With Fresh Eyes

 

Often it happens that after I have spent hours in an art museum, when I come out onto the street, I see life differently—as if everything before my eyes is a painting. This effect lasts intensely for a few minutes and then wears off. But for those first moments, I am in an entrancing altered consciousness and seeing with new eyes.



(The above two images are an example. The image on the right is by famed French expressionist Jean Dubuffet. His work is in museums around the globe. The image to the left is a photo I took on a street in Granada, Spain.)


Viewing abstract non-objective art is so abstrusely personal it can seem to be anything in ones mind’s eye. Later, with an opened imagination out on the street, cracks in the pavement or ripped posters or the blur of traffic becomes art; because that is the way we have been thinking and experiencing visually. It has happened to me many times.

The image on the left below is torn poster paper I spotted on a street in Amsterdam, Holland. The image on the right is a large painting by the famous American abstract expressionist painter, Franz Kline.

 

Sometimes photography and art are closely related. A giant of twentieth century photography, Man Ray is on the left, (below). Henri Matisse's work, is on the right. He also worked in Paris at the same time, but is known for his drawings and paintings.

 

I love art! It expands my vision and creates new ways for me to see the world—with fresh eyes.

An Early Awakening

When I was but a toddler, my father would carry me in the early morning to the local bakery. We took a route through the back alleys behind our tenement building in Chicago. It was before my brothers and sister were born. He would hoist me atop his shoulders and I would hold on to his head. At the bakery he put me down and when the door opened, the light, warmth and sweet fragrance poured forth. On the way back one morning, a bird flew into the brick walls nearby. It is so far back in my memory . . . but I distinctly remember the fright of the beautiful winged creature. Was it blind? Or trapped? 

Why did this brief experience have such an impression on me as to last all my life? Certainly, to see a bird fly against a wall or glass, as if blind, is a jarring sight.

Now, six decades later, I drive to work and park my van in a city garage, then take my bike out and ride to my gallery. There are four parking levels. Birds come in the garage, and sometimes they fly up the stairwell and think they have reached daylight at the top level, only to smash into a big panel of glass. Often, feathers are strewn about the concrete floor. Once I found a dead bird and took it home for burial.

Birds represent freedom and are like unto spirit. In many ways they are angelic. So to see one fooled by glass and be trapped or hurt flying into a transparent barrier, reinforces the feeling that physical life is not what it seems—it also holds death. For my childhood eyes, the vision startled me, but also was an early awakening.

This Dream

On occasion, I have been able to see into another dimension—a spiritual realm of greater reality. It is a place that transcends the material world and goes beyond time and space. I had such an experience just today, but first I will describe a couple other episodes from when I was in my twenties. I was traveling with a few friends to visit a Native American man on the Navajo reservation. We had stopped outside Gallup, New Mexico to visit someone who could tell us the way. I was in a chair, not paying attention to the conversation and instead half dreaming. A vision came to me of driving on a dirt road, and arriving at a place where an Indian fellow was building a house, laying cement blocks by hand. Suddenly it was time to go, so we headed out and in about ½ hour, we were on a dirt road and then came upon the man, building his house exactly as I had seen earlier—including the wall, and him with his trowel in hand laying the blocks.

In my book, A Heart Traced In Sand, I recount another spiritual experience:
For years I had felt the presence of angels that reside in God’s other realms. When I was twenty-two, during a summer break at the Maryland Institute, College of Art, in Baltimore, I moved to a small town in Maryland and rented a room in a YMCA. One evening while ending my prayers, I felt a change occur around me. I seemed to be wrapped in a hazy, otherworldly light, and suddenly the perfumed scent of a thousand roses filled my nostrils. Turning toward the one window in my little cubicle, I saw a shimmering light come down, pass through the wall, and then hover above me in the approximate shape of a person’s aura. Immediately I knew I was in the presence of a spirit and was frightened. The light shimmered in place, waiting for some acknowledgment, until with trepidation I said, “I am afraid. But come into me.” Then it descended into my soul and for a few dazzling moments bestirred my whole being before vanishing.

