A wisp of smoke in the summer air

On Sun, Jul 22, 2012 at 12:22 AM, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

>Thanks Dan, i'll write this to all of you(s), in a sunshine colour.
Bit wispy from sitting in the sun, or to be more precise, the garden, intentionally doing nothing 'cept maybe breathing and looking and listening, metabolizing on a cellular level, after a long session clipping, weeding and sculpting the front lawn.
Predictable electric music drifting over the hill from a stage in Bantry square where there's something on for a few days, something to do with boats and pirates and fluttering flags and the town's probably full of drunken sailors running off with all our women.  Good. Make room for some better ones. While i sit drinking coffee minus Tshirt squinting into the glare feeling like a male version of Cinderella on a pumpkin.
Was in town yesterday, first person i saw was a friend who slapped a bold lettered poster on to a telegraph pole, which read:WARNING. TAP WATER IN BANTRY CONTAINS TOXIC CHEMICAL FLUORIDE. This is in breach of European Directives and is a serious potential health hazard.  Please do not drink it.More information available from:   'thenationalfluoridecouncilof ireland.com.'
He also gave me a copy of a poster, the gist of which may be of interest and local grapevine to you all and can be seen at:
'soundsamazing.org'   Somebody i've known a long time doing this.  Fair play to you, and admirable, i said to him later, and he appreciated my response and almost patted me on the part of my back that's healing nicely.
Talking of blogs, with a nice fire, a milky coffee and a roll up.
Not exactly ready to go. Haven't really written anything yet, but for the dream thing which needs typing up and improving and i wish i could come up with something better. My dreams leave a lot to be desired, i'm sure yours are more interesting. Rarely even any women in them, never mind angels or ET's or cellestial otherdimensional vistas. This one's typically sordid and predictably traumatic. What kind of a lightworker am i?
Had almost no emails since to reply to, which, given a receptive perceptive ear on the other end tend to turn into usable articles.
So just at the moment i'm not sure what to say to the people of Earth without being provoked into inspiration except maybe "quit threatening to get your shit together endlessly when the right date arrives, and for once in a million years start inhabiting the planet and give up making endless videos about brutal cops beating up old ladies and waffling about collapsing economy when there isn't any, (economizing, that is), and investing in another take of the gold rush instead of planting anything half edible that will grow, like, beansprouts not greenbacks, worst thing about money is it's tough on the digestion. Not to mention drone strikes and legislation confiscating guns, clubs, gun clubs, spears and rolling pins. There 'are' ways to decalcify the pineal gland but you've only got less than a week to get a tribe together where there wasn't one before they come crashing through the front door without asking for an appointment.
But there are hopeful signs.  Despite total crop failure and toxic pollution of all water.  People everywhere are waking up to the obvious fact that governments are there just to govern and that turns out to mean not helping you water the tomatoes after all and they're disillusioned.  And what will happen when the food additives wear off and how will you explain in a wholesome and joyful way to your children about the birds and the bees when there aren't any?
I mean, what in carnation...? I was (so to speak) born in 'the second world war', (who's idea was it to start counting suddenly?), and three score and ten years round the sun later they're wondering how to arrange a third one and who to invite.
But i'm not too worried, i hear that China just bought america so that, presumably, under new management it won't be business as usual.  'Business', with a capitalistic 'B' is just a camouflaged way of saying 'being busy', busy getting more and more for less and less.  It's called 'profit'.  Fitting if you're a Pro.
The previous tenants didn't do that.  They were all for 'giving'.  And we never forgave them for that.
Even though it's glaringly obvious, even to a slightly 'civilized' creature, that, if  GIVING, is everybody's main activity, then everybody is continually RECEIVING since they are two words for the same process, and so no need for 'life insurance', or banks, or being 'governed', or even the all familiar community-disintegrating divide and rule legal slavery ethic called 'competing for a job'.  I mean, how can 'competitive co-operation', ever, succeed?  Ask yourself that.
No. We lost the plot from when plot-loss was inserted into the script by those who worshipped the profits of old, or gold, or just getting more for less which is properly called  'just taking'. Or theft if you like.  Basically, unless everything is based around sincere and perpetual GENEROSITY, nothing works (except the slaves of course), and you don't have to be a celebrated sociologist to deduce that.  Theories of 'civilization' indeed!
CIVILIZATION.  I look at the definition in the dictionary.  It says: 'To bring out of barbarism.'  (Oh really?)  'Refinement' (!)
'Refined culture'.

No. Sorry. Won't work. If the civilized basic assumption that our natural state is 'barbaric', (and that IS the assumption. Never mind who 'the Barbarians' were), then it follows that we have no sound basis to base our tampering with the natural, on.
What's more 'barbaric', than 'civilizations'?  Especially this one.Did hunter gatherers practice genocide? Democide?  Why are we trained to think that human creatures in the natural state were primarily competitive, and not CO-OPERATIVE? It's primarily a 'civilized' notion.  You know, 'primitive people'!  And what did we do to them?  What are we still doing to them?

Well, we are bulldozing them out of their harmony with the natural surroundings which they very sensibly revere and respect and care for, and dare not pollute or defile. Then we build greedy chemical factories for profit only that poison their water and air. When they naturally resist, we shoot them.
We have never done anything else because we are 'civilized' you know.  The myth of progress is backwards.
Did you ever notice the beauty in the eyes of an uncivilized infant when he or she smiles?  There are no words that convey such alive and appealing innocence.  Would make you wish you had a friend who smiled naturally with such lack of guile, (a word we forget to use), a word similar in meaning to 'guilt'.
Would make you wish your whole family smiled and laughed so naturally. That you were an extended family or tribe so lacking in guile all the while, especially when they smile. That's the beauty of the human soul for you right there.
So.  I coin a new word you haven't heard before.  EVILIZATION.
Or even, 'Western Evilization.'  Though, tell me, or ask yourself, how on Earth can there be an east and a west on a sphere?  And where precisely does one become the other, and when do you apply the brakes?  North and south, okay there's the poles, though they are shifting rapidly.  But east and west?  Keep going and you're already coming back.  So much for western evilization and it's progress.  Back where you started by going too far.  Which says a lot.
All illusions inherently embody the seeds of their own destruction, thankfully, and become dis-illusioned which is a good thing to be.  For us that is.  At least it's a start.
Yet, i will never forget, the light of mischievous but natural innocence, the absence of the burden of civilized guile.  The light in the smile of indigenous child.  Says more than all these words put together.  That being so, perhaps i will have to paint it.
Maybe call it, 'Bulldozers, back off.'  Or  something similar.
One thing leads to another.  Naturally so.
Martin Rainbowmaker.  ><><><><><><><><

www.SURVIVAL for tribal peoples.

art : Moon River Girl, martin law, 1996     (see updated pic of artwork)
       Many Moons Past, martin law, 1990  (see updated pic of artwork)

Out of the wood.

On 11 July 2012 02:46, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

>>>>Just to announce i'm free,
or seem to be.  Out of the maple wood.  Off duty from the ministry of leaf loving.  MOLL.  Approximately 50 hours (i made a note of it) , staring into this woman's face that shape shifted every time i looked.  Scanning for such fine anomalies that i can hardly tell what i'm seeing.  I notice my left eye is a bit sharper than my right, which is funny cos i always lasered with my right for the optical illusion of 3d.  Maybe from so much right brain focus.

Finishing touches , so fine they weren't there.  I felt the process accelerating to a fine bottle neck V point>>>>V; (VV), like those buffalo traps indians used to stampede herds off a cliff, a device called a 'piscin' which is funny cos it's irish for kitten.
Anyway, that's how they got their dinner.
Just going to matt varnish it a second time to take the shine off the minute modulations and so there's no surface sheen to distract from the illusion of 3d which is a fascinating phenomenon and varnishing is such a cool homogenising trip.
So i could email it tomorrow when i go to the launderette not that that's where i do it from that would just be a washout.
But it feels good to be free of finishing touches. Wouldn't want to have to do them every day.  I wonder how Rembrandt Van Rijn and Leonindo Da Varci didn't have a nervous breakdown.  No wonder Vincent kept em chunky.
So i planted 12 parsnips and 24 carrots and transplanted the herbs into a neat little spot, earthed up the onions so they don't go brown on top musta been the damp last year, and decided on a sunny place for the butternuts having googled about them, the nutterbuts. The yellow pepper is doing elegantly well but the tomato, that is, the true tomato is not getting the sun it needs to accelerate despite being in the front east to south window. I diluted a drop of 'tomorite' and gave it a homeopathic trickle
but these M class flares seem to be making earth weather moody.  But shucks i'm out of the wood and glad i don't have to channel Rembrandt every day for a living.  Trees are much easier.
I did listen to Drunvalo Melchizedek, wonder what Lashy thinks about his name. Listened to the three latest Lash navigator satnavs. And wonder how you're getting on, living in the living room, sounds like you've got the right room anyway by the sound of it.  Oh!  I never knew before that if i typed all the way down to the bottom, it would move the page up for me thats very kind or clever i've been doing it by hand all this time.
I've had the phone off the hook while i was in the maple wood and haven't seen too many exciting people, nobody visited anyway perhaps since you were last here or at least since the last Deepa and Carmel visit (see archives) and mostly see people when i go into town but they're mostly a bit strange.
Having beans on toast for breakfast in the Bakehouse today around five o'clock i had the notion society is like a zoo. I mean, so many people are an odd shape and size that i wonder how they lie down without rolling out of bed, and so many people seem to be mentally compromised maybe the water doesn't help. And one wonders, is the 'holy water' poisoned too? And does anybody know?  So yes, a zoo will do. Like 'Fota Park', only this is just' Part of Folk', a 'Folk Park' you might say, a nature reserve in reverse.  Not worth worrying about. Not everybody wants to ascend into their truest potential.  If the internet is any indication, there's a bit of a drought (had to look that one up) of imagination on this planet of what a full potential might look like. As they say, "ah sure, we're only human."  Er, excuse me.  What planet is this?  I was supposed to get off at, er....
And thinking out loud, "it must just be 'the Kali Yuga..." and the person sitting opposite you passes you the sugar....!
Anyway. I only meant to say i'm out of the maple wood. But it was nice in there.  And much more real than the internet. Speaking as an 'armchair traveller' mind you. But of course, we're "only human". And sure, "it's just your imagination."
It's like when 'Gandhi' (a common name i believe) was asked, "Mahatma what do you think of western civilization?" The story has it, that he replied, " I think it would be a good idea."
My answer might be, ' I think i'll just go back into the wood in my imagination.  It's nicer there.'  Maybe i'll buy some maple syrup.~~~~    ~~~~ A telepathic echo thru the trees from me.
Trusting you're all resonating well.>>>+<<< Rainbowmaker.

artwork : a love of leaves, martin law, July 2012

Waking Update.

On 9 July 2012 16:32, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

>Slowly waking update
after a fifth nocturnal nine hour session concentrating minuscule whispers of energy with a fine brush on a 10" by 14" canvas till the orange street lamps blink out at exactly 5.30. And rising at 2.30 after a good eight hour rest with no dreams remembered.
Thanking for your message from the P.R. muse department, nice to know there's another nocturnal watcher out beyond the streets
where neighbours process their televisual overdoses in prone slumber.
Reporting that the painting process, microscopic laser focus of imaginative light, diminutively inconspicuous as it is in the vast scheme of so called things is well and into the fine retuning phase. Faces must be the hardest thing to paint. They change before your eyes according to the light and angle of vision and the slightest sable eyelash whisper of inconspicuous nuance and modification and all is totally subjective and relative to what you just looked at a moment before. But the aim is to breathe life into substance through such silent invisible whispers. The slim brush, (a new one with a fine point) held lightly and weightless between generous thumb and forefingers like the reed of a wand it truly is and ever was. Love and respect for the timeless rudimentary tool, such that whenever i wander in the wild or wood, inevitable that i pick up a small stick or wand of willow, as if to dowse through finger touch the holographic link with all the mind makes in it's impressionistic meander. The sense of touch, of such refinement of gentle sensitivity the world knows little or nothing of in it's bombast bomb blast blind brute force.
More power to a butterfly's wings and the world we wish into being.
Meanwhile, healing continues with the small crater on my back as extinct as i can get it slowly subsiding into the contours of the terrain with a fresh soft dressing and blessing.  And the next door pup yaps out the back and will hopefully let me plant the carrots and parsnips without piercing my ears. Having turned the earth between showers for air and wind, if not sun to dry.
Another session, or two, with paint should do , to bring the vision glimpse to fruition and completion. I will tie it to an arrow and email send when such is so, soon, i'd say, not long to go.
As the preliminary pencil drawing pales by comparison, and need not be incorporated in the next blog.
But 'A Love of Leaves', a small ritual of remembrance, where we see, momentarily, as if through the eye of the hummingbird, the lone indian woman in the maple wood , a clearing in the cathedral of falling leaves.  Spellbound in a soft sun's golden glance, the palomino companion shuffling, breathing the crisp scented air. She, in the moment , gazing beyond time, with an untroubled bonded sense of 'the people' and to 'all our relations'.
Mitakuyeh  oyasin.  Holding the large red leaf by the stem, between generous thumb and nimble forefingers, a banner for the love of leaves, a bright blaze from the heart.
For 'The People'. May they live and thrive.
>>>>+<<<< >>>>+<<<< >>>>+<<<<.     ~ martin rainbowmaker

