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Posts Tagged ‘#684 + WATERFALL “MIDNIGHT BLUE” + WATERFALL “LAPIS” BLUE + ANNIE LENNOX – 1.) WHY? 2.) No More ‘I Love You’s’ ; CATHERINE L. JOHNSON;’

WOMEN ACTION

ACTION WOMEN

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COMPETENT

CREATIVE

COURAGEOUS

CANDID

CLEAR

CONSCIENCE

CULTURED

COMMITTED

COOL

CHERISHED

COMMUNICATOR

CATALYST

COMPASSIONATE

CLASSY

COURAGEOUS

CONSIDERATE

COMICAL

CONSTANT

CORDIAL

COMPELLING

CONSOLER

CONFIDENT

CALM

CHARISMATIC 

CONTRIBUTOR

CONSCIOUS

CARING

COLLABORATOR

COURAGEOUS

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https://i0.wp.com/www.sopitas.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/03/atomic-blonde.gif

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https://media.giphy.com/media/fVEEwlhSYGXYs/giphy.gif

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SALLY YATES  – AMERICAN ACTION HEROINE

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https://catherineljohnson.files.wordpress.com/2017/05/c53d1-queennefertitionhieroglyphs.jpg?w=500

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RESIST / STEP UP / BE COURAGEOUS

 WILLINGNESS TO BE THE RISING

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WOMEN ACTION

ACTION WOMEN

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PLEASE CLICK ON IMAGE TO ENLARGE

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FOR FURTHER INFORMATION:
http://www.mnartists.org/artwork/breath-1997-three-views-dynamicshifting-ambient-light

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breath_1997_catherineljohnson_riseenergyvibration

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ONE PAINTING
BREATH   1997   Catherine L. Johnson 

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Everything created is energy.
Energy vibrates at different levels.

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Just as a singer has a vocal range that moves
from lowest to highest,
each individual human has their own vibrational range.

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Every human moves up and down a vibrational scale.
The more one works on loving oneself,
the higher their vibration rises.

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Everyone is born with a different vibrational scale.
Everyone possesses the ability to reach the highest level
through
APPRECIATION;
forgiveness;
JOY;
meditation
and
LOVE.

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If one wishes to connect to higher vibrational beings,
one simply raises their own personal vibration.

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The universal Law of Attraction states
that like energy attracts like energy.

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The more one stays in a higher, lighter, clearer vibration,
the more one will connect with the spiritual realm.

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Deceased loved ones who have transitioned;
died;
dropped their bodies and released
the dense energy of their physical bodies
move up the vibrational scale.

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Deceased loved ones can become Spirit Guides
upon leaving their physical bodies.
Spirit Guides choose to become teachers
and
guide those of us still in the physical realm.
They offer guidance, comfort, and, at times, warnings and protection.
Spirit Guides are the spiritual essence of deceased loved ones.

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Each physical being, I believe, is supported by a Guardian Angel
throughout his/her
entire physical life,
from birth to death.
A Guardian Angel’s job
is to unconditionally love
and
protect us.

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 Everyone reaches a point in their lives,
 a crossroad,
where one recognizes
and
is confronted
with the immutable fact
that the responsibility
for one’s lives
is
their
own.

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Of course, denial  and fear
is a counter force of this epiphanic
emotional/spiritual breakthrough.

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One who chooses denial and fear
imprisons/freezes their own vibrational range.
Truth-telling and courage yields internal  breakthroughs,
a R/EVOLUTION occurs
and
one casts off  false security,
what was habit
and,
in time,
one lives in dynamic integrity
and,
now,
 their sonic energy vibrates like a Stradivarius
violin,
viola,
cello.

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The  Stradivarius  stringed instruments
– vehicles of the heartspiritsoul of humanity-
were created
after intensive/dedicated experimentation
of physical materials
and
inspired by Antonio Stradivarius’  own musical
 “listening” skills of his own sonic expressive genius.

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The instruments provided gifted musicians,
in relationship with their instrument,
the capacity to create the sonics
of unparalleled sublime beauty.

