Shakti


Source
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On the way back
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Pineal
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Void I, photography

Void II, photography
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Leaving the earth
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« Kundalini »
She’d look like this, she probably looks like this
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Sacrum departure II, III, photography
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« spinal sweep »
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Deciphering


Primary seed

I remember being flooded by images and symbols for months and months while in the midst of the awakening process, and trying to figure it all out, trying to connect the dots like a detective.. The mind wants to make sense. Can it be this cliche? Can it be this simple..? Can it be this… literal?

So now when I see a couple of roses, I can’t help but see the dyad, the double, the original twins, the mirror and the ideal friend.. all the while longing for the merge back to unity and peace. And only when I am there fully, maybe, I will be able to see two roses again.


For the twos and the third
Twinned hydrangeas in Normandy

crossing over


Close-up of the Helix nebula
photo from Wikipedia NASA, NOAO, ESA, the Hubble Helix Nebula Team

 

Death precedes rebirth.
We actually leave the body
Through the crown
Straight into the stars, and back to earth.
Awakening
To Something else

Fear of death, checked.

A loss of vitality prevents us from the slightest distraction. A state of energetic numbness for long enough to ask.. what is It that animated us..? Encaged in a body devoid of liveliness, we start to question how we could get -It- back. We crave the light reflecting on the flowers. The birds flying through the sunny sky. The red fruits. No art, no music, no religion could ever move anything but these simple elementary things. We touch the core of our being by the loss of It. It is not solely a mojo thing, It is not depression. It might be a « dark night of the soul ». Or not even that yet. We sense It couldn’t get any deeper. Devoid of any external satiation, we get closer to our true selves… only when it is not sought after can It be revealed. Consciousness. Matter. What are we surrendering to? We don’t know.

Until we let it all go. The need to know. And when this happens, It bursts and rises along the axis. A beautiful elixir. Mysterious. Received.

The golden flower/ Eros


Hilma Af Klint, 1906-07

At some point in the healing process, we return to the simple enjoyment of things here on earth, no more sticking to ideas, no more seeking, no more pursuits or identifying. We delve in those spaces, only for commentary, only to play. We are free to switch back and forth.

One masters Truth, and the other one Love, until both merge into silence. We were already there. But every road is necessary, and as long as we return, it’s okay to wander.

Emma Kunz study

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Emma Kunz (1892-1963) was a Swiss artist, healer and spiritual researcher, born to a family of weavers. She made large drawings on graph paper, one of which I reinterpreted here with embroidery.


Emma Kunz 1958

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Inside the « grotto » at the Emma Kunz zentrum in Wurenlos, Switzerland, where she found her healing rock « Aion A ». Now something to ponder on : a very established contemporary artist says that her work is pretty insignificant at this time -artistically speaking- but that she is of great importance for human evolution. Which one will last? Which one do you choose if there is such a choice to make?

Brazil on a quartz mine

Delving into the Brazilian spiritualist traditions to dig into the fear and rejection of spirituality as a form, as well as ancestral patterns with the cult and occult.

The day I arrived a man told me about soul connections, Kundalini and the blue pearl. The day I left, I saw light beings dancing all around me and a duet rising far up in the sky. In between, a psychic surgeon scratching the eyes of an old man with a kitchen knife.. and people from all around the world in search for less suffering.

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Entering the gate.
Remembering the North Pole and back.
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At the crossroad for Truth or Power
In the maze of our lives
An occultist has returned
And kneels to repent
A white owl is standing
In a night full of stars
Lights and Ufos we can’t see
They all look to find
God streaming through a man
In the middle of Brazil
Humans pray for long hours
Their scrutinize their wars inside
And meet here to make peace
With the path of the diseased
Flashes of rain and a hot sun
On top of the hills
A horse is watching
Marginal people
Staying or leaving
Toward another entrance
Seeking the Gold
Within

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Who’s calling?

Trailer for Marina Abramovic’s spiritual journey in Brazil, starting off in Abadiania

Tales from Brittany #3

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Jumping from mind to mind, stuck in obsessions, the little things of others, the little worries of others. She channels the possibilities. « Let go, let go even more, until there is nothing left. » Caught in aerial thoughts, she flies away, she hides in the clouds. I want to be safe, I want to belong. Birthing on earth as she goes, it’s a long landing on the fastest route. 21 years of age.

A cardboard box full of colorful feathers

Small objects from her travels

Ottoman oracles

Lie on the table.

Once in a while she reaches out from the ethers where she serves for the souls.
« I help them go away, I light them a candle for a smoother transition. »

A tale from Brittany #2

Our land is fleeting
From idoles to icons
As we progress through the greens
Layering its wilderness
What is this church
Which tells a story
In praise of the Seven
The Grail

A blue pearl rises
Wearing the purple robe
To celebrate the marriage
For the twos
And the third

The universal
White star

A snake is spiraling up

I came here with company
Two haunting ghosts
In place of shadows
Until they cut the knots
Until they cut the ties
Unchained from Egypt
A young woman
Giving birth
To the moon and the sun
And a lost son
Who never came back
Repeated tragedies
Cross many lifelines
Filling our fantasies
With unpalpable truths
As ways to cope
For the oldest souls
Coming over once again
To replay their wounds
And the love is still here
Familiar and sweet
For a recognition so rare
In a world full of strangers
Like knowing each others habits
Like reading each others depths
But there is a hole somewhere
A gap
Agitated
An ancient pain
That needs to be felt again

In between churches
In Iran or Istanbul
She seeks for the traces
The legacy of Saint John
Hinting the minds of perception
Through the blink of an eye

On a heart shaped rock
Sits the young woman
With he
Who used to be her husband
Across from a thin line
Created by erosion
A script is at play
In form
In fiery bodies
As time collapses
To smokey memories

The Golden Flower I

cacti

Hills of Mexico
Pale and dry
I have come for sunny pills
On the land of cochineal
Strings
Huipils
My pulsing blood
Hang on walls of cacti
Calling for fourteen years
When the plumerias were shown
At the garden of Eve
By the greatest bloom
A snake
An eye
The drive
Adorned by dog bites
With so many rays
Died in hues of blues
Pull the universe
Out of round bellies

It is soon

Somewhere

And I wonder why
I went this far to come back
With all and nothing
But knowledge hidden to all
As the finest gems are
Bland and useless
To the joyful people
There is one more paradox
On our path of return
To whom has ever lost
The seeds of eros
To whom is catching up
With the golden flower

 

 

A dual sight


A dual sight, weaving and embroidery

Shy first weaving experiment in Oaxaca, Mexico at Arquetopia art residency. My mother and I had witnessed a flying object in the sky one evening, and we both agreed it wasn’t a plane.. but as she saw a vertical string of 5 balls, to me it appeared as one big ball of light. Both are represented in layers in the middle of the piece and the signs at the top are other flashing lights I saw in the Swedish sky the previous month..

temazcal
Oaxaca, Mexico, April 2017

Bona fide temazcal experience with our dear zapotec weaving teacher maestra Norma and her family at the end of the residency. Despite our mutual language barrier, they let us share their private lodge for a cleansing ritual with warm kindness.

Temazcal is a meso-american structure (« sweat lodge ») for healing, health improvement and purification. Our teacher’s sister entered the lodge -entirely, from head to toe- and lied beside us as we got in -one after the other- to cover us with herbs wet with hot water. But all of us 3 visitors had to keep our breath at the entrance of the lodge as it is extremely hot inside, enough for our bathing suit to quickly get super wet from our own sweat. After 3 cycles of heat and cooling down, we were wrapped in total  well being. It’s somehow easy to sense that Temazcal was and is also used as an access to alternate states of consciousness.

A tale from Brittany

He built a 33 feet tall machine and destroyed everything. The city went under waters. One life after another, they suffered heartbreak. They killed themselves, and others too. So she cut her wings to join him in hell.
They rose from the ashes. With passion and a yearning so strong.
For being given another chance to find life incarnated. A glow they had lost eons ago, as they were yet to be formed, as they were one and together.

Light and life

Gopi Krishna, The awakening of Kundalini

Gopi Krishna’s « The Awakening of Kundalini » along with Jana Dixon’s « Biology of Kundalini » stress on the fact that evolution cannot exist without physiological evolution. Spiritual evolution is no more a mere belief system or concept when the physical changes felt in our own bodies are this tangible and visible. It can not be of a separate pursuit. A rewiring of our nervous system, body light, fluids, cells and chemicals must happen for the soul/energy to awaken and find a new state of being.
But transformation has to bring us back to life, not the light. Happy people don’t chase the light.

We must come back from the light. We must come back from outer space. We must return to Life.

Yet we need Mystery and transcendance stemming from the quest for something else. That is part of our human condition. The numinous. This unmatchable feeling that inspires, creates and finds expression in the world. Not for the sake of a so-called Truth. For nothing really but as a manifestation of what inhabits our psyche and history since forever. The light,  the dark and all their nuances and above. It’s all in flux, it is a continuum and a viewpoint. And there is life.

Gopi Krishna wrote this book in the 70s, stating that humanity was finally ready to delve into this new field of research. Why don’t we pay attention to this driving evolutionary and healing force behind all living things? 50 years later, this is still relevant, maybe more than ever. It is cast out and labelled as esoteric and « spiritual » but let’s see what it truly is, what it really does.

 

Returning Home 2008-2011


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The light hits the vase for the will to possess
The treacherous cure of the powerless
Hiding the marks of an unconscious cloth
Built in each and every home
That was filled with sorrow

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Saw stars too
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Years of blooms, pencil drawing on paper

 

Wherever they reside

Inside, outside, past, present and future

los
Symbol, photographed embroidery, crystal beads on leather with golden leaf

The bridge between the inner and outer. Howcome a shape as simple as a triangle could trigger such an overwhelming emotional reponse, ie a transformation. The sight -wether concrete or internal- is a bridge to a non linear dimension which stores memories that are not solely of this life. I used to dread the triangle and was led to a cult looking spiriual center. I even went on stage to embrace a triangle hung on the main wall, like the others did. It didn’t mean the triangle suddenly meant something to me, it didn’t mean anything but what I’d projected onto it. So I just made it an act of obliteration by making peace with my own shadow.

I then made this piece to materialize this reconciliation. But the story I will attach to the fear is secondary. The triangle just helped some stored energy move again.


The third, ink on paper


« Do you allow yourself to be tender », embroidery


« O » void eclipse, embroidery on leather with silver leaf


Swedish sky, ink drawing

Void I, photography


Void II, photography
Source

Illumination, crystal embroidery on leather with gold leaf photo

Here’s a glimpse, painting


Who’s calling, ink on paper

Mysterium tremendum, photography

Sacrum departure IV

Let it die