artwork : Bright Flowers, martin law, June 1997

Muse update break

On 6 July 2012 01:08, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

>Dinner break at 11pm, after another nine hour session with paint.  That's at least three nine hour sessions not counting the preliminaries of drawing and retracing.  I recall saying i hadn't squeezed a paint tube for a month.  Actually it was four months.  Actually last night's session was all evening till 6.40 a.m.  ~  In my element.  Nobody knows or has ever seen how slowly i work or with what microscopic precision.  A snail with a brush could overtake me.  That's just what it takes, always did.
And so methodical. Constantly scanning like a colour coded proof reader. A process like nobody would ever imagine.  More like a seance.  More like a receptive nurturing than a gestural doing.  Everything being brought up to the next stage in unison.  From the ground work to the fine retuning.
Inevitable always, the to be anticipated phases where it's not working and the conundrum of what do you do. That's where it has to go to another level of emerging. Original guidelines are merely an arena for lifeforms to grow and be nurtured. From imagination to three dimensional form and space takes perpetual modification.  Working with a small brush without an actual point, (i just forgot to get a new one.)  And doing the impossible with barely any paint on the brush but always aware of exactly what's in the brush tip, turning it imperceptibly to do something backwards. I'm slower by far than a dentist or any surgeon and maybe about level with a snail.  It gets slower and finer the closer to the fine tuning.
I meant to say,  O! Or to be more exact, 'S', for some sunshine.
Did do bits to the lawn between showers, and traipsing through blogs and updates wondering what the armies are up to behind the fourth of July scenes. Update update hello operator! And did manage to find latest speak from Drake today.  Wading through all the sour grapes of disinformation and sceptical character smears.  Get the impression tactics are flexible to get it right in a kaleidoscopically changing field.  I do still feel something's happening, but that the game is complex.  Certain people have been apprehended elsewhere in the world.  Like, one at a time.  Chess-like moves.  But then, i only play 'snap' or maybe 'lexicon'.
Great if you happen in Bantry.  You could all form a human shield so i wouldn't have to cut up another side street, bits of broken paving stones everywhere.  Barely enough bottled water for a drink think i'll have another peep at the canvas, tis like obsessional compulsion but that's the nature of the game and it's healthy, life affirmative, sane , and rich with the loam of fertile abundance as well as transmutationally transformative.  As well as ironic that i sit still round the clock celebrating the divine female essence in her muse aspect like any self respecting earth poet and dates have been thin on the trees for too many aeonic harvests and all i get is nagged by psychic midges and smothering vampiric leeches all for my own good of course wonder if Robert Graves had the same trouble? And a lot of these people i hear interviewed don't seem to be any better or worse than i am maybe i should interview myself and save electricity.
Eternally creative as a mountain spring~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~RBM

artwork : Giant Boulders, martin law, 1995

A steamy coffee break.

On 3 July 2012 18:01, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

>Bush telegraph reporting,
A diurnal journal. Smoke signals lost in the mist. Resort to gorilla tactics.
Hope your mega bites are healing. Answered the door to a young fella with a clip board.  "You got our letter we would be calling?"  Cork Co. Council. "Oh yes, what's it for? Is it anything to do with money, like putting the rent up maybe?  "No."  Oh that's good, anything to do with smart meters? "No, you can apply for them if you want."
"It's just that a lot of people are moving and we're doing a survey to make sure every house has got what it needs so we can attend to needs more efficiently, i'm not the council i'm just on a 'fas' course. OK come in.
A noteworthy example of how the imagined list of worst case scenarios is so often due solely to a conscientious consensus minded secretary being unable to write an informal  and transparent letter of notification that acknowledges the obvious, that we're both equally human.  Easy to forget that when you're paid to sound as if you're doing 'a job'.
Steamy July, under a mist grey overhang of jacuzzi drizzle and no shadows.   Walk to shops for organics and chat.  Proceed through a string of consecutive synchronistic conversations all on the same page.
First, from a doorway, where i once caught my foot in a handbag and rolled head first downstairs and out into the street totally unscathed and nearly knocking over a passing pedestrian.
From this door steps my writer friend of many wonderful imaginative books.  Most notably, 'Tilly Greenway and the Secrets of the Ancient Keys'.   So we hit off on a humorous rap about imagination and how they covered over our idyllic childhood world with tarmac and forgot to get to know the neighbors.  A most uplifting updraft on a corner kerb in the misty drizzle, bidding a soft day with a mutual turn of dry wit.
Vision is alive  and magic is afoot in wet green munster.
Around the next corner, my fellow friend and Rainbow Warrior , of past medicine circle gatherings, with a copy in hand of his ongoing project book and board game full of colourful diagrams and details of The Medicine Circle and our rambling spontaneous rap echoes mutually where the previous one left off, with simple and obvious practical radical solutions to the dying dinosaur's collective red tape catastrophe.
And we simultaneously notice that, beyond the wet street of shop fronts and chimney tops with the ever present swooping black crows, and in a field beyond the market square, on a green hillside sloping to the harbor is a string of large white letters spelling out 'Bantry 2012' and the 'one' has fallen over!  And we banter about why and how these surrounding fields are not used for growing ample vegetables for the town, so the coke swilling kids with their baseball caps backward and nothing to do but swagger in baggy pants and trainers could happily hoe their frustrated warrior energy and cultivate food free for the taking like they are actually doing in the north of England and elsewhere.
You don't need money to grow food. It grows by itself.
All you have to do is care for what's there.  So i continue on my meander, buying a few basics.  Water for example.  Since what comes out the tap is poison.  Without a single word of exaggeration.  Bleach to keep you white on the inside.  Fluoride to finish you of slowly, lowering your IQ if you've got one.  Producing a list of ailments to keep 'pharmas' in business, ailments all down the list, physical, mental, emotional, spiritual, nervous system imbalances called 'normal human behavior', and total amnesia to anything else.
Whether you're septic or just skeptic,  Google it!  Don't just gargle it.
Passing by the supermarket before returning home to a garden full of food to light a fire and settle in to my next native american painting, titled, 'A Love of Leaves'  (13 letters), and sighting a certain person from afar and cutting up a side street, leaving the pieces to fall where they lay, i then see Annie approaching, her broad brimmed leather hat in the rain, who straight away says, "I just got back from California where i stayed with american indians".   "!woW",  says i backwards.  We must get together over coffee and tell me about that.
This is just a shorthand sample from a diurnal journal from a short shopping trip on a uniform grey soft wet day on the seaward side where the rolling folds and hollows of rumpled carpets of lush wet Munster green slope and slide down of course to the sea. The Atlantic sky a distant wash of grey salt mist across the bay to the Beara in a mad scattering of soulful gulls above rooftops.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>


