Quantum Autumn.

On Mon, Nov 10, 2014 at 12:47 AM, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

 

Good artistic quantum hunting day today, Nov. 9. in coillte Gleann Garbh, woods of the 'rough glen', Glengarriff.  Took 22 potshots with my digital bow & studying the results on computer. Quantum (refers to evolution of artistic eye) by stark contrast with a lifetime of spools of many miss shots in the thicket.

 Whatever about planetary raising of frequencies it shows through whatever art one is engaged in.  Enough of a day's catch to step up the painterly input of inspiration for the foreseeably imaginative future, learning a lot of leaps by just looking.

 'Quantum Autumn' now there's a title !  Has an almost Book of Kells illuminated look about it, and 13 letters too, numerically symbolic of quantum leaps, actually. 

Passovers of November showers in light like Constable captured.  Rainbow arc painted on scowling slate sky. Tapestries of illuminated oak twigs etched in white, startling against leaden purplish grey, the leaf fall in antique gold.  Beech browns deluge down thunderous white water over obsidian glazed black boulders shouldering ever green goths of moss and iron cast roots, a sheer drop to fast flowing dark and brackish water.

 Watch your step on shiny rounded cetacean slabs where the slow dark mirror shape shifts into a weir, medieval oak leafshapes collage patterns on gemstone pebbles in shallow pools between clefts, shimmering upside down bare black branches overarching the torrent.

  Rock grey here is dark and wet with Celtic green.  Meandering beech brown mosaic carpet pasted and rain pitted to the path.

At leisure later diving into images with the zoom.  Microscopic bunji jumps on a safe screen, splitting atoms and molecules beyond surface appearance, delving beyond delusive structures, noting how disintegrating dots link up like pearl strings to form the world we walk within, food for unthinking future brush work.

So, turning away as the last looming shower of the day, glazes a paler grey, dimming the illumined face of the frowning peak.  Following along by fast paced waters under ancient oaks.  Down pre

carious steep stone steps to take five parting shots from the lip of a lapped rock promontory at water level in mid stream.

Rehearsed seasons ago from the same spot with a crap camera and now remembering to return.

Shooting straight upstream into the mouth of swirling silken eddies and swirls, overhung with bare black branches and deep green banks.  Bull's eye parting shots where the body of Kerry River water swells out from a distant nexus along a timeless tunnel of oak lined banks, a monochromatic icon of all archetypal and dragonish rivers of vision, dark, majestic, and slow.  So, there you go, on with the flow. ~

~~~~  ~~~~  ~~~~

Martin Rainbowmaker.

A SOFT RAIN MOOD.

On Wednesday, November 5, 2014, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

Elusive mystery sublime.

Sombre, soulful, distant, grey.

Far horizons under rain.

~~~~

The living planet has changing modes or moods, that sweep across her surface like the subtle flicker of expressions across a human face.

These ever changing expressions are not simply ‘out there’, in a world separate from ourselves, but are modes of the Earth-mind, simultaneously reflected on the soul-screen consciousness of her sentient creatures.

Timeless, archetypal, and indivisible from the whole soul presence of the planetary Goddess, (being by definition she who gives birth to everything, everywhere, forever.)

 

VISUALIZATION:

While assembling a few specific words to evoke memory in imagination, i also did a small pencil sketch, only three inches square, to make it exactly visual. Pencils are perfect for visualizing.

Somehow, working that small, concentrates the focus of imagination. Feeling from within, softly coaxing and allowing an image which wishes to emerge in form. It’s a receptive, perhaps more than a projective process.

The pencil draws without pressure, on paper. The imagination draws on memory impressions. I feel my way into an imagined place, seeing into the subtle shorthand as if i was really there. Invoking a situation i would like to be in. Pinpointing precise characteristics, tonal relationships.

Most people think rain is a nuisance and it can seem so unless you’re dying of thirst, and that, ‘vision’ has something to do with opticians and short-sightedness. Whereas, what manifested here from nowhere in particular, was envisioned.

FOUNDATION.

Transpose the seedling idea into a larger pot, in this case a canvas, primed to the right degree between rough and smooth, relative to the detail and direction of brushwork intended.

I transferred all spatial relationships from the sketch to the canvas by measured marks on the edge of a cigarette paper packet, proportionately into the equivalent in inches.

For example, it’s important how high or low the horizon is, because that’s the eye level in the landscape. The higher the horizon the higher we are above ground, the lower it is, the closer our viewpoint is to the ground. It had to be exact. An original sketch often has features worth preserving.

Grey: A sober substance that expresses tonal density. Neutral and dispassionate with a kind of dignified gravity, unattached to any particular feelings of colour vibration. The gravitas of tonality. Degrees on the tonal spectrum between the void of oblivion and the plenitude of lightness. Tonality is an emotive factor.

The same applies to the tone of a colour, but with grey it’s not attached to any predominant area of feeling. Grey is like a background foil that serves to enhance the qualities of any colour it’s put next to by being neutral.

Combining neutral with primary and secondary colours has a lot of possibilities. It exercises an element of restraint in the all too common tendency to indulge in too many oversweet colours at once, thereby losing the theme. There are millions of examples of this on the internet.

It’s all about relationships, and ‘too many cooks can spoil the broth.’ Unless you prefer orgies to mutual understandings. I have explored the purest of combinations of primary and secondary colours in abstract and geometrical formations previously. What i’d call naked and intimate colour harmonies. But harmony is still about natural optimal mutual balance.

For anybody who thinks that landscape painting is somehow opposed to abstraction, this one small example is a lead-in to the sensual intuitive science which it is. But it’s about feeling-tone, and memory impressions, and what most epitomizes those impressions.

I’m focusing here on the subtle aesthetic properties of grey by contrast with popular prejudice. Something quite distinct from, ‘grey clothes are boring, grey streets are drab, grey skies are depressing’, etc.

It’s in the perception of the beholder, whether or not you bring love to something just as it is. Or whether you bring concepts of judgement and preformed prejudice.

Rocks and mountains are grey, skies are grey for a large part of the year, many birds and animals including cats are grey and we love to stroke them. So there’s nothing inherently negative about any of that

FOUNDATION (continued.)

So, i painted a neutral grey, positioning everything in its right relationship, and everything ‘is’ relationship. I learn much of relevance to relationship through painting. It’s not as if art only pertains to ‘an art form’ and not to life as a whole.

The truth that everything is inter-related and inter-dependent, which is a whole learning of non-duality, the one insight that can stop us screwing up the world we are one-with so badly.

The fundamental insight that divisions don’t divide, they unify. As in, ‘who’s fence is it, mine or my neighbour’s?’ Silly question, and not one that need cause offence, though it often does, and globally. Who’s national border is it?

Ours, right. We all have difference in common, it’s a mutual agreement. Distinctness is the surest sign of underlying unity. There’s never a ‘this’ without a ‘that’, and being spell bound by the magic of words we choose one and reject the other and think that’s what we are, when it’s a mutual relationship.

ILLUMINATION.

Enlivening the panel of grey sky, breathing life of the memory of clouds into it. From slow moving overcast brooding density down to distant horizons. Creating aerial space in full spectral distance. Softly modifying and blending nuances of authentic atmospherics.

Atmospheric means no harsh contrast must leap out, nothing too arbitrary. Attending to this, watchfully, mindful of distance, forms unfold organically by themselves. Bringing farsighted hypnotic horizons, where the slow motion action is, into full binocular view. Modulating appropriate muted colour tones of far off fields, illuminating tree tops in a rare ray of late light.

 

CULMINATION.

Accumulating layers of illumination, miniscule modification, fine-tuning, following, flowing with, and filling in the filigree of implied underlying organic web work, funnelling down to culmination and completion. Ten hours in all, not counting preparation.

