Archive for the Self-awareness Category

Sea Of Mind

Posted in Art, Self-awareness, Spirituality on June 25, 2011 by Naomi Brosnan
Sea Of Mind - 50cm x 112cm - Oil and Pigment on Linen 2011

'Sea Of Mind' 50cm x 112cm - €1,500 - Unframed Available from Artist

In this sea of mind matter, parts detaching themselves from the embryonic form that is undergoing the change of shedding parts. Movement from the ocean caries the newly freed parts to where they are needed, gives the sense of motion in constant presence…The waters are just a little darker now but the essence of presence remains bright on the dark sea. So it shows me that pain is both unavoidable and intensely beautiful in a visual sense.

Half Dome Above Clouds, Yosemite

Posted in Self-awareness, Spirituality on June 10, 2011 by Naomi Brosnan

The long days are here again, there is a bite to the air and my senses are cleansed by the crisp morning. The mist that hangs low over the fields caught by the rising sun is truly a magnificent sight. One cannot help but think of our myths and legends of the Sidhe in the mist, on the ground and in the sky. Ireland is so familiar to me, the smell of the ocean and the feel of the land under foot. I have known people who carry a handful of earth with them as they travel, but we are a whole planet and the natural spirits that are so familiar to us travel on the wind. Their familiar places unrecognized seem so exotic, though they are surely prehistoric.

There is a sameness that has prevailed in nature on my travels, those who walk and scurry upon her may differ but the rhythm remains in tune, familiar like a heart beat. Though my travels have been limited I have been amazed at how at home I have felt and how familiar these new places are…Maybe it is some kind of genetic memory that dwells in the soul…And oh my how is sings when in the presence of mist and mountain.

When I saw this photograph my conscious mind illuminated flashes of travel…The obsidian I bought from the old trading station just outside Yosemite National park. It is incredible how the climate changes as you drive up and in, this place that smells of red wood trees and sleeping bears.  This ‘ half dome above clouds, Yosemite ‘ had me nestling in the cracks just above the clouds. It holds magnificent detail, I can almost see my own tiny form amongst the trees. The original photo holds a superb amount of detail, it is hand printed on silver gelatin, 2010. To view a better image go to the source…www.rafal.net

Bealtaine

Posted in Self-awareness, Spirituality on May 2, 2011 by Naomi Brosnan

Bealtaine is upon us, her passion on the wind and in the sunshine that illuminates all these thorns in my hands. Digging away at the memories of this life, a cycle returning to spill the essence of desire on the stones again. Each thing quivering with a desire to be more of itself. Truth buried like the thorns in my hands, present yet covered. I can feel a journey beginning to whisper with more urgency, somehow closer to a truth that I must uncover.

The hope of resolution and growth is more than I have dared to think about in a while. A way to break back into the flow, through my own barricades. With so much positive force present in the cycle it is simply a matter of doing. To enter the great hall once again for the tango of the soul…pure instinct is the only way with which to dance this dance.

Writing

Posted in Creativity, Self-awareness on March 12, 2011 by Naomi Brosnan

I approach again with a need to write …The waves of intellect have crashed on numerous occasions against my will, like the waves that roar with the sheer power of the ocean, white water power. The foam I consider to be the evidence of passion is all but expunged by frivolous over thinking and an ultimate descent into pointlessness. I had deceived myself into thinking that I had nothing constructive to say. There I sat for weeks, head spinning ravenous thoughts around in a spiral, like a pac man munching up all the delicate passion.

My head still spins with forming thoughts holding tension that I must release. The mounting unexpressed minions dragging me to a place where nothing is soft enough or clear enough. The pointlessness dresses my soul in the foulest of rags, and does not even take joy in it’s victory! The odor has grown to a stifling intensity, it acts like a drug that changes my perception… finally I move to open the window. New air has such fragrance that it makes my mouth water, a desire for something other begins to manifest. I find myself naked and clean with a fresh stack of enthused potential.

Maybe now that I have my own permission thoughts may be allowed to crystalize at a natural pace instead of speeding in confinement. The act of writing begins the release of debris, the rattling of chains and the chink of light. The motion of doing has the tendency to quiet the mind, fishing out those core truths. Instead of shooting fish in a barrel one gazes upon the vast open nature that is their habitat. Writing creates room for ideas and their details, slightly apart from the chaos but still connected. The deep multidimensional well of reality is in constant motion, full of the diversity of many mundane acts. The rich and beautiful notion of prayer and altruism. Routine that is gently laid upon the rest of the random mind.