artwork : Unknown Planet, martin law, March 2005

A Cistercian Chronicle.

On 19 June 2012 00:55, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

>With the sun going down over the south-western tip of Eire(don't forget to pronounce the "e"), though that's not strictly accurate.  Rather, that we, the Earth herself is rolling over on her side, all of herself at once.  Though i admit, that doesn't sound quite so romantic.
Just to mention again, that word:  "Treibh", Gaelic for tribe, spoken to you by an opalescent humanoid who came out from under the trees the other night, almost coincidental with a lunar surge, seems something John Lash might regard as a "Terma", or spiritual treasure.  That the phantom figure said something to the effect that, "I will go and get the treibh", if my pronunciation is anywhere near the mark, seems significant in the context of a 'De Danaan' quest in the company of the host of nocturnal breathing trees.  That being said, all the more so the experience itself.
So what's 'a cistercian chronicle' got to do with it?
Merely, this being a random chronicle of my visit to the doctor with a long term cyst which, common as they are, and after twelve years, suddenly decided to go chronic.  Or at least inflamed. Having the effect of my back suddenly feeling as if i'd fallen asleep on the Costa Del Sol, lost in a good book.
I sat in a waiting room for half an hour, being the first to arrive, even before the doctor. Waiting rooms! The walls always covered with advertisements for cancer and what you must do to not have to think about it. Along with the equally typical framed print of an oil painting of a boat at sea being ravaged by a storm. Waiting rooms are designed to put people at ease of course.
But for anybody who easily gets sea sick, you should take a wee drop of rescue remedy to see you through the surgery and what e'er maybe tide.  
The female doctor was quite pleasant, my usual doctor being away till next friday. Hope he's well. The last time i saw a doctor was twelve years ago, for the same thing. I rarely ever see a doctor anyway. I just assumed they've mastered the art of invisibility.
All pleasant and relaxed, we talked freely with no hierarchy.  I always expect unconsciously, to be reprimanded for being a renegade and prescribed a bottle of arsenic. She had a look at my back and said "it's red". I wasn't sure what colour it was as i had some difficulty looking, even with a mirror, without dislocating my neck to top it off.
I was frank (not what my friends call me) saying, quite casually that i had no intention of ingesting anything pharmaceutical as i never get sick anyway.
I did mention 'black salve', which had been suggested, which she hadn't heard of , so promptly Googled it. "How would you spell 'salve'?" She asked. So i spelled it.  Like 'god save the queen with an 'L'.
"Oh", she said, and we agreed, not to go there. "Burns away the tissue leaving a black hole as a scar".  Haha no, worse than a holiday in Calcutta, i mused.  We talked quite freely about homeopathy with no raised or lowered eyebrows, as i have a friend who is also a friend of hers, who recommended  her to me, who is a certified escaped homeopath. I did point out that 'silica' is good and had worked miraculously for me on occasion.
Also mentioned how i'd totally healed another cyst , also twelve years ago by putting one of those ' foot patches' with herbs and minerals in it, the names of which escape me.  But they effectively draw out toxins from the whole body , or according to which area of the sole you put it on. Did that for a week and it never since came back.
I enquired about the wisdom or efficacy of having it drained. A minor operation she said. But no guarantee it wouldn't return.
So, me, not being a pharma's boy at heart, and not wishing to drink anything, she prescribed me some anti- inflamatory ointment.
I thanked her for the nice talk, said something funny about the weather and went and got the prescription filled and bought some silica tissue salts.
I haven't used the ointment yet, but i'd say my excellent immune system will know how to process it. I took a magnifying glass to the ingredients noting the familiar poetic use of similar sounding mysterious words.
I won't say you couldn't make it up.  You can. Sounds, like, for example:
' Dodecohedroessoconocol' , or, 'Propellocarbonettaccellerate,'
'Hioctoisomorphil', 'BP-sodium-oil of orleanicorexitdesecrate'. To rename a few.  It's like, when the Earth (herself) is inflamed, throw on some paraffinol, or anything 'propyl' is appropriate to properly propel the profligate parasite into perpetual proliferation.  There should be a treaty about that.
Maybe i should have asked the pharmacy for some corefixit.
Apparently, Kevin Costner, as himself and not John Dunbar, in his entrepreneural business capacity donated thousands of dollars worth (i forget how many) of revolutionary equipment which would have cleaned up the gulf 'spill' and they, that is 'they', neglected to use it!  Talk about Dances with Wolves' !
Before i further digress and start reading ingredients in reverse trying to crack the encrypted code, (nearly did.)  Needless to say, my most recent experiments with a cheapo camera, photographing my rambling roses with a flash of inspiration in the wild, wet, and windy night, was a great idea. The vivid visualization of the outcome may well have been better spent in sketching and extrapolating imaginatively.  Often the case.  Besides, they printed all of them backwards.  One particular shot of staked roses, bears no colour reference to reality.  In that it consists solely of graded shades of red, yellow, and light lilac.  None of which exist in the subject photographed.
Strangely, it has potential as a painting, were i to be motivated sufficiently to  enact the disciplines involved in manifesting the rarely seen but imaginatively conceived.  But i never know what i might do.  It's like a kaleidoscope.  Changing daily.
However, i'm laid back about it.  Either with a cushion,  or horizontal, on my left side for the time being. Oh, must take some more silica...
Could conceivably be, in this current phase of Gaia-Sophia's halfway point of 'correction', we are imaginatively challenged to find effective ways to purge.  As the macro, so the micro, which are not two.  Obviously.
Or maybe it's the lunar surge.  As well as the scorpio/pluto connection.
And so this ramble disperses like a fractal needing no actual ending.
Being anything but a Cistercian i go attend to more mundane anomalies, and better watch my back.>>>>>>>>+<<<<<<<<  Rainbowmaker~

