le abre de vie

The exact same concept with a different meduim, and colour scheme on a much larger scale…. A fair reflection of my spirtual and artictic growth (no pun inteded lol) in my opinion.

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l’abre de vie

 

 

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l’abre de vie

Aphrodite

 

“The force that unites the elements to become all things is Love, also called Aphrodite; Love brings together dissimilar elements into a unity, to become a composite thing. Love is the same force that human beings find at work in themselves whenever they feel joy, love and peace. Strife, on the other hand, is the force responsible for the dissolution of the one back into its many, the four elements of which it was composed.”

-Empedocles
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Aphrodite

the mystic emotion

“the finest emotion of which we are capable is the mystic emotion. Herein lies the germ of all art and all true science. Anyone to whom this feeling is alien, who is no longer capable of wonderment, and lives in a state of fear, is a dead man. To know that what is impenetrable for us really exists, and manifests itself as the highest wisdom and the most radiant beauty, whose gross forms alone are intelligible to our poor faculties – this knowledge, this feeling … that is the core of the true religious sentiment. In this sense, and in this sense alone, I rank myself among profoundly religious men.”-Albert Einstein

” yeah me too fam”- Joel chidi Sydenham

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Blossom 

As I shift my focus towards what the lotus shows us,

I start to notice so much more,

its like hocus pocus and I’m free from the locust swarm of the norm,

returning to the form In which was born.

A new seed planted in my mind.

I Fertilised my perspective, to be less selective.

I now adore what I once abhorred.

I looked past the lies, and found I could photosynthesise… because that light inside us all…seems to be the only thing that feeds my eyes at all.
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why she hid

she hid her face, though she was niether timid nor ashamed…

niether was she meek,  nor tame…

she felt there was a lot more to her picture than just the frame…

there was nothing to hide, but so much more to see inside…

so she hid the face she had, beacasue…

she felt she was making it easier to see the soul she was…

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Be 

Individual battles that rattle our collective mind, painfully breathtaking, left us shaking, soaked in emotion, barely coping, hoping, floating, in an ocean of negativity. We dread…

Inactivity, from A will once strong, that now seems so tender. We grow colder as sin sits on our shoulders and urges us to surrender…
Our pride,

We do our best to hide fears, we dry tears, with lies…we flee from the now, and run rings round our own eyes… Somewhere in the miserable circles we see, we’ve forgotten how, to just be…
Free.

With our feelings, and thoughts. so anxious, to spend all the time we bought, we waste what little we have left. A twisted self-theft that leaves our true selfs on the bottom shelf. And our broke hearts in dept. we seek…
Verve.

To regrow the nerve,  to learn how, to just do,  without knowing exactly how…  to just be, and appreciate the unrivaled excellence, of now.

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Beautiful Struggle

so much beauty…you would struggle to see, but be left in awe once you saw it… I watched myself profit from my plummet…

Encouraged  by contagiously courageous condemnation,  inspired by painstakingly painful perspicacity…

What gave me the audacity, to stay, to face it… I had to face it, I could never escape it, through empty glasses, or an overflowing ash tray…the storm always passes, to reveal evermore joyous days…

beautiful cliches, describe all the romantic realizations… I struggle to say…

What gave me the grace, to stay…grateful, humble…to seek not trouble, when I stumbled, to burst only the bubbles, that confined I… My life-style has been ruled by error and trail, so my eye, must Seek truth, until ONE can no longer hide behind Denial…

I changed my mind to find;

The true intentions behind ,the whimsical lies of life, the tranquil amidst the turmoil, the strength in each stumble, the air within the bubble, the relics among the rubble…all that is beautiful within, my struggle

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Obbatala and Sango

Sango and his wife Obba (the original zues and Metis) Two of the yoruba Orishas. I wanted to depict them not as gods, but as a yoruba man and woman that had awoken the God inside them.

Obatala is the mother/father of all Orishas and of human beings. She/He is also the owner of all heads and minds. Through Olorun, who created the universe.

IMG_0631Sango (shango) may be the most well known of the Orishas. He governs lightning, thunder, fire, drums and dance. Shango, a warrior Orisha of intelligence and wit, has irascible temperament and is the embodiment of manhood.

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(you can find out more on http://www.africanmagick.com/orisha-info.html)

Pisces

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The story of the birth of Christ is said to be a result of the spring equinox entering into the Pisces, as the “Savior of the World” appeared as the Fisher of Men. This parallels the entering into the Age of Pisces.  In other words Pisces symbolizes the selfless aspect of human nature in which we are compelled to see the environment and mindset of others grow as ours does.

I’m not a pisces by the way, just saying

Sinai 

    The preacher begins to speak of peace, as the quire grows quiet. The sermon was yearning to learn, the demons were burning in the urns of those earning. 

The spirit however, did not desert the undeserving. Every soul within the temple could feel a tide turning, in a baptism of realism. Manifested true, through a catalogue of material cataclysms. Each eye saw the same Visions of the Schism.
The walls began to burn, unconcerned by who was what, or who wasn’t  with sin. The temple began combusting, like a furnace, yet not even a single Scream scratched the surface; 

The preacher was now looking increasingly nervous. Pushing his faith desperate to see the purpose, of the torture that he had used to torch the tortious…

Wealth had now become worthless; to all the snowy Saints in their burning churches. That now claimed to know of holy verses, yet could not recall their saviours birthplace; 
The quire so inspired that they sang through the fire, until the entire procession sought out a new professions. 
Like the holy smoke that filled their lungs and stained the air. They where there, yet everywhere. A heavy cross to bare, till they were near, their last breath…

A church full of New desciples that wrote divergent bibles, as they stifled, walking through the fiery shadow of death…