little of what is really going on under the surface. All winter the earth rests for spring. It's hard to see the same process in our own lives, but it is there. So I will continue to have faith in my own process even when it make no sense, as is often the case, and keep showing up. Getting the sleep (that elusive friend) I need will come.

When They Sleep
by Rolf Jacobsen, trans. Robert Hedin

All people are children when they sleep.
there's no war in them then.
They open their hands and breathe
in that quiet rhythm heaven has given them.
They pucker their lips like small children
and open their hands halfway,
soldiers and statesmen, servants and masters.
The stars stand guard
and a haze veils the sky,
a few hours when no one will do anybody harm.
If only we could speak to one another then
when our hearts are half-open flowers.
Words like golden bees
would drift in.
-- God, teach me the language of sleep.