Or the many contemplative tea and smoke breaks. Sipping in sweet silence of solitude, scanning every centimetre for anomalies. Anomalies in the flow, small but glaring glitches, calling for further attention and reintegration. From the viewpoint of a perfectionist squint with a night owl’s laser vision into the sensed but unseen. There’s always more lurking in there.

Till it ultimately winds down, to the relief of let-go, let it be, satisfactory enough to matt varnish, blend and homogenize any subtle glitch or glare to photograph, and leave well alone, looking long, cup in hand.

I wished for a way to share

and say, under clouds of soulful grey,

far horizons under rain.

Obscures a line of distant hills,

merging neutral tones of earth,

timelessness beyond the world.

Fields of melancholy grey,

mystically turn away.

A half remembered ancient dream.

~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~

Martin Rainbowmaker~

Art:

  A SOFT RAIN MOOD, martin law, Nov 2014

SOPHIA’S PLUNGE.

On Saturday, October 18, 2014, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

ENJOY YOUR TRIP. 

 

 

Mother Earth spins at 1000 miles per hour, and orbits the sun at 67000 miles per hour, which orbits the galaxy at 4883000 miles per hour, constantly entering unknown and uncharted territory where different conditions apply.

There are 500 billion galaxies in the known universe. There are, at least, 260 billion universes in the multiverse. The total figure typed out in 12 point type would be 260 million miles long. Beyond every ‘limit’ there is always infinitely more, without limit.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

In Wild Earth Wisdom we trust, flowing via Sophia from the core. Shoots upward from Lyran roots she first seeded reckless in Orion.

Her impassioned plunge a vast wave, pearlescent celestial burst from seminal spirit source. Staining incendiary seething stars archaic with catalytic alchemy.

Unravelling anomalous free fall unprecedented down through density’s spiralling curve, caught in the over arcing currents of flow, spread to infinity. Sizzling plasmatic in anachronistic alchemical synthesis.

Whirlpools spinning from friction in the long drag on downward , mutating wildly, crystalizing in deviant diversity, sparking inorganic versions of the theme, unintended cloning in clusters of neonate part-formed parasitic peripheral plague.

Till her serpentine umbilical tail turns over into herself, spinning spiral into sphere, crackling compressed crystalline sediment into synthesized spirit substance. Settling embryonic and foetal, incubating as an informed spherical Sophianic seed.

Still reeling from the first primal petrific shock of stunned anomaly, she regenerates ‘sui generis’ generous genesis, ensouling substance infused with spirit essence. Improvising multifarious diversity of sentient forms flowing forth from her fertility.

Our anthropoidal form envisioned in ‘her’ image, one with the weave and folds of pre-planetoid Aeonic essence, our body the fruition of ever-evolving celestial raiment.

Teeming with outrageous permutations, imbued with divine self-determination and spontaneous wisdom/beauty we glibly call ’life on Earth.’ This sublime self-creating sphere blooms and blossoms exponentially throughout a seam-free spectrum of macro/microcosmos.

She is awakening in lucid dream in the midst of the heat of battle. Signals pulsate through a mycelium of stellar synapses, synchronized through the solar deity in conjunction with massive electromagnetic waves.

The relentless inorganic parasitic hordes are exposed in ever expanding concentric ripples of luminescent organic living light from the plenitude of the central core.

Huge monolithic blockages crack open and burst their banks, flooding to flourish and nurture, tending toward balance and equilibrium. Antagonists overreach themselves, leaving in their wake only ungrounded irrelevance and disintegrating isolation.

The illusion of separation is perceived to be a temporary delusion on the face of underlying unity, which then establishes unshakeable roots culminating in fruitful abundance.

A critical mass regenerates and swiftly supersedes the remnants of irrelevance, which wilt for want of the wisdom of water. The ignorance of arrogance stumbles at the brink of hubris, preceding an ungraceful and ungrateful fall.

All of creation is creative and alive with infinite imaginative intelligence. Perpetually recreating itself in its own image. Seeded by the central source at the heart of all.

Seeds sown and strewn across light-years wide celestial galactic fields. Our precious notions are a pretentious pinprick in infinity. Yet this infinity permeates and perpetuates all our particles, and there is nothing that is separate from the source of everything.

