Deja vu, a pound in the head, the high ringing, then a silent silent world inside – these signals pass me through the gate to a frontier, making me a free roaming agent who is not an agent. Silent, snow-covered world. It hits sick to my stomach, like a trapdoor has let loose, then I feel deeply glad.

As I go to sleep, there is a blank page, white and far. A winding deep brown line begins its path, and I am hypnotized by it, like a butterfly flying close. It relentlessly draws angles, flowers, leaves, and ferns- ugly, I cringe. 

I know it is the living wallpaper of a tour I have taken before. I’m not keen on taking it again. But maybe I am, maybe I am, because it will suffer me, and if I can be cool, real cool, the suffering will explode, and there will be a light. 

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A golden light waterfall comes from the heart, and like a benevolent colossus, the angel strides across the land. Emanations of the once and future goodness fill our world, and despite the dark and mean, it will always be, it will always be. 

Angels. These broad creatures are like elements that coagulate to do good in the physical or mostly spiritual place, and then redisperse. Gabriel organizes in the celestial, and is touching down to earth as a radiance of light, an enlightening presence here. It seems to me that Gabriel is not always here, but at this time Gabriel is here. One thing that comes to mind about Gabriel announcing the coming birth of Jesus is that Jesus brought mercy. Mercy was the newest innovation then. It is regular before and after death, and it is for us in our plight and our suffering. Mercy doesn’t destroy suffering, but it demands that we won’t suffer more than necessary, and ensures in the cosmic cycles no long-term vindictive efforts against us. Mercy dulls the regular sharp human stupidities, our long string of errors. The hot light of God melts icy shards, and we are warmed by it.

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There is a membrane separating the conscious from the subconscious. The subconscious is the source of our base urges and our greatest light, and in some people it dribbles up like a tired water fountain. Others have a greater flow rate, and they find inspiration in dreams and their interior. There are still others whose membrane is so porous that the waters of the collective subconscious rush in and drown the conscious self. These were the schizophrenics (or, in older cultures, the shamans who could navigate the psychic realms, but that’s another story). Jung had a fascinating realization: the ramblings of some of his patients matched up to his own explorations in consciousness. What he found was that he and the psychotics were encountering the same archetypal beings. They were experiencing the same realm.

The first mind is dominated by the conscious.

the second is one is balanced between the two,

and the third mind is drowning in the subconscious.

This topic comes to mind now that Agnes Martin’s work is being featured at the Tate.

Martin’s psychosis/ schizophrenia was likely caused by childhood abuse by her Mom. Childhood trauma weakens and destroys the boundaries of the self. What she did with those weakened boundaries is incredible! Because she unfettered her self-identity, she apprehended the Sublime, and created from her trans-egoic location. She saturated herself in Being. Here’s to Agnes.

(For those struggling with schizophrenia, please visit RecoveryfromSchizophrenia.org

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Hello friends and visitors! It’s been three years since I have written in this blog. It is as fine a place as any to share ideas and write, so here we are once again, or for the first time. Thank you for joining me.

I painted this self portrait last week. Spring is here in fullness. It is so warm that the daffodils are starting to bend forward and turn dry and translucent. We are two months into staying at home amidst the pandemic. The children are happy. I made them ice cream and they ran sprints while yelling about it being ready. There was even a fairy house constructed today by a real fairy.

I’m still exploring epilepsy, the soul, and consciousness. The topic is endless, so I will probably be at it for a while. The thing that remains the same is that we need Beauty, and I am doing my best to follow it, and love it, and share it.

Wishing you peace and joy,

Shannon

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Zoa And The Fawn Book (softcover)

About the book:

Follow the adventures of a little kitten and his new fawn friend through the natural wonders of Tennessee’s Cherokee National Forest.

Jane Ashworth is a 99-year-old children’s book author.

Shannon McCarthy is an artist and illustrator.

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I always have to hustle to get the paint out. It is the most exciting moment- choosing colors and dipping in a fresh brush. I used egg cartons for the paint and that worked well.

Last night after we put the pips to bed, I mixed up overnight bread so we could have bread and butter on this rainy afternoon.

This is the Overnight No Knead Bread Recipe:

6 cups flour (hopefully organic whole wheat, ideally fresh ground)

4 cups water

3 tsp salt

2 tsp yeast

Plus interesting things to mix in like rolled oats, leftover cooked grains, dried herbs, or seeds

Mix all the ingredients in a bowl. Put a lid on it. Let sit overnight (10 hours+). Stir up the mixture again in the morning, then dump dough in a bowl lined with parchment paper. Let rise for an hour. Preheat the oven to 450. When oven has reached temperature, put an oven safe pot in the oven for a few minutes so that it is super hot. Carefully remove from the oven, then lift parchment papered dough into the pot. Put the lid on. Set the timer for 30 minutes. After 30 minutes of baking, remove the lid and bake at 400 for another 30 minutes. Knock knock on the bottom of the loaf. If it sounds hollow, it’s done. Good job!

