Well, in posting, Something New Coming Soon, I have been deeply reminded of something I expressed on my Death As The Master Gardener post years back, in addition to something with more depth of feeling than philosophy:
Rest is a death of sorts, a rejuvenation time, especially utilizing the way of Tarot in the Land of Mystereum. Death is also outright. Finishes. Completions. Death is the mother of memory, and the fertilizer for dreams.
Here’s what I expressed then that gold-panned a nugget from my experience that goes hand in hand with a larger gift, one of those indelible Songs Of Experience that arrive throughout life simply when we do:
Death is the mother of memory, and the fertilizer of dreams. Yes!, to that. And, it continued:
Death is the mother of memory.
Death creates our individual Songs of Experience, together,
amends the soil of our Soul Garden,
actively and actionably nourishes and makes our dreams real.
Yes. And, now sooner than before.
Stay tuned this week.
Also, I received a wonderfully touching gold nugget gift of a surprise that was no diamond in the rough that was abduced from my memory revisiting this painting’s cyclical journey. It watered, nourished with the first three comments on my last post, Coming Soon, Something Is Waking Up.
What was the gift? In a way it serves up a preamble dish for what is coming soon, as I was influenced to remember something I cherished. I remembered death, and a poignant and meaningful memory resurrected. A portal of emancipation of robust value arose to light my way. In a way it was The Hermit seeing, acknowledging, zen-taking the steps to step back into the old shoes of the first footprints of the cycle just completed. I see those steps. I feel them in memory. I resonate with them in the journey from there to here. As I step into my own footprints anew, the first footprints embossed into the birth of a previous cycle, I step into my own footprints differently. Because, well, its now. Songs of Experience message the soles of my feet, touch my groundgrabber toes, message straight up into my imagination.
May the road rise up to meet you.
~ Traditional Irish Blessing
May the ground rise up to support your every step, especially ground that wasn’t there before as you began the step.
~ The Fool in Tarot in the Land of Mystereum
Karen Sealey of Pure & Blessed Tarot, The Pure and Blessed Way chimed in, I smell something beautiful in the air. My smile was priceless, the squinchy-nose goofy kind you hope makes it to posterity.
Holly Troy of Cosmic Holly watered the portal of the memory of this painting’s history without knowing anyThing about it, Love the painting! That perfect, unconscious safe-cracker timing removed a cover stone, flushed out a wonderful reminiscence, and then emancipation as the history resurfaced. As know I could hold it.
And then, after I expressed this painting’s story, Bonnie expressed, What a touching story. Resonant icing on the cake, a tall glass of water to go with the water of tears that flowed from this experience. Gotta fill those tanks back up ya know? She did that for me.
I find reasons to be unreasonable most times, especially here in this experience. Actions are simply infused with them. At most they are impetus, much like, to bring surety brings ruin. Like Mystereum’s, Be comfortable with the not-knowing. It’s the fade of forgetting that makes for getting, makes more room for the good stuff. Like, Know thyself, one of the three Delphic Maxims from the Temple of Apollo at Delphi.
So, no more preamble, here’s the good stuff of where I’m going with this post, just in advance of the creative venture that just went into labor and is on its way to birth, Coming Soon. The gold nugget good stuff here, the just-before-what’s-on-its way is a gold nugget of memory that was gold-panned out of a simple comment: I love this painting!What a catalyst to induce! What a simple key to unlock a re-surfacing at just the right time. Beautiful, deceptive simplicity. As simple as a key. Hmmm, what do keys do? So, I am going to hold the space for this gift I was given of my own cherished memory re-surfacing robust and full and fresh. No edits below, like you wouldn’t edit a mother in labor before a birth — those who say it cannot be done are better served to stop interrupting the person doing it ~ Chinese Proverb — and simply post my response in italics below.
In inception, conception, birth, and soon to naming.
Thanks for visiting and being here now, especially right now as this upcoming creative seed unfurls from its Place of Creation Womb fully formed. Nope, not an abomination. No Dune references (regardless of which version you dig).
A New Living Memory Gold Nugget Gift
Thank You! And, thank you for the accolade.
I chose #16 from my ‘Constructing the Center” series as it just felt to be right. Little did I know, that upon your compliment, the wonderful and sad and full reverence of this painting’s story would re-surface. I express my heartfelt thanks for that.