Born in unacknowledged surrender one with all , in Wild Earth Wisdom we trust.

>>>>>> ^ <<<<<<

Martin Rainbowmaker. 

Art: SOPHIA'S PLUNGE, martin law, Oct 2014

 

Footnote.- Refer to John Lamb Lash audios re. ‘Sophia’s Correction’ for full context.

Gaiaspora.org, Metahistory.org and youtube.

AFTER THE STORM. / IN FADING AMBER.

(Improvisation on two songs.)

AFTER THE STORM.~

To be reborn after the storm

when the clouds are breaking.

New light wings of the dawn

eden fields awaking

eden fields awaking.

One breath return of the light

waiting for tomorrow.

Beyond reach of the night

and the waves of sorrow

and the waves of sorrow.

Dressed in white mist on the grass

timeless future vision.

When dark ages will pass

healing all division

healing all division.

Bright star child of the light

silently in waiting.

First birds angels in flight

eden fields awaking

eden fields awaking.~

RBM. 1997.

Dawnwise and rising imperceptibly pale pastel washes brushed gilded and brimming beyond the rim. Gone away the distant thunderous soundwave tsunami and no more bombs in eden long gone and banished forever.

Smoky veils warming softly flushed from beyond the pale blushed paleolithic and dissolving the still dragonish remnants of shade. High feathered flocks of dawnborne winged ones on waves returning in formation.

Dawn like a gentle breath a pale soft spirit face reflecting eyes of aspiration emerging soulful assimilating learning the long ancient journeys through fields of polarity. Deeper than the darkest anthems of experience deepening the depth of wisdom forever.

The antithesis of turgid turbulence and turmoil dewsoaked and redeemed in swathes of freshly washed purely unpolluted Gaelic green barefoot in the grass. Free flowing veils in futurity glimpsed among morning mist cleansing traumas of time spent in samsaric seeming separation from source.

While winged and in waiting the still small silent crystal pinpoint of light emerges from the brink and fall of near void. Rising from the hush the warming gold smiling to arise the birthing chorus. The first primal stirrings of feathered awakenings responding.

Much more immediate than mere metaphor the great central sun the plenitude and pleroma pulsing the planetary body in all pervading spirit essence. Bathing bushy bordered earthly enclosures released forever outside time in kind sublime macro mind burning beyond eons of the long sleep of illusion.

The true mystic fields returning turning the turning Earth into light. It's the song of songs awakening from the moronic mirage into the mystery of being at one within all inclusive of and outside categories and concepts.

May the crystaline ozone dawn breeze wash away remaining ragged remnant relics of rashly delusive and unspeakable atrocity with its guileful rumours of hidden hubris and needless intrigue and be banished into the deep void of the obsolete.~

IN FADING AMBER.

As the day is long and the summer evening fading amber, melting in the west in crimson shades and gold.

As the earth is round its true enchantment long forgotten, and the blackbird song beneath the shady trees.

Till the light returns purple shrouds of night roll over. So the wound will heal the wilderness will bloom.

As the day is long and the summer evening fading amber, melting in the west in crimson shades and gold.~

{ RBM. 2002}

And so flowing industriously in the sublime and turning day and ever after into the farthest reaches of timeless eternity. As the day is long like a song or familiar mellow memory from another age of life.

The long slanting shadows a dazzled glance to flicker and fade like a film in the dreamtime. With the molten solar orb a sinking regal archetypal icon hypnotically emblazoned glinting to glow through stained glass and intricate tracery of black webbed branches.

The image sustains in the last rays of ancient enchantment. Blackbird rustles among crisp leaves in dusky shade under broad and deeply sonorous sleeping trees. From the void the sentinel songthrush parting song.