artwork : Rainbow Bridge, martin law, 2002

              Indian Sunrise, martin law, August 2003

Thuh patr ov sudn raen

On 21 June 2012 19:21, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

Now y kan riturn too funetix (thats uh gud wurd). Y wunduh, doo yoo fynd this eeziuh t reed?  Funetik kunsistunsi being thuh kee.
Y wz in toun urliyuh, enkwyring ubout thoes futpachiz y menshund. Pleezd t fynd that organiko haz them and bawt uh pakit for 25 yuroes, it beeing thee
uproepriut sulewshun ulong with thuh silika, boeth ov wich draw out or xpel.
Yew kan awlso put them on spusifik aireuz ov thuh soel rilaeting too wichevuh orgun yew wish t targit.
Awlso, hapi t sae, unuthuh 'mimplishd kushun'. Y pakijd and poestid thuh pres rileesiz, impekubli foloeing yor presys instrukshunz. Kleerd my taebul soe y kud spred them out and atend too eech won methodikli.  Playsing eech with its uproepriut nubuh ov SEEDEEZ enfoldid intoo its reluvunt
ukumpuneeing paej.  Y eevun bumpt intoo Jaemz ugen, hee wuz inturestid too heer hou y wuz disyding t deel with thuh sist.
Oe yes, by thuh wae, that infoe y sent rigarding free dounloeding on too yor cumpewtuh ov wotevuh vyb yoo wish it too raydeeaet iz veri inturesting, and y akchewali did soe agen for uh sekund tym.
Too fynd out mor about it ,az wel az lisun too un intuvew with its urijinaetuh,
just typ in ,y think its 'Ron Hall', heez on thuh, ..wotsit,... izit, 'Thuh heeling hevun and urth shoe'. If its wot it sez it iz, its priti revulewshunri. Cunverts yor cumpewtuh raediuns intoo wotevuh vyb yoo wish it too raediaet.
Awlsoe kuvuz uh larj raedius, and thay hav just rileest uh new won too bring pees and trankwiliti too yor houshold animulz. Hav uh lisun too thuh gy.
Hoeping yor enjoying this funetik xpeeriuns.  Haz uh lotuv posibilitiz.
Am veri inturestid in inventing new langwijiz and waes ov kumewnikaeshun.
Wen y wz in korisponduns with 'Mary Rodwell' in Ostraeliuh, and hoo iz inklewding my hyruglifix in thuh reeprint ov her buk, '......
Oe!  Just got yor popup. Soe wil send this nou...... Pronto
Luv~~~ Raenbomaekuh.



artwork : Avenue of Light, martin law, September 2005

Goddesh !!

On 22 June 2012 00:06, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

Meanwhile, try this for a ramble outside the box.  Sparked by earlier alchemical linguistics, FUNetix.
Okay............ 'FUNetix'.   (On summer solstice 2012 martin law wrote:)
Deknet isar,
shalaheh aso dni takwamo wijeh.  Nasparda gahin, sesaba uituk, eosa
naneej, oc ien telgapa zo kwaheejen.  Valgat navorn sepatu iyeh saktor, shaneesa, niem oshava enso malee dar eemah eskuevadok.


(There, i spelled everything wrong apparently.)

Or this.  Closer to home:        >>>>+<<<<Ashada Taheejin,
gahnaheeka wo'oh nisha owakapeeteh.  Olehsee, cha eewapteeka,
naskahgah cha' Jacheeweh.  Wah'chpee, chee asagagha, nee enlocheepeh, cheecheetah.
Goh'ktaw.  Kohkopiteh sha neechah.  Au, mo gohin, cheechteh wah
gaheekah.  Chipteh sha, ga nah wahpeeteh.
Ochipeh!  Ochipeh na ganaweewin!  Nee lo askipoo shanashah ga
weecheepeh.  Shash'da anootka.
Zah!  jeechkah daboh.  Wahkeepeeleh.  Noh hee'kchah. G'dosh. Chee en lo jicahlah, sessakweh mo veejah.
Nashchee chakawashee.  Nah gweehah sha go en lo.~~~~
Weeh'mukeh Wakhaghee*
*********************************
Ah sure, that'll do for now.  Have fun reading aloud.
Might be good for the dizzies.
Thanks for pix*
PAX.
M.