Bridget’s Night

Posted in Self-awareness, Spirituality on January 31, 2011 by Naomi Brosnan

A windy night with the fences banging their weight against the concrete…I like the sound, a natural composition making itself heard here in suburbia. The elemental force behind it trembles  my soul, reacting in delight at Her presence…The Smith, The Poet, The warrior. In older memory still she is known as The Shining One with the blood of the Faye running through Her. She is, in our beautiful celtic way scattered throughout the land and the spirit , a part of who we are without thinking.

Her night, a marker in the dark haze of an uncovering winter, a seed of light for the spirit to see, an idea for the mind to hold. And for the imagination of the future that will be. Bridget holds us this night ( those who would be held ) and kisses our prayers with the dew. She creates a space where it is easier to trust the light that you feel, this is ancient knowledge settled into the night. A womb to grow those fragile hopes in a tangible way, where the bright gentle ideas have tenure. Innocence makes a gallant return to the stage where her bed is waiting. She is full of that pure desire to live and dream.

Remembering the nights that have gone before, some in silence and some in splendor, these accrue to an inherent  sense of responsibility  gathering in my blood, gathering in my years. I am touching upon a place of peace. Releasing old barriers from their posts, creating space along the way.

Darkness

Posted in Self-awareness on January 23, 2011 by Naomi Brosnan

As a sort of numbness creeps with this tangible darkness that is passing, it felt as though all was lost as it should be with this shedding of skins. I had forgotten how much struggle is involved with this dance, for when the struggle resides deep in the very foundation there is no escape nor reprieve…death is inevitable. It is not the final one, we die many many deaths. In cycles our skins are shed and by times the examination of the rotting remains becomes a consuming appetite. Those are decent times when my mind can meander and have fun with the notion that I created this debris with living. The dying cells with birth beneath them.

To die is to live without any expectation, to accept this change and enter into a void of life with no memory of it’s beauty. As I breathe in this place of bitter belonging, slowly letting go of all the emotions that crest and crash upon my heart. A withdrawal from all the lies that were somehow enveloped as truth, the crutches and shadows. The darkness as velvet and beautiful as it can be is also a place where there is nowhere to hide. This darkness of mind supported by the season, dredging the emotional archives again for all that has been released this time round. What moldy rags from the past shall I uncover… I am surprised at what falls out of the pockets, a shining thing form 1995. It has no baggage, only a pure radiating energy of complete belief in painting, in creativity as a force.

It transports me to place of such ease and belonging in my skin. The memory of free flowing connection with the world in trust that was so complete it guided my soul. That kind of trust is beautiful and powerful to the point of being intoxicating. Trusting the truth of beauty that my heart sees, making a place for innocence. A place to really listen to the silence, knowing ancient songs are playing. Peace found in the precious silence of a beating heart, a primal nature waiting there. It covers the place with hope and resurrection. Emerging from the stillness each new thing has its wonder.

Whispering new year

Posted in Self-awareness, Spirituality on January 6, 2011 by Naomi Brosnan

As I approach this idea in my head like an animal who has dreamed a dream. Waking in a foreign place full of intangible conflicting notions that belong to some other race. Devoid of trust and belonging one is easily pulled into the quagmire of lies and deceit, the concept of truth drowned out by false need. Manufactured desire and fear that is packaged, promoted and mass produced. Real need buried beneath  the multitude of lies and twisted truth. There is always some seed of truth in the foundation, rather like the many churches built on top of old old sacred sites. Sites that are connected to the very core of our planet, places where the human spirit can look upon itself and really see. This mirror remains untarnished by any  force that may wish to conceal it. The power remains in the stillness that must be achieved in order to see with any real depth. Like bird watching for the soul, you must be in one place long enough to really have your boots sunk in.

The stillness within is key, as we move at incredible speeds through the solar system. All is in motion, constant changing and exchanging of energy. This stillness is not governed by physical science, it lies on another very different plane altogether, closer to the secrets of chaos and creation. In the realm of the heart is where the spirit shines at it’s very brightest. And here in the darkest part of the year that light shines long and bright. The tipping point of the year, a vision of the luminous souls in flight. Lanterns lit and released into the air, small groups of people huddled outside to bring in the roman new year. The cold and beautiful night alive with floating prayers of hope and spirit strong. They all journey towards the south-east to gather together. The bright flames becoming embers in the sky, shining like the stars, they make new constellations in the sky. Never more than seven converge on this night, their constellations made by human hands appear bright and true amongst the older residents. A torrent of hope and wonder washed through me, the sense of belonging in me deeply felt. I gleefully belong here x

Forming Trust

Forming Trust