Slow sailing slumberous sombre shrouded cloudshapes darkening dragonish bringing in the night high above. Realigning harmonizing soothing the past world's wounds from forever with nurture of healing rest. As the day is long and the summer evening fading amber melting in the west in crimson shades and gold.~

**** **** ****

martin rainbowmaker*

Artwork:
   PRE-DAWN FIELDS, martin law, Oct 2014
           Towpath Vision, martin law, April 2013

A Wood of Dreams Video Feature

A WOOD OF DREAMS.

On Sunday, August 3, 2014, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

Eyelids shade the high sun's glare, relaxing in high meadow grass. Just a pleasant summer breeze, and time becomes forgetfulness.

Childrens' voices fade away, on the path which leads through 'the wood of dreams.'

There may be mythic dragons there, antique fish that swim through trees. Footfalls on the trodden trail, spaces where the silence rings.

But for a single twig's sharp crack, nothing but bright sunlight streams, through hazel leaves and hawthorn limbs.

Around where willow nestles down, in loosestrife lush and meadowsweet, arteries of Earth's heartbeat.

Till time became forgetfulness, meandered on by contented streams. Deep spaces where the silence rings, with nothing but bright sunlight there.

One might settle here, or there. Manifest a table and a chair.

Something solid, made of wood, grounded in the living earth. Pause a while and take a rest, do what's wise and for the best. One could even build a nest.

Oh, but now what's this ? Thought has power it's clear. Whatever is imagined, instantly is here.

What kind of creature needs such a nest ? It seems rather large, and full of pine cones ! Whatever made it, must be friendly, glad i see no sign of bones.

Pine cones... Pine cones ? 'Pineal', that's it !

Straight from the mind's third eye.

But how in such a world as this, is a soul to take a rest ? I seem to recall somehow a bed is best. Passing through a wood of dreams, with the comforting voice of lilting streams.

When thinking of rest, a bed manifests. Tiptoe on stepping stones and tinkling pebbles to try it for size.

I find myself (whatever that means) on an archetype bed, and it's right in mid-stream.

What i didn't count on when thinking of snoozing, the mattress is soaked with water, and oozing ! I wasn't intending on taking a bath. I better keep moving and follow the path.

Must learn to read signs. But what signs ?

Signposts ? No that's silly. That way looks promising... (feeling chilly). Now i know how Alice must have felt, "curiouser and curiouser".

All very strange !

Signposts. Do you follow the signs, or the posts ? ... "FOLLOW THE POSTS."

What was it, i learned back there ? ' If you really must think, think clearly. Be precise and don't equivocate.' The tree deva says "put your best foot forward."

So now, with that clear, i'm entering a clearing, breaking cover, and there's a post but it's a totem pole !

It's a bit two-faced, looking both ways at once,

which i suppose makes sense when you've lost your direction. It does have an owl on top so i must be wising up a bit at least.

 

 

Wising, or waking ? 'Spaces where the silence rings.' 'But for a single twig's sharp crack.'

'Nothing but bright sunlight there.' ...

Eyelids shade the high sun's glare,

relaxing in high meadow grass.

Just a pleasant summer breeze,

and time becomes forgetfulness.~

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Martin. a.k.a. 'Makes Rainbows'.

( Special thanks to Wendy for the way which i wended.)

ENERGY OF STONE.

On Sunday, September 21, 2014, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

What race of beings put these huge uniquely shaped boulders so high up on a steep hill?

Eons before a crane was even a twinkle in a megalithic man's imagination.

Archaeologists have said, they were 'put' here two thousand years ago, but 'put' is a funny sort of word in this context, and that's putting it mildly. Assuming there were no cranes, trucks, or even roads two thousand years ago. Artifacts are usually far more ancient than they are conventionally said to be.

Besides, these ones are four hundred and fifty feet above sea level. There's a panoramic view from up there and not many loose rocks laying around. The tallest stone is thirteen feet high. Possibly the tallest in the whole country.

 

It's said to have originally been twenty feet tall but that it 'broke off'! The uppermost part 'put' back in place, minus the base (which must have been pretty long and heavy to hold it steady) as recently as nineteen thirty eight.