artwork : Flowers Within, martin law, October 2005

Ad Liberandom

On 23 June 2012 02:13, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

>Ad liberandom,
which i take by verbal structure to imply something like verbal improvisation.  Though i never studied a word of Latin, or Greek for that matter.  Failed to get into Grammar school, which was probably a good thing.  But i can sense the word derivations into English.
This, simply a one way hello (tho i can't imagine where that word derives from.)  Probably the 'hallow'. 'be thou hallowed' family.
I'm 'just after' listening to an hour and a half of Drake update: On blogtalk radio. 'Drake's midweek update.  June 21',  Accessed via (latin again), American National Militia.com.
(And if that changes colour in a moment it don't mean they're onto me
cos even my own web address does that sometimes.)
Impulse for ad liberanding is the import i discern from my listen. Feeling to share simply as it serves as a pretty good anti-paranoia remedy, transforming into metanoia, (Greek)
Kinda figures (american), since Jupiter moved from Taurus into Gemini, that it's now that my Jupiter in Gemini, natally ,(on my mid -heaven), will be amplifying Gemini things like language.  And Jupiter is a BIG amplifier.
So, 'sortive', sort of, to save you switching modes from continuity in Gaian eso/eco-organics, to sociopolitical legalese, (wonder what my male version of a Pentelope persona would be called), (?), the messenger of good news dept. Mogn?  Selfless benevolent communication: SBCradio. Peace Smoke Signals: PSS.
After all the wondering, is the B. Fulford scenario...what's the word...
'Veracious' (not voracious), veracity, veritas, verytandum...
'Erare humanum est, perseverare diabolicum'. Shoot! I remembered that from a movie as a child!
'Basically'.  I believe we have grounds for comfortable transition to metanoia.  So i share that with us.
I can say so online because 'it's in the public domain, BIG time. (Which i gather is an 'indian' expression, like 'party', pow-wow. A big time.
With your grasp of legalese i would expect you would discern in 'Drake's' delivery a self evident thorough legalistic credibility and integrity.  Ha!  And what an accent!  Virginia, or Kentucky, such colloquialisms.  "This affects everybody and your mother in law",
"N'anybody  got the notion of it's ok fr'liddle bidda hanky panky bedda watch their back cos thadaint no way ta be grateful frawl them apple pies yr mother made yew". Sortive.  But that's how they talk.
Apparently there are likely to be mass arrests starting in the next two days, and no later than two weeks.  Of the criminal politico-corporate world ,that is. They've already apprehended Eric Holder. And there's a long global list.
I used to be totally politically how do you spell it naive (no wiggly line?)  Which is why we can dispense with ALL that we've been told we are because we somehow become what we weren't. Or were but didn't know it yet.  How's that.
So that's enough of that.  Necessitas non laborum liber ad infinitum.
And the back is still inflamed and contained and tender.  Just going to keep replacing detox pads on it till something changes.  Only used the cream twice. Don't think it does anything. Inflamation is essential part of expulsion process. And taking the silica. Being a long embedded thing there's no outlet point so feels like it wants to split.
Sore enough.
Have hardly ever been ill but for the odd fever. Got over yellow jaundice or hepatitis once. Walked about ten miles in the snow( that might be an exaggeration) yellow head to foot to a damp refuge in a mountain cottage. Didn't see a doc or take anything , or eat for a week. (It was xmas). Was fit and chopping logs within a week.
And the word is out that humans from other planets are among us and helping with this liberation. I know that sounds a bit ****** but it's not just coming from that new-agey perspective. You'd have to hear the nuance to know what i'm not expressing adequately. (Oh shit. These backtrack delete/replace digital glitches!!)
Dan did the most amazing job on the blog. We had an ongoing simultaneous rap going in the little box.
Had a good talk with Kate today. A good talk with Peter who sells
/imports Indian goods. Travelled widely in wild places and cultures. I bought a nice pure silk headscarf. There was a huge chemtrail.  I listened to Lash's own take on it.  All the potted plants are happy.
Hope you found my indian language , (what?) , of curious interest. I can modulate it according to focus.  I was about to say, when you popped in, Mary Rodwell collects such things in her research. She's incorporating my hieroglyphics in her reprint of her book 'Awakening'.
(That's where i'd got to in previous email.)
But i originally only meant to say.  Fear not. Be totally optimistic.
You're already mystic, so just be an opti mum, and opti dad.
If there's a maximum there must be a maxidad.  Or just be outrageously optimystic wildmaxianimals.
Erare humanum est. Semper PAX terra planetarium.~
Aqua- circum-laborum* 



artwork : Infinity's Rose, martin law, December 2005

TAO/ZEN

On 13 June 2012 02:46, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

Zen (tho who am i to...) is something like that. Tho saying so it's not.
Like the novice walking with the Head Monk (Sensei/ Roshi) in the woods, said "isn't it such a pleasant evening". Roshi-  "Yes but it's a pity to have to say so".
We're so verby in the west. What they called "like putting legs on a snake", i.e. superfluous.  When we know, so much goes on is body language tele-pathy (distant empathy) intuition.
Zen was, or is, originally, in contradistinction to official doctrine: "A direct transmission outside the scriptures not depending on words and letters."  memory unquote. More like renegade trickster get the job done and no bullshit. Tradition is full of eccentic artist monks living alone in mountain huts getting together for painting parties and wine wowing the full moon and sparring like hilarious children over  hair splitting nuances of insight in wild ping-pong flashes knocking the other off his perch or stance to 'come off it' and have a good belly laugh and "have a cup of tea" classic blend, no discursive logic allowed. Thats in Kerouacan beat language.
Then there were the two legendary mad zen monks Shitoku and Jitoku' depicted in numerous scrolls with accompanying haiku poem,
typically laughing like joyful children and tossing the autumn maple leaves into the air enjoying them as they sail and flutter down like snow each one just so in their perfect place. Kinda serious fun huh?
Till the japanese, you know how they formalize and regiment, there's even a book of perect answers to koan questions. Which is a cosmic joke cos it's all about being spontaneous, authentic, original, innovative and no logic but profound intuitive knowing of one's  true empty nature at all times there are no 'all times' , just this, and when you say that, it's instantly not so. So it's all about real 'nots' cos what it is, is never the word.
Oh shit i've done it again.Written a thing.
Might be of use? According to Hui-Neng (?) higher zen is about use.
No point being uselessly wise if it's not applicable.
Memory quote: "When the right wo(man) uses the wrong means, the wrong means work in the right way."
Wisdom is just common sense. It's just not very common.
i said that. (which is precisely THE delusion.)

Miss Elaine Eous.