Every now an then, my third eye glimpses into the spiritual world of light. But I can't predict when the door will open or what I will see. Several times I have been praying from the depths of my soul over some important matter that is weighing heavy on me, such as when my daughter was dying and I could not bear to see it and needed help. I cried out in anguish. And then I got a glimpse of angels who were smiling and  calm as could be. This sort of infuriated me at the time—that I was so anguished and they were absolutely calm in the midst of my storm. I did not understand what help this was to me, but accepted that I was the one whose vision was limited. This happened again today, but it has come to my awareness that in fact, despite appearances here, all is well in heaven. All of us have one foot there already.

Here is a poem by Hafiz:

Forgive The Dream
All your images of winter
I see against your sky.
I understand the wounds
That have not healed in you.
They exist
Because God and Love
Have yet to become real enough
To allow you to forgive
The dream.
You still listen to an old alley song
That brings your body pain;
Now chain your ears
To His pacing drum and flute.
Fix your eyes upon
The magnificent arch of His brow
That supports
And allows this universe to expand.
Your hands, feet, and heart are wise
And want to know the warmth
Of a Perfect One’s circle.
A true saint
Is an earth in eternal spring.
Inside the veins of a petal
On a blooming redbud tree
Are hidden worlds
Where Hafiz sometimes
Resides.
I will spread
A Persian carpet there
Woven with light.
We can drink wine
From a gourd I hollowed
And dried on the roof of my house.
I will bring bread I have kneaded
That contains my own
Divine genes
And cheese from a calf I raised.
My love for your Master is such
You can just lean back
And I will feed you
This truth:
Your wounds of love can only heal
When you can forgive
This dream.

Inner Eye

All creatures have eyes, to navigate the physical realm, and these eyes are miracles of creation. How is it then that while we humans sleep with our eyes closed, we see fantastic places, and witness events unfold? For this, an inner eye must exist and be open. Many a time, a person has awakened from sleep, and opening their eyes to familiar surroundings, also recalled fantastic visions that remain fresh in the mind and spirit. How often has it come to pass that later, a person has appeared exactly as seen in a dream. This is the clairvoyant power of the inner eye. The word “clairvoyant" has its origin in 17th century French, from clair ‘clear’ + voyant ‘seeing’—clear seeing. Clairvoyance is deemed supernatural, meaning beyond natural law.

The thing is, we struggle for our physical existence, but not our inner life. So the physical needs are much more pressing and seemingly, urgent. Therefore, we elevate the senses to the top, and let our inner eyes languish. Furthermore, people become suspicious of what they cannot physically see and even reject life beyond the senses. The seventeenth century German writer Jacob Boehme, (probably April 24, 1575 – November 17, 1624) wrote, “for he who sees nothing says nothing is there; what he sees, that he knows, and further he knows of nothing but that which is before his eyes.”  The Confessions of Jacob Boehme, by Jacob Boehme.

My belief is that what our senses perceive is infinitesimal, and that our inner eye can perceive far more, if we open them to our conscious mind. Recently, I read in the Baha’i writings:

“Man is in the highest degree of materiality, and at the beginning of spirituality—that is to say, he is the end of imperfection and the beginning of perfection. He is at the last degree of darkness, and at the beginning of light; that is why it has been said that the condition of man is the end of the night and the beginning of day, meaning that he is the sum of all the degrees of imperfection, and that he possesses the degrees of perfection. He has the animal side as well as the angelic side, and the aim of an educator is to so train human souls that their angelic aspect may overcome their animal side. Then if the divine power in man, which is his essential perfection, overcomes the satanic power, which is absolute imperfection, he becomes the most excellent among the creatures; but if the satanic power overcomes the divine power, he becomes the lowest of the creatures. That is why he is the end of imperfection and the beginning of perfection. Not in any other of the species in the world of existence is there such a difference, contrast, contradiction and opposition as in the species of man. Thus the reflection of the Divine Light was in man, as in Christ, and see how loved and honored He is! At the same time we see man worshiping a stone, a clod of earth or a tree. How vile he is, in that his object of worship should be the lowest existence—that is, a stone or clay, without spirit; a mountain, a forest or a tree. What shame is greater for man than to worship the lowest existences? In the same way, knowledge is a quality of man, and so is ignorance; truthfulness is a quality of man; so is falsehood; trustworthiness and treachery, justice and injustice, are qualities of man, and so forth. Briefly, all the perfections and virtues, and all the vices, are qualities of man.” ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, (Persian, 23 May 1844 - 28 November 1921) Some Answered Questions