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Tag Archives: consciousness
Making Your Unknown Known
When I went to London in the late 1960s I brought a sword with me on the plane. (It was allowed in those days.) I was bringing it over for a friend. Seven years later, when it became time for … Continue reading
Posted in ART, Art of the Path, Memoir, Uncategorized
Tagged Art, art and feeling, autobiography, bridging worlds, consciousness, intuitive knowing, memoir, Nancy Wait, painting, perception, the nancy who drew
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To Look Within
I write my life to know my life. When I write my life, the inner truth comes out. It’s like when I draw, a barrier disappears. Or fades to the background. And suddenly I’m in touch with this other vibratory field. This other awareness that rises to the surface and makes itself known. Continue reading
Drawing Cured A Stomach Ache
Did you know that drawing can cure stomach aches? Me either! But apparently it does. At first I thought I might have had a case of the New Year Blahs. Except that would have been out of character for me. The other idea that came was too awful – a sudden onset of gluten intolerance. I would hate that. Continue reading
A Writer’s Despair is an Artist’s Delight
The hand once thrown up in despair, is now ready to catch an idea, should it float through the air ~~~ Continue reading
Posted in ART, Memoir, Uncategorized
Tagged alchemy of memoir, autobiography, bridging heart and mind, consciousness, creativity, drawing, memoir, Nancy Wait, painting, the nancy who drew, writing
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The Cabin in the Clearing
Whenever I looked out the window I saw two scenes, the one from the present, and this other one, so obviously from the past. From Brooklyn as it once was. Continue reading
Posted in ART, Memoir
Tagged alternate reality, Art, art and feeling, bridging worlds, Brooklyn, consciousness, creativity, drawing, expression, inner awareness, memoir, Nancy Wait, Park Slope, soul memories, the nancy who drew
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The Earrings
It was a tiny shop. There was no one there but a woman in a sari standing behind the glass counter. She smiled at me as I came in. Or rather, her face lit up, causing me to wonder if I had been the only customer that day. I smiled back. She wasn’t young, somewhere in her forties I would have thought. Her long sleek black hair fell in a thick braid down her back. I pointed to the earrings in the window and asked if she could bring them in for me to see. Continue reading
Art Streams
Form and color they stream
through me and through you Continue reading