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 The intimate relationship of the  musician/genius
to their  genius/stringed instrument 
can enact
the inchoate to the ripened emotions
of living a life.
The sonics  brought forth
mirror the delicate, robust, layered
constellation /range
 of the heartspiritsoul’s wordless
 universal language of LIVING a life.
The sonics produced, of course,
are  in proportion
to the  individual musician’s capacity
to live/ know passion
and
to welcome  the VERY life of life.
It is all relational- in relationship.
The relationship of  the individual’s capacity to an instrument/vehicle
is a profound equation.

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Does the instrument make the musician sing
or
does the musician make the instrument sing?
Or, is it an ongoing  dialectic/dynamic of 
letting go
and
seeking beauty
 with the capacity to  welcome/invite, 
enter and create profound
breakthroughs and r/evolutions
as one’s divining rod?

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Love is courage/ Courage is love. 
Shakespeare’s Hamlet: “To be or not to be” is the ultimate question.

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It is the choicesrecognition and the courage/couer
of the individual
to construct the reality
so as to play/dance
with a willing, capable vehicle
which, in relationship,
can express the  most profound,
precious and infinite vibrational scales
of  joy to/and sorrow.

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This truth,  this awareness and internal epiphany,
with the selection process a musician chooses
as their instrument/ their vehicle,
transfers equally into individuals’  choices 
of who to love and be loved by.

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Each relationship is a call and response,
a spiritual, a gospel,
a freedom fighter song of rising and constantly becoming
– or not.

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The Master arrives at one’s crossroads.
The choice to embrace or turn away is the trajectory of one’s life.
The story of your life becomes your life.
The more significant a relationship is to self
and
to another is based
on truth-telling
slowly, suddenly,
and 
always in that direction of telling the truth creates
authentic intimacy
a sonic vibration that is visceral and palpable.
The dedication to truth-telling creates
a boundless field of freedom
and
is the very testament of love
as a verb.

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One can “FEEL” the vibration
of another’s
freedom, integrity and authenticity.
It is a sonic fusion of an improvisational
lullaby/hymn/gospel Hallelujah song.
Fluid.
Moves and breathes like a cascading waterfall and a pure river:
JOY.

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“Folks are usually about as happy as they make their minds up to be.”
Abraham Lincoln

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No one has no control over anything or anyone but oneself.
With that emotional/spiritual  breakthrough and r/evolution,
an awareness becomes luminous:
 God is in everyone and everything.
God is love.

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God is simply the energy of love,
and
authentic love
is
 boundless;
infinitely beautiful;
radiant
and
free.

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I was 5 years old.
I was home from the hospital, briefly,
with both legs entombed in plaster casts.

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I had lived in the hospital
from the time I was six months old,
an infant,
until I was 3 years,
a toddler.

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From 3 years old until I was 10 years old,
I would go back into the hospital
and, briefly,
 back to my family’s home.
Repeat.
Repeat,
Repeat.
Repeat until I was 10 years old.

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“All of my life I have known an inviolable
place of inner freedom containing:
Earth; pieces of washed clear blue skies;
brilliant unfolding blooms; wings of flight; 
the color and arcs of rainbows;
the hallelujah chorus of wind, rain and rivers;
and
the white glistened silence of ice.”

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Catherine L. Johnson / ARTIST

 

 

 

 

Patients were horizontal breathing beds
and
communicated without words.

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Physical suffering swallows the effort of making words emerge.
The crucible of pain honed “listening”
as a vehicle of communication
– not hearing, the physical function,
but,
listening”
as a vehicle/divining rod of truth
of another’s water.

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Each patient was a whorl of energy as is the breath of life.
We communicated to each other with our body’s energy.
The attending nurse would “hear” silence.
We would be in a choir of  gentle, rhythmic vibration of:
lullabies, hymns and gospel songs
to comfort,  
sustain  
and
give light to one another.
It was a  beautiful hum.

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As a child in the hospital,
I could feel when death was coming.  
I could feel the soul’s energy rising
and
the sonic release from the body’s captivity.
It was quiet and luminous and sacred.

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I was 5 years old.
I was home from the hospital, briefly,
with both legs entombed in plaster casts.

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I was in a bed next to my sister.
My wood crutches with their foam handles leaned against my bed.
I could hear the sleeping breath of my beloved, older sister.
The room was dark.
I could see the  hazy light of the streetlights through the closed curtains.

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I could plan my dreams when I became a sentient being.
I planned  nightly adventures of flying.
I was fully awake in my dreams
– all my senses were honed
instruments/receptors of life.

