wayward prayer

Remember being a kid and grown-ups asking, "what do you want to be when you grow up?"
I always thought that was the dumbest-assed question
in the world.
What does a kid who's age is still in single digits know
(or care) about careers and job markets?

But when my age got to early double digits, I got it in my head that I wanted to be a Catholic Priest.
I mean, it made perfect sense. I was already an alter-boy, could recite the Mass in Latin and just loved the smell
of the incense.

That notion of becoming a Catholic Priest stayed with me for a few years until two things happened. . .
First, I discovered girls.
And second, I learned the definition of the word "celibate".
My hormonally charged, adolescent response was, "you've got to be f*#kin' kidding!!"
And so began my lifelong study of comparative religion. . .
(There just had to be a tradition where I could be a Holy Man and still get laid?)

painting of Augustine by Botticelli

Well yeah, there were plenty, of course, but none of them climbed the fléche and rang my bell.
Then by and by I discovered Buddhism; and I knew for sure I was no longer Catholic. (if I had ever really been a Catholic in the first place)
"God" was no longer some figment of my imagination living up in the clouds;
"God" was within. . .

As an adult, I've been blessed with two inspirational spiritual teachers; Paramahansa Yogananda and Joseph Campbell.
Enlightened by what I've learned from those two men, I took up Yoga and Meditation and the search for "Nirvanic Bliss" was on.

The trouble, as I discovered, is once you cross "the Rubicon" to Nirvanic bliss, you either couldn't or wouldn't want to come back. It's a one way trip!

I've come pretty damned close to the water's edge more than a few times in meditation but for one reason or another, (like a good Cuban cigar or a SuperBowl party or another pretty young woman coming along) I haven't climbed aboard the Mahayana to sail to the yonder shore.

All the same, one day during this incarnation, I know I'll put my earthly desires (Kama) down and make the
Nirvanic crossing.
But until I do, to keep my options open, I've adopted
St. Augustine's "Wayward Prayer". . .

"Lord make me pure. . .
. . .But not yet."

mandala-mania

Sometimes the screamingly obvious gets right by me.
I'll be pondering along on a puzzle or problem in ignorant bliss, never suspecting there might be a hole in the soul of my thought processes.
But, by and by a light always comes on, I get a clue and the previously overlooked obvious is in my face,
up close and personal.
. . .Makes you want to say, "duh!"

So early last week I got interested in mandalas, beautifully elaborate pieces of artwork that have spiritual significance in the Hindu and Buddhist traditions.
In the Tibetan, Vajrayana flavor of Buddhism, they're developed by monks as fragile sandpaintings that, once completed, are left to weather the elements or are purposely destroyed. (The intention in mandala creation is same as with any creative effort. The real benefit to the creator is in the process rather than the product and in the doing, the aspirant creates a sacred space that helps focus the mind
in meditation.)

Anyway, there I was engrossed in a sort of "mandala-mania" for a couple of days.
I was creating and coloring and contemplating mandalas for hours at a time until, at some point, I had one of my
"moments of hmmm. . ."
". . .Doing these things seems so damned familiar. I'll bet I've done them before; probably in a previous incarnation. No wonder I've always wanted to travel to Tibet. . ."

Just then the phone rang. I turned in my chair, picked up the phone and looked at the wall to my left. . .
"duh!"

These are a few of what's left of a series of 30 acrylic abstracts I painted a few years ago. I'd spend hours or days at a time, usually outdoors, creating expressions of the vibrant colors and energy I felt (and still feel) are the essence of living life in the Keys.
The great vibe for me on this series was in the doing, my porch became something of a sacred space and I remember commenting to a yogi friend of mine at the time, that each painting was a two day meditation.

Sounds like "mandala-mania" all over again. . .

"The Dance", acrylic on canvas 11" x 14" - SOLD

"Four-Eyed Jack", acrylic on canvas 18" x 24" - PLEASE BUY ME

"Dancing in Havana", acrylic on canvas 24" x 36" - SOLD

"Diamond Jim", acrylic on canvas 26" x 26" - PLEASE BUY ME

"Walk in the Sun", acrylic on canvas 18" x 24" - SOLD

"Sea Creature", acrylic on canvas 30" x 40" - PLEASE BUY ME

"Metamorphosis", acrylic on canvas 50" x 50" - SOLD

"Ant Mary", acrylic on canvas 48" x 20" - PLEASE BUY ME

"Rooster, Rooster", acrylic on canvas 11" x 14" - SOLD