My experience and history with this painting passes through occasionally to re-posit a perspective of the importance of now, though it has been years since I felt it from this painting fully. You certainly don’t need to read the rest if it comes to being TMI about what this painting did after it graduated from my brush. Suffice it to say I am proud of it, and proud of what its nature did for another vibrant person.
This is one of my personal faves in the series, The compositional white space feels to do as much as the paint to dance the image into life, circles completed by the unpainted white space. It was #16 in the ‘Constructing the Center’ series of 66 mandala-like watercolors. At the gallery opening where it was 1st presented, a woman smiled and reached out to me and the gallery owner across the room. We both felt it. Turned. As she smiled and turned back to the painting to continue her finger trance-dance across the glass of the Uni-Frame.
We came over. She was just beaming. “Constructing the Center #16 you call it Mr. Hoggard? Hmmm, CtC #16. Hmmm. Nope. I say, Sweet 16. Besides the color sense I love, so joyous, and JUST FUN, it just has everything, and half of that is comprised of nothing Mr. Hoggard. Jordan! You IMPLIED half of this!. I LOVE that laziness that probably took more planning than the contrary, or (looking me up and down) maybe you didn’t plan anything, just painted? Oh, I love the balance. The feel. The colors. What’s there. What’s not there in connected complement. Oh, hmmm. Oh Lordy. Where will I put it? Ah, that’s the 50% not there. I don’t need to know that right now. May have to reshuffle a bit. Don’t need that reason buzzkill right now, cloud my decision. Yes. Yes, I must have it.” Instant red dot on the label from the gallery owner. And, I’m there beaming, too, wondering where my words went. I know now. I didn’t need any. It was the feeling of knowing that something I did enhanced another’s life.
I stood there enamored in her resonance with the image, honored, and love that I was also taken aback, a bit confused at 25 years old. She was so astute with her emotional resonance as to why she loved ‘Sweet 16.’ Heck, I didn’t even take issue with her re-titling it. Heck, she adopted it after it graduated. She gets to name it, and it’s not moving back home. It’s started to make its way. And, that I had created something that someone valued that deeply? At the time, all I said was, “Thank You,” as we both stood there swimming. I, in something that graduated from me provided to another that enhanced their life, her simply basking, more wondering where in her house did it need to find home… like it was already there.
I felt something in that experience I will never forget. Honesty and emotional truth in what you find beautiful, in what moves you. Yes, it was my creation, though hoopy to the vanity of that. That SOMETHING I created moved someone that way, that intensely, calmly, honestly, in the moment? She taught me a great lesson that day about what are yess-es and what are no-s.
Thanks for striking the nerve in me, the ancient chords on this one. I hadn’t resurfaced that memory when I posted it. It just felt right. Your resonance was plenty enough, though, fulfilling to feel what she taught me again, fresh again now this painting and her speaking to me fully again now liberated from their treasure chest to be worn..
And, I hope this was not too much. Your compliment dropped a smile on the portal they were in to open it for me. Thank you for that.
Not to be cagey, though if you read down this far, the short story is more important. One day, in 2002 a package arrived. It strangely looked like something I was used to shipping out. No return address, actually my address as the return address. ??? I opened it, unwrapped the contents, and there was Sweet 16, and a card fell out. I was stunned. “What is happening here?!!???!!!! I opened the card.
I have been diagnosed with Stage 4 pancreatic. It’s one of those that even I IN MY lyrical way can’t sidestep to flip the poisonous turtle limits back. It’s quite a menace. That said, I do not give up. I live. I love living, love experience. Though, this Sweet 16 that you made has given me so much joy every time I pass it. Will it EVER stop dancing in your 50% laziness of execution? I handed Sweet 16 with this card off to my son in my will. So, if you are receiving this, know I cherished Sweet 16 and your spirit. Thank you. Heck, what else can I say? Thank you.
(My name’s moving on.Please keep yours fit, and take care of Sweet 16 for me)
I love that I’ve been brought to tears here. Waterfall. Thank you. This experience is a gift I cherish.
Thank you, Holly. I gather as well the original owner thanks you as well from somewhere beyond. SHe was an effin lyrical firecracker, quick on the draw, and most everyone around her glad for it.
What Are They About to Open Into?
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