Super Moon Straw Quiet
“Everything that I have written seems like straw compared to those things that I have seen and have been revealed to me.”
—Thomas Aquinas, a single, solitary, boring, non-toilet-flushing Homo sapien of the 105 billion who have lived on earth since 50,000 B.C.E.
I haven’t been writing in a while for several reasons, the most prominent being that I have been busy working gratis at a local art center. Still, with all the administrative busyness, I was able to keep up with my messaging winter and spring, as well as paint regularly, cook meals, wash dishes and bag cat crap. Could it be today’s super moon that has pulled a revelation from my body tide? Why have I taken such a long break from writing thoughts? I usually get all bloated and manic with any full moon. I can predict them. For instance, this morning I told Rose the moon is full because I caught myself talking like my eyes were popping out of my head. She noticed too. I gab frantic over the slightest unimportant thing. I’ve got to talk about any “it” as if not mentioning it would mean my self getting waved over again like silent kelp, and not heard and obeyed like Mr. Honorable Human Being King. “It” could be trivial any subject like “the rain is wet, and is this thing I’m rubbing a pimple or a mole?”.
Today was different because I went all Thomas Aquinas, or Zen, or wanna be corpse pose and felt that if I didn’t shut up any second, my body would explode. It was total organism feeling—fingers, brain, stomach, elbows, chest. I was flushed, manic and tight like any full moon time, but didn’t care to tell the human world, in writing or talk. I had to let thoughts pass by without commentary. Today I want to shut up, the moon to set, and the sun to rise. This feeling aligns closely with other new sensations I’ve been experiencing lately in my bodymind. I can’t explain further except that they’re overwhelmingly positive. They keep coming forth and receding back. I am sensing more sensitively—breathing through the nose while the world is getting so much mouth louder.
A present flow of silent observance and ebb of opinion. I think it will be difficult to leave once I get there every second.
Here are some quiet paintings: