Once when traveling, I saw a flock of birds that flew in the shape of one bird. Her head was dotted with the wings of many and they extended in a perfect form across a violet-gray sky. All their tiny bodies united making up the magnificent form of this great bird, this royal giant in the sky.
How do they know how to fly in this pattern? Do they come into this world just knowing this by nature? Are they taught by other birds and why do they follow in such a tremendous flock behind a few, all so carefully spaces and within a sphere of perfect flowing?
Now I know the explanation that when birds travel is swarm intelligence, but usually, they fly in a V formation. This was extraordinary as they flew curved, rounded out with a perfectly formed beak outlined in a hundred birds.
It wasn’t missed on me that on some level they had created their own pointillism painting, a technique of painting in which small, distinct dots of color are applied in patterns to form an image. Nature is its own artistry, but these birds had gone a level beyond.
Our creative swarm intelligence is always at work in its own vibrational flux, eternal and ever-changing. We as artists are drawn into the vast realms of possibilities’, combinations, mixing media, shaping stone, connecting notes and so forth out of this source, co-creating as we go, uniting as it were, the threads of all material light and sound, form and shape breathing life into a kaleidoscopic wheel.
The techniques, the styles are not lost and can be learned from masters in a study and in connecting to this Swarm Intelligence. It is not lost, they still exist, the echoes of their voices and all the works of before, still remain in the source, the vortex, the mind of God. They can be accessed in the stillness of mediation in the activity of the one creating and in the language of the Perfect attunement that is available for all.
You know there are those moments, usually for me, right before I fall asleep, I see the words of a poem, or hear a melody and think, I should get up and write this down or otherwise it will be lost to me forever. It was in one of those moments that the words were flowing through in an eloquent stream, trailing off into space somewhere, that I saw pages, pages flying to a shelf, my dream paintings hanging on walls and music everywhere like a spinning record that I could touch and play the lost songs born in dream time. There is no despair in anything purely created for creation sake. It matters not if another sees or likes it or pays you a million dollars for, it is the generating of the creational frequency itself that matters. It truly is the life breathed back and outwards, it is the touchstone for the weary, the inspiration for the muse of your innate soul and the beauty of it all that is brought into the world. Outsider Art, Fine Art it is all the same in the mind of God, it is all respected in his infinite applause of co-creation in itself.
As I watched those beautiful birds flying in their own painting, I felt so honored to be in the presence of their performance art, blessed to recognize the perspective of their truly participatory movement in co-creation.
We are like them, all moving individually to form a creator’s consciousness in the world. It matters you matter and all of our highest and deepest soul intentions are present in the here and now.
Kindred soul unfold…your fragrant ardor to behold your Passion quest in a new renaissance, for the path that our dreamers took their carriage rides across in cobbled hooves, still abounds.
The water of nightly rivers is not a forgotten place it is the exception thereof, where many romantics still watch over from their hovering golden moons
Those long picnics of pen and wine now linger only in old photographs and linen prints that may lay in darken trunks and archives have not vanished, they are in the reaches of your deepest part.
How is that we think that time must go so fast when there is no definitive end to creation, expanding the co-creation of universes, of works far greater in purpose than we know?
How is it that deed and service and production of art must be hurried? Where roses aren’t gathered and children are left alone in their imagination to wither and fall unnoticed of the beauty they so lovingly portray with nurturing their imagination
Kindred spirits unite in the band of light painters
Who by grace are given talents to awaken and sustain the artistry in the young so fair with promise and affirmation?
A legacy of sanctuary finds us in hallowed halls
Breathing of inspiration and belonging.
Providers of dreams come upon us and bless our gathering place that all might pursue their dreams in comfort and acceptance.
There is a place for us, ready and waiting alive in a wellspring of technique and masterful manifestations of our creative beings.
Neverlands Inc. Arts 