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In this dark room,
with only the sound of my sister’s breathing,
a sudden flood of intensely brilliant, radiating light
fell
at the end of my bed.

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Slowly,
the brilliance softened to a glow.
I could see two angels.
One with wide majestic wings and the other with wings of a sparrow.

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The one with the dazzling wide majestic wings
communicated to me
no words,
simply energy and vibration.

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The angel told me that the presence I was
sensing/ witnessing is that of the Archangel Gabriel.

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The other angel with the sparrow wings’s
was a scribe and a photographer.
I could see the upright feathered pen in the angel’s hand 
 was held above a large shining book
on a book stand.
I could see the folded up camera equipment beside the bookstand.

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Archangel Gabriel communicated to me
that they were there
to write my name down in the book
and
take my photograph.

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Time was not scientific.
I could not say how long they were there at the end of my bed.
It felt warm and beautiful like a ballroom illuminated
with candle lit chandeliers.

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I did not feel the weight of my  plaster casts.
I was floating WITH them, weightless,
in simpatico,
 and in
empathetic resonance.

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I could hear the scrawl of my name being written down:
Catherine Louise Johnson.
I knew the handwriting was florid, and I loved that fact.

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Then there was a burst of exploding light
and, my picture was taken.
I knew I blinked and my mouth was open in the photograph.

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Suddenly,
the Archangel Gabriel and the angel with the sparrow wings vanished.
The previous darkness filled the room with its weight.
My legs were entombed again in heavy plaster casts.

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I needed to ask my sister IF she witnessed
what had just occurred in our shared bedroom.
I could hear the same rhythm of her sleeping breath.
She did not see.
I knew this.

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I immediately decided I must tell my Mom and Daddy.
(My Daddy would be dead – killed in a car accident – the next year.
Decapitated. ) 
I pulled my heavy,  plaster-casted legs
over the side of the bed
and
placed my crutches under my arms.

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My arms were strong, powerful and could lift all the weight below.
I was fast on crutches- “faster than a speeding bullet”. 
I swung my body into my parents’ room.
I announced to my Mother and Daddy
– in words ( I would express in words with my family) –
that the Archangel Gabriel had visited me,
my name was in a large shining book
and
my photograph was taken.

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They both sat up and looked stunned.
I usually did not talk often: use words.
I always had “listened” and observed.
Quiet to them, but not to me.
I “listened” to them and to the silver horn within me.
Vibrations emanating from their bodies.

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A decade less than a half a century passed,
when I found my Mother’s dead body in her bed.
I entered her room and felt an aura of gold energy.

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Her dogs were all asleep on her bed.
I could discern their breath, but not hers.

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Her hand was turned with her palm up.
Her blue eyes were open  
and
her head was turned towards her window.

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The curtain was open.
She had been looking at the birds
on the  tall bird feeder I had mounted in the ground
outside her window.

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My Mother’s body was warm.
I tried to breathe life back into my Mother’s body.
My breath was met with her lung’s water.
I prayed for strength and grace
as I knew I would shatter the hearts
of my brothers and sisters.
The children who I thought were as tiny
as the black and white pictures
I was shown of them while in the hospital.
They were miracles to me in the flesh.

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Weeks after my Mother’s funeral,
I called the presiding minister on the telephone.
I asked if he would kindly visit my studio and he said yes.
Speech, words, were stolen again, from me.
The crucible of the pain of grief summoned
my first language of energy and vibration.
I had become an artist as I knew I would be.

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All I could do, in grief,  was create- draw and paint-
– my  silent vehicle of transformation and transcendence.
The minister came and looked at my work.
He was silent in his gaze.
He moved back and forth,
closer and then further away
as the gold  paint on the  dawn’s morning yellow
 shifted from brilliance to silence.

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Time passed slowly as I watched him
look at and “listen” to my paintings.
I “listened” to  the sound of reverence in his gaze.

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He told me I captured
what he has seen,
over and over again,
when the soul leaves the body
of his dying parishioners.
A rising of  luminous energy.

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He told me that in Hebrew the word for God is Yahweh.
He then  said very slowly:
“Yahweh means breath
and
how the word is spoken is like breathing
-inhale and exhale.
You have created BREATH paintings.”

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waterfall_willowriver_4nov2016_2

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