On 11 June 2012 23:15, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

>Re sponding,
(word, "ephemerality" in my previous message not the exact word. But the "ph" was right so i planted it. Was thinking of epiphany, with an "ality" on it.)
So. Oranges. Yes, have eaten whole orange, peelpithanall. Only thing is if they're sprayed.
As you went to the van i did notice the Countesthorpe Herald text. Assumed it was perhaps a duplicate. But will post to them, maybe tomorrow.Presume
simply address and post?
Methodical itemizing... I do have a right-hand inverted comma ( ' ). Had assumed i was missing a left one, but now i see it is not curved like a comma, so is both a left and a right. That's quite funny... Hangover from handwriting.
Reason a friend asked me to call round was to get my take on second occurrence of waking from a dream, to a " presence" and play of coloured lights outside on bedroom curtain.  She, thinking now it's angelic rather than ET.  Said she thought of opening curtains to see but was too scared.
Ha !  Seems obvious thing to do, look out the window. Maybe they wanted to ask where i lived. So i with-held (funny word) what i'd meant to say, as it
was past it's sell-by date, not of the moment.
Don't recall the JLL with the "Chan" in it.  Something i'm familiar with though.  Bodhi-Dharma, founder of zen came from India 5th century to pass on Gautama Buddha's insight teaching. The Chinese, being pragmatic mystics morphed it into 'Ch'an', meaning, 'meditation'.  As so does the sanskrit word, 'Dhyana', which later became the japanese word, 'Zen'.  As in ,'Za-Zen', sitting meditation.
You know, to a large extent, my being waterproof to kristiun and kathalik doctrine, is that, since dropping out of sunday school, which was boring as hell, soon as i left Leicester i was straight into zen and meditation via the 'beat' poets and Kerouac at age 19.  So followed it up reading Alan Watts, starting with his first book, 'The Way of Zen'. Written as a studious prodigy at age 21. i think. Then all his many other books. Reading repeatedly right up to 1982 or so.  Along with explorations into any  zen-related, Tao,
Advaita (non-duality), Lao-tze,  Chuang-Tze, and dozens of others, zen haiku poetry, and deeply into zen and Tao landscape painting and spiritual principles. So that's most of my background.
Subsequently read the larger background to  christian doctrine, people like Gardner, and Watts too wrote many books from that angle, because he got caught up again later, even becoming a minister till he had a rude awakening. He explored what they call 'comparative religion' first hand, and did a huge amount to make zen and tao accessible to the west.
Blending with that, quite easily, the native american way is virtually synonymous with the tao way, with the addition of being embedded, and rooted in a long tribal tradition of earth and sky, and one with the spirits of the creatures and elements.  All excellent proof against patriarchal doctrine.
Would be good to share vocal discussion of all this. No doctrine to untangle. Simply the spirit nuances of the wild and natural. (Though indians didn't consider the 'wilderness'to be 'wild'.  The white men, 'wasicu', were wild because unrooted and unbonded as well as evidently hypocritical and blind to the natural sacred.  So all this synthesizes easily and comfortably for me. The indians were permaculturists and pagans. Some white settlers regarded them as 'a nation of saints'
I have a bit of an intuition all this could be of help untying knots that somebody else tied. From my perspective it is a bit puzzling why such knots might persist as a problem to be untied. Though it's obviously important research so you can say ,'there, that's how it's done'. 'Easy'.
Was thinking,(as they say) about this, earlier. Like, what is it exactly (trauma apart) that makes the web sticky?  And felt the urge to ask, .... could you boil it right down to one, or two sentences? Like when you're, say,
up against the wall.  Totally, radically definitive, explicative, denunciatory.
I know you've probably done more hard work than me in that regard.
Perhaps it's a bit like, it's only a paradox to be resolved as long as it's felt to be something that needs resolution.  Like trying to remember a name. Till you say , oh fuck it  i really don't care. And then it resolves itself. That's a typically zen thing.  You get it when you no longer need it. And find it was always there(here) anyway.
Did six hours on the back garden the other day. With just a trowel , like it was a paintbrush. Totally weeded. Edges sharpened. Round lawn clipped.
Just like painting. Looks sublime. My notion is to create a sanctuary, an enclosed, bushy oasis in the midst of the rectangle jungle. Envision a holy concentric round fertile place for blackbirds to herald the dewy dawn.
Started on the front lawn, plucking out, with plunge and leverage of trowel, dandelions, plantains, buttercups, though they'r all useful herbs and it feels a bit eugenic. Bet the guys could make the perfect tool for that. But trowel's fine. Maybe concave chisell would be good.
Talked with a good friend a bit outside Bakehouse today. Her lad pulling on her and timing us, "you've got 3 more minutes!" Said to get in touch. Another friend walked past earlier, second time without stopping.
Continually curious (for years) about this talk of a 'shift in dimensions'. Was listening to talks by Mark Kimmel. All these people leave something to be desired sort of feeling. Suppose it's simply that, ... the word is not the experience itself. "The map is not the territory".  (Quote: Bullminster Fucker.
))))) That's what i'm getting at with the 'eden' thing. Befoer i went in to town, i just typed in, the world beyond civilization. And there was pages of people thinking the same thing.  It's symptomatic of a groundswell.
I'd be quite happy to upgear into a finer resonant frequency, maybe that's what we're designed for, here for. If we so choose to commit, orient, and align and practice towards that.....    lots of other tangenitals.....
Taking a break..... hope all good, house-healing, make it shine triumphant.
That's a bit like the word, elephant. Maybe 3 elephants.
Love, clarity, and people power.......... rainbowwhatsit*
*************************************
*************************************

'The Lash of Rain'.

On 14 June 2012 17:14, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

> hmm... The Lash of Rain..." (13)
Random ruminations in a room during downpour.  The heart and the hearth. Flickering flame reflections on the pane curiously creates a burning bush in the wet garden. A quite convincing optical effect.
Photographed it once but the flash on glass obliterates.
Listened to Lash navs 11.  So enjoyed my "rancour" is the right word, piece, that i sent it to him (+ to 6 or 7 others) with a succinct invite to my blog and site. respectfully simple with respect to not syncopate his nocturnal timelessness of epm.  That done and overdue.
My cheap dictionary says, 'rancour'= "bitter hate".
I conceive it more like a mother with cubs in this inst.  Righteous protective without the relig.+/  Rancour.  The sound has a raptor's  curved hook of a beak. A raptor's rampage of righteous rage.  A black blood-tipped carrion crow of a word.
Paleo diet.  But for the lash of rain i'd take a trip out for more meat.  I do that periodically, to 'subsidize my vegetarianism', so said i to the butcher who knows me of many conversations and he laughed. The importance of 'fat', i said. Far from him to disagree.
The indian word for white man: 'wasicu' (wah-shee-choo) also meant
'takes the fat'.  You can hear the word in Dances with wolves when Costner enters the camp. " Wasicu!  Wasicu!" Gathering up her kids from the creek. Watched that in slowmo ten times. Hunting for images.  What will i paint?         ...?
Enjoyed your message.  Thinking to send C- Herald coupla CD's.
The butternuts are pro-life-erating leafily strong looking. Everthing a right degree of moist.  Yellow pepper's bigger. East to south exposed.
Do i need write extra or will blog potential suffice?  I do like my 'An ancient path' painting.  Total imaginary. Bracken as good as Vincent.
A REALLY ancient path.  Took photos of my garden, in evening gold last blast through sombre shrouds.  Shots of rose blooms for ref.
Thought of doing same at night. With a flash in the black void. May do that.  Lashing has lessened.
5.00/   Have you checked 'future primitive'?  I came up with same title long before hearing of Lash, about ...1997?
My 'Rant', one facet extrapolation of an overall guiding imagination orientation.  The Earth is ALWAYS ancient despite 'ephemeral' (correct use of word) infrastructure ticky-tacky trash.  Need more grasp of validity of this shift to redeemed Earth /eden concept.  Now Lash is hinting at that with downpouring of Pleromic Love.  We need to go from paranoia to metanoia.... Like 'Albion Awake'.  Looks like they're going to 'mimic' that at the O-limp-ix !
I take a break. Must say, i much enjoy this process. Thanks ever.
Augmentations~~~~~~~ Wal Nitram. (apologies to Leonindo Da Varci)

