WOODS LIFE Painting by Gord

This is a multi medium creation. I’ve used oil pastels and acrylic paint and inks in this one. I’ve tried to create the sense of illumination and less than ideal forms of birch trees. I love painting birch trees; something about the contrasting affect. My paintings never turn out how I envision them to but I am happy with this one.

Where to Turn?

These days there is a strong realization of how much of my life has been lived in ignorance and how that contributed to suffering both of my own and for others. Of course I didn’t know any other way at the time, as so many others today don’t know what it is to live without ego. It’s only in recent years that I have emerged from that cloud of confused identifying.

As well there as increased intuition of the collective consequences of living in ignorance and a fragmented envisioning. Our collective human living has directly contributed to our contemporary global problems. They have arisen for a reason and it is no surprise to me what is happening on this planet at this time. Humans have a responsibility to address this or to continue be deeply affected. There seems to be only one way through it all; not in returning to old ways, but in bringing a deeper awareness to life and living and in realizing the vastness of our interconnection and how our actions and behaviour affect our lives.

The Words of Poetry

I am content enough in my aloneness. I have no need to distract or to divert from it or to seek to remedy the sense of loneliness that at times may arise. I turn to what I am beyond words and look to do away with all conventional meanings of why and how because these ineffable revelations realized in silence are the source of what is meaningful.

It is partly in the conventional use of language—the construction of abstract words, concepts and the meanings, that we assign to them, that we come to rely on something other than direct experience to know life. There are, on the other hand, the words of the poet, the ideas of a poem not being those that occur to the poet before he writes his poem, but rather those that appear in his work afterward, whether by design or by accident. Content stems from form, and not vice versa. Every form produces its own idea, its own vision of the world. Form has meaning; and, what is more, in the realm of art only form possesses meaning. The meaning of a poem does not lie in what the poet wanted to say, but in what the poem actually conveys.

What Freedom

We believe that we have the basic rite to freedom to choose, but is our perception limited. Do we know what we think we know about truth and freedom. In our individualistic conditioning are we truly aware of the consequences of our choices and actions. In our rational intellectual thinking are we aware of what has manifested from our human choices in terms of a fragmented perception and the avoidance of responsibility. Can we really know the intricacies of truth and freedom when we cling to unexamined notions and concepts about them and most of all of who we are.

Finding My Way

These days I find myself living life more aware of what occurs in direct experience as opposed to looking for direction in opinions or other external influences how life should be lived. It raises the question of wether there is something lost in our collective reliance on external messaging that involves abandoning this kind of direct experience. My own sense is that our contemporary way has been so greatly informed by external fact and opinion at the expense of a more internally focused direct way of living. I don’t know if rational dialogue and intellectual debate will suffice to change my insight. It seems to arise from a more contemplative, meditative orientation to life, beyond language, that helps me to see more clearly; to attend to, and ground myself in a way of life that involves a more conscious, subjective quality of awareness. It seems to me that life does involve both a cerebral dynamic and more intuitive inner one and if I don’t make the effort to question it the immense external conventional influence out there often encourages a more cerebral engagement in life. For most of my life that has been the priority that has been encouraged. Despite settling into a more experiential engagement with life I am not renouncing the external experience. There are absolutely times when cerebral ability is called for and I embrace that aspect of my being. I use language, orally and in writing as a way of creatively expressing my experience although at this point in my life I am more aware than ever and able to differentiate between the tool of my being and my being. That helps me to more consciously distinguish and to refrain from going on about things that I have no experience with and from being trapped in belief that shuts me down. It enables my heart to be more available and open. I use words as a creative tool to describe my experience. Words are often limited in attending to more ineffable inner experiences.Art, music, poetry are much better means for that. I don’t go around espousing a theory of how to live. There is much more to being than what is written or spoken. I suspect there are many ways to find more passion, compassion and selfless sharing and giving in our lives. What more could one ask.

Living in the Moment

This past month of social isolation has allowed for more contemplative moments. One thing that I am more clear about as I settle inwardly, in presence, is that everything that I have used over the years to build a self image, that I unconsciously used to divert and distract from a greater truth of my existence is crumbling away. It was all so superficial, so it seems.

In being alone like this;in this awareness, the more conditioned and conventional habits fall away. There are less distractions and diversions to take refuge in. Presence is right there to be accessed.I am grateful for what that brings, being able to once again awaken in the morning and experience a child like sensation of looking forward to the day, with no plan other than to enjoy living it. This is something that I had forgotten in my becoming something other.


For me there is the experience of vulnerability in shedding of what is old and obsolete of the self and in the reorientation and adjustment in the return to a state of poverty. There is a sense of vulnerability, not something experienced as a permanent state, but having to do with this re-encounter with what is unknown.

In describing “poverty” Henry Corbin wrote that it is the fundamental condition of human existence. He refers to this metaphysical state as mystical poverty: where all things derive not from themselves, but from a source that is the grantor of Being to everything. Mystical poverty is the true state of all beings: each and every thing has nothing in itself, is nothing in itself. Corbin tells us of the seventeenth-century Shi‘ite Mir Damad who heard “the great occult clamor of beings,” the “silent clamor of their metaphysical distress;” it appeared to him as a music of cosmic anguish and as a sudden black light invading the cosmos. [2] This is a direct experience of what philosophers call the contingency of being, and it gives rise to the great question of metaphysics “Why is there something rather than nothing?” For the gnostic, it takes the form of a moment of annihilation and terror, destroying the solid foundations upon which the ego and the literal world are built.

A degree of poverty is a prerequisite for the experience of the fullness of the world. In our desperate grip upon the world we are block ourselves from that direct experience of witnessing the form emerging from the formless. Creation unfolds only in letting go; when power is renounced and a state of poverty is realized. The things of this world grow opaque when we try to control and possess them. They withdraw into themselves and contribute to further blockage in access of the riches at the roots of things.

From Tom Cheetham’s newest book: After Prophecy: Opening the Eyes of Fire

Being Vulnerable (again)

I’ve had ongoing revelation regarding the notion of vulnerability recently, influenced by a talk I had with a colleague at one point last fall. In our discussion of feelings encountered in awakening, the notion of vulnerability came up. She mentioned to me that perhaps it was important to maintain boundaries if one was experiencing vulnerability.

After some time I experienced an insight. That is that the “egoic self“ does require boundaries. The boundaries we are talking about perpetuate and reinforce a manufactured sense of individuality insulating a person from external threats of one sort or another. But there are also other things that boundaries insulate one from; things perhaps quite fundamental to our sense of what is natural of our being.

Liberation actually involves a loosening and stepping out from those boundaries of ”self” into whatever might be left that is natural of ourselves. Initiation involves risk and challenge—to shift perspectives we must be willing to experience our own vulnerabilities. But we must also have the inner confidence to not be paralyzed by those vulnerabilities in order to move forward toward greater integration. In that mindful falling away we die to what has been superficially conditioned in us that has provided insulation and security in to the illusion of separateness. This pursuit has not allowed for deeper awareness and realization. In our readiness to step out we discover a more subtle revelation of the mystery of life and being. There is opening to deeper understanding of the birth and death of the form that we have found ourselves a part of. In so doing we come upon a vast new experience of expansion of consciousness and knowing of our “Self”; much more than can be realized as a “self”. Vulnerability might not describe that experience comprehensively. There is an aspect of existential angst that is part of it that we are likely averted to as well.Vulnerability seems to be likely something encountered along the way, that is inseparable from a a more vast sensitivity, unpredictability and sense of interconnectedness that is encountered in our natural state of experience.