#822 + “PINE TREE: AN APPEAL to HEAVEN” 1999 Catherine L. Johnson + LIVING Pine Tree – Vento Nature Sanctuary 18 August 2018

WILLOW

https://catherineljohnson.wordpress.com/2016/11/27/693-waterfall-willow-shelter-in-a-storm-yourmy-willow-oh-willow-when-the-sun-is-out/

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“Real poetry is to lead a beautiful life. To live poetry is better than to write it.”

Matsuo Bashō (松尾 芭蕉)

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PINE TREE: AN APPEAL to HEAVEN                                             Catherine L. Johnson  1999

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LIVING Pine Tree                           Vento Nature Sanctuary                           18 August 2018

 

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Nature

welcomes,

invites

and

blesses

heal/thy

BLOOOOOOOOMS

with

light,

water

and

sky!

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This is true of authentic love, living love:

Nature’s beautiful offering and gift – not forced – an amazing grace of natural living love.

Let it BE y/our LIFE…

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#759 + NHØP bass solo + YoUaRemYNiGhTsTaR #1 / #2 Catherine L. Johnson + “There is a VOICE that DOESN’T USe WORDS. LiSTeN.” Rumi

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YoUaRemYNiGhTsTaR, Dr. AdvAnCed WiSdoM C

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PLEASE CLICK ON IMAGE TO ENLARGE 

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FOR FURTHER INFORMATION, PLEASE CLICK:

http://www.mnartists.org/artwork/youaremynightstar-1-2

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YoUaRemYNiGhTsTaR #1                                         Catherine L. Johnson  2017

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YoUaRemYNiGhTsTaR #1      detail                                      Catherine L. Johnson  2017

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YoUaRemYNiGhTsTaR #2                                         Catherine L. Johnson  2017

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YoUaRemYNiGhTsTaR #2      detail                                      Catherine L. Johnson  2017

 

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YoUaRemYNiGhTsTaR, Dr. AdvAnCed WiSdoM C

LiSteN!

 

LiSteN!

 

 

 

 

LiSteN!

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#703 + 29 DECEMBER 2016 + CATHERINE L. JOHNSON + “On Earth As It Is In Heaven” + DEER

LIGHTLOVEHOPEJOYGRACE

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PLEASE CLICK ON LINKS BELOW FOR FURTHER/DEEPER DISCOVERY:

https://catherineljohnson.wordpress.com/2016/12/15/700-luminous-deer-where-i-create-there-i-am-true-r-m-rilke-pine-tree-an-appeal-to-heaven-1998-catherine-l-johnson/

https://catherineljohnson.wordpress.com/2016/12/22/701-deer-male-deer-female-2016-palestarsrising-2016-catherine-l-johnson-december-2016/

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 LIGHTLOVEHOPEJOYGRACE

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29 DECEMBER 2016 / 5 pm / My birthday / Vento Nature Sanctuary with Jaspar Obi

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#694 + BREATH 1997 CATHERINE L. JOHNSON + ENERGY / VIBRATION + BREAKTHROUGHS / R/EVOLUTIONS + “When I was 5 the Archangel Gabriel visited me at 4 am…” + Yahweh

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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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 choices, recognition 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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#693 + WATERFALL + WILLOW + “Shelter in a storm YOUR/MY WILLOW Oh willow When the sun is out”

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C
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“Willow”

COMPOSED/WRITTEN BY JOAN ARMATRADING

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I may not be your best
You know good ones don’t come by the score
You’ve got something missing
I’ll help you look you can be sure
And if you want to be alone
Or someone to share a laugh
Whatever you want me to
All you gotta do is ask

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Thunder
Don’t go under the sheets
Lightning under a tree
In the rain and snow
I’ll be your fire side
Come running to me
When things get out of hand
Running to me
When it’s more than you can stand

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I said I’m strong
Straight
Willing
To be a
Shelter
In a storm
Your willow
Oh willow
When the sun is out

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A fight with your best girl
Prettiest thing you ever saw
You know I’ll listen
Try to get a message to her
And if it’s money you want
Or trouble halved
Whatever you want me to
All you gotta do is ask

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I said I’m strong
Straight
Willing
To be a
Shelter
In a storm
Your willow
Oh willow
When the sun is out

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Shelter in a storm
YOUR/MY willow
Oh willow
When the sun is out

 

 

 

 

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