Worlds without end

On 7 June 2012 23:19, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

>Thoughts thinking themselves,
in the present, (where else?), re-playing the bit of our, more than thirteen hour long discussion, where you mentioned in passing, the notion that perhaps i had delivered into the world enough of a body of artworks, that i could, (what?), somehow take a rest from the perpetual output.
I may well have paraphrased that incorrectly, and it might not be exactly what you meant. But it's interesting, and the mind typically played with it.
So, what does the mind playfully think?
It seems to feel there is no end, and wonders even if there was a beginning.
If anything has been relinquished, it might only be the notion, once held, perhaps, that the world at large will take any notice, or even see what i'm doing. You know the stereotype of what's called "an artist". The cliche notion of "gaining recognition", becoming "established". All sounds funny to me at this stage. Even "posthumous" recognition. Doesn't it all sound like vanity and self-image obsession? Not much different from every bird wanting to be famous for singing. A bird sings because singing is an intrinsic aspect of the mysterious phenomenon we call bird.
The same with what we call human. Or tree, or flower, for that matter.
When i found myself to be singing and painting at a young age, i had no thought of doing so for some other reason. Later on, that's where society,(so called), invites you , pressures you, into all these other reasons for doing what you do naturally. It could be,livelihood,(as if you weren't lively already).
It could be fame, recognition, wanting to be noticed as being different. (As if you weren't different. As if everybody, and everything wasn't different already.)  It could be the urge to communicate something one feels to be of value to others, and in the service to the well-being of all life.)
There's a sort of maturation process perhaps, in the progression through the various justifications for doing what you do naturally anyway. I don't know if birds go through such a thing. They may start out singing for hunger and and continue for the joy of it. But outside of such academic anthropomorphisms, that's mere assumption of the mystery we call "bird".
It was Pablo Picasso who said, "I paint as the bird sings". But he did have a pretty astute manager.
Another thing i may well have let go of, through experience, is the notion of "the art world". Some sort of club. Having as much to do with business and commerce as art. Take "art movements". Whether or not they start with a mutual communication between "artists". They tend to become historically crystallized by critics ,dealers, and historians, who like to put everything in a box and put a label on it, not to mention a hierarchical price tag.
While i have painted for sixty-six years,(since age 4 at least), i've no reason to not do it.  It's life energy, and continual transformation through curiosity and otherwise invisible ever evolving enthusiasm.
When you've done that many hundred experiments, you don't want to do the same thing too many times more than once. It is about the created object for itself. But equally, if not more so, about the process itself, and more specifically about the challenge of perception. To perceive, to see, and feel the world in ever deeper ways, and to explore other possible (or seemingly impossible) angles, from a spirit of imagination viewpoint.
It's a way of, not only staying outside the box, one's own past boxes as well as other peoples assumed boxes, as well as becoming exponentially "box-proof" to the so called "culture" that has a way of imposing more and more "life-proof-boxes" on unsuspecting people.
So, it's not only what first-nations-people call, "the beauty way". Picasso also called it, "a weapon of defence against the enemy". And lest you bring up the "new age critique cliche" against "us and them". The "them" in question continually demonstrate and openly declare, they don't regard themselves as us, and have every intention of getting rid of us "the people".
You do have to know your enemy when they declare themselves to be such.
Look around at what they do. Self declared enemies of all life. And we still vote for them!

So, i do expect to take ever-evolving creative curiosity into whatever dimension of worlds my natural resonance orients me to. And if others don't see it, then they will have to learn to feel it. It's all about resonance too. Takes two to resonate. Resonance, and radiance. Two good key words to orientate by.
So no, i'm for pushing the envelope. Or, more exactly, in resonance with the Tao, not pushing at all.  Letting the envelope dissolve by not acknowledging it's relevance, as an imagined limitation. It's not the form of the envelope. But the content. And that is invisible to whoever doesn't already acknowledge the equivalent within them self. You have to be it to see it.
That's resonance. Harmony. Communication.
I never know what i may create next. Any more than how i may complete this paragraph.  Chances are, it won't be like what came before. I'm capable of being bored without getting unduly restless.  But i've no intent to bore myself by impersonating a machine.
That's important.  Don't let mechanical-digital- box-consciousness dictate your life. You're organic ! You're spirit. If your gadget starts telling you what to do and think, go and make mud pies.  Walk barefoot through wet grass.
You're Human. Not a robot.  That's what creativity is about.  True "materialism", is loving the undeniable truth of material. Everything is alive.
Plants see and hear and feel and respond. Robots don't.
Creativity is inherent in all that lives.  There is no such thing as separation.
All is "inter-dependent". So don't ever rest your head on "a writer's block", or "an artist's block".  Or you'll lose it.  If you want to go with the flow, (the Tao), you already just did. But tried to take the block with you, thinking it was yours. "The way which can be spoken (about) is not the true way."
The way is that from which you can never deviate.  The delusion that you have deviated, is also an aspect of the way from which you can never deviate.  It's "not being so, is it's being just so. SO.  Flow on.  Just SO. ~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

artwork :  Medicine Dream,‏ martin law, July 2010

               Apache Mystery 1, martin law, November 2008

               Apache Mystery 2, martin law, November 2008
               A Rainbow Union, martin law, May 2009
               Butterfly Girl, martin law, August 2009