Even so, unless there was zero gravity two thousand years ago it's a strange choice of objects to 'put' in such a place, as to mystify generations for that long, to the point of apathetic amnesiac familiarity. I mean, 'they were just primitive Bronze Age people weren't they ?'

Primitive?! I know that hill, i've pushed a bike up it. You'd hardly get a modern crane up it without it toppling or getting stuck. The sort of hill that reminds you why a bike used to be called a push bike. Unless you're a masochist or a tip-top testosterone teen in training. I speak from experience of course.

 

Obviously they must have come the other way, primitive people aren't stupid. They'd have to come down from higher up. Then do a sharp right and across, but it's still up and down on a narrow winding back road.

But there weren't any roads! Rutted muddy horse and cattle trails more likely. You can only imagine the dead weight of these bulky stones, they're massive.

 

Down from the hills with a heavy cart made of tree trunks, solid block wheels with bronze axels and no brakes that wouldn't burst into flames. Then a sharp right turn on a steep slope and then a few miles of twisty boggy gradients. Makes no sense at all.

Whatever was pulling them would have been totally wrecked in all ways and been run over by sheer density and volition. What race of beings would go to such fruitless trouble and why? I've heard of killing two birds with one stone but no, forget it. I prefer the miracle and mystery that the unthinkable was probably the case.

I can only suspect that the mystery is far deeper than we've ever dared to imagine, and due mostly to ingrained scepticism and i'm completely open to acknowledge that.

Life on Earth is infinitely stranger than "Bronze Age Celts, burial sites, beacons, megalithic tombs", etc. Look at Newgrange or Stonehenge, or Avebury, Egypt, Baalbek, (Baalbek !!) Adam's Calendar, (South Africa). Gobekli Tepi, pyramids of Giza, Europe, China, South America, structures in the high Himalayas and down deep on the ocean floor. Heavy stuff.

Totally global, and interconnected by geomantic lines and networks of planetary acupuncture. It really is such a vast subject that it encompasses everything.

Like the network of energy lines that surrounds the globe. There are plenty of writers, researchers, and dowsers who go into it in detail. Like Freddy Silva, in his book 'Secrets in the Fields'. Or Maria Wheatley, a dowsing adept with profound knowledge. 


 

'Ley lines' is a generic term for the planetary web of lines of force. Where many of them cross is a point of geopathic stress. It makes sense to access and recalibrate this energy with large crystaline stones , piercing the earth like acupuncture needles.

It's even suggested that wi-fi can be transmitted along these energetic lines. If so, and they are electromagnetic, then why not also telepathy and out of body travel, i wonder.

After all, the concept 'primitive' is just a conceit of current technocratic civilization.

Genuine crop formations regularly manifest exactly on earth vortex points. Most likely fine-tuning and stabilizing the planetary energy grid for its current progress into areas of uncharted space where turbulent flows of torroidal force have been detected.

Spirals of magnetic energy surround specific stone alignments creating a vortex, which has been shown to alter brainwaves to the alpha range. Also to produce a frequency just two degrees of Hertz below audible sound.

Harry Oldfield and other researchers have been able to photograph a rainbow spectrum around megaliths, corresponding exactly to the aura and order of the human chakra system.

 

My focus though is primarily artistic. The visual beauty and presence of these stone monoliths. They are always uniquely impressive triggers of inspiration. Human relation to the energy of stone goes back a long way.

There is emerging physical evidence that, there may well have been "giants on Earth in those days." Along with the forever presence of higher dimensional people of all kinds inhabiting unfamiliar and long forgotten realms.

Highly advanced civilizations come and go in cycles of millions of years. As this solar system among uncountable others swirls around the galactic core at 4883000 miles per hour. Spiraling through uncharted infinity from a golden age around to a higher golden age, our present destination.

That there were many civilizations far more advanced than this one is plainly obvious. Evidence and artifacts and visitations have been hidden from us until recently.

 

 

So i'm in no position to prejudge evidence of my terrestrial and extraterrestrial relatives and ancestors. They are way up ahead of me in this field.*

*** *** *** ***

Makes Rainbows.