Steve fired up the outdoor sauna today so we could have a place to warm up. The Peach helped him and was very proud of herself for helping to start the fire. I asked her what she and Daddy did and she told me that “We wowked hawd an’ made a fi-ya.” Then she snuggled against me and I tucked her under the quilt for a bit to warm up.

This is the book I’m reading right now: Ayurveda and the Mind. One of the many things he discusses is the direction of our consciousness- whether its focus is on the exterior or the interior. He says (in my translation) that the senses, and processing the information that comes into the senses, can require all of our energy all the time. Because the exterior can consume all our attention, our focus can be entirely upon what we see, hear, smell, think, and desire. But here’s the rub! If we do give our sensations and thoughts all our attention, the exterior world only will seem full of light, and when we close our eyes, we may only encounter darkness. And apparently, it’s supposed to be the other way around. Lit from within, that’s the thing!

That’s basically the hoodwink of life. The smart phones and computers glow attractively, they’re totally addictive, and they suck our attention. Yet if we want to be more intelligent and aware, the wonderful world inside has to be more compelling than the wonderful world of people and movies and vacation photos. I’ve started taking a bath and reading before bed, instead of looking at a screen. It seems like a good start to being a meditator. I want to explore that inner world. Still in the travel guide section of it, though!

Steve just walked in a brought me a smoothie! I told him I wanted to start blogging again. Our dear mother’s helper is here so I get the chance to write a bit. Steve tells me this smoothie has avocado, cilantro, dandelion, stinging nettle, sorrel, and pineapple in there. We’ve been plucking the sorrel, nettles, and dandelions out of the backyard. Bitter greens go down easy when they’re blended with fruit. The rule is basically blend up half greens and half fruit with water. Since alkaloids are the medicine that goes missing from industrialized foods and depleted soils, we are trying to keep up our consumption of edible weeds, which tend to be bitter and hence mineral rich. Reminder that when picking greens- stay 100 feet away from the road and anywhere that is sprayed. Peace out and peace in!

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When I was eight, my Nana McCarthy was suddenly stricken with pancreatic cancer. Mom and Dad drove us from Florida to Pennsylvania to see her in the hospital. She was so kind, wondering if we had had enough to eat even on her sickbed. There Mom and she spoke, and I admired her, as she was easy to adore. When walking to exit the room I turned to see her in her white gown. Time stood still and my future voice said, “Last time I see her.” The moment stretched, and then ended, and there was a year of tears that followed. Some years later I passed blooming yellow roses, her favorite flower. The branches were heavy with bright unfolding blooms, and the rose bush shimmered and shook in the breeze. The roses for a second appeared like suns lit by a world behind this world.

Nana greeted me with sing song love, and the tender goodness in the space was and is a balm to my heart. After missing her for so long, I felt her presence. And it meant that all was not lost, that nothing is ever lost. What a relief. Windows like that probably happen all the time, but dense preoccupations and lower fascinations transfix the subtler perceptive abilities.

This week, Steve valiantly packed up the car and drove the young whippersnappers and me to Starseed Sanctuary to visit Satyena. We had met her seven years ago at a Michael Brown event at ClearPoint, and we were finally going to see her together at the place that she’s developed and maintained for 29 years.  The place is good. Sacred kind of feeling it has. It is quiet and there are flowers and fruit trees and a meditation room in the old house that sits on the generous land. I went to check out the upstairs of the old house when Steve gave me an hour to be alone. Coming up to the landing, a bolt of joy and terror struck me- Sri Aurobindo was on the wall making eye contact out of the frame like “BAM!” I exclaimed an emotional hello to him! It was startling to encounter him there in that full moment. I read his words often but never really see him. Until then, that is.

Steve pulled out his book and we read some pages. He talks about the Descent of the Divine. The Divine reaches down from the heavens, and humankind must reach upward to touch it. Someone asked him how to have an illumined mind full of light? He said, “It can come if you aspire patiently. But the basic condition, if you want that light, is to get rid of all other mental influences.” Then the questioner is like, “So should I not read magazines and stuff?” And he says- it’s not like that- it’s like how when a woman is infatuated with a man he is the one thing on her mind and he is the one she admires. Live your life and all that- but admire only what is most precious.

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It was encouraging to see his early drawings and paintings. They looked like beginners’ work (plus a lot of love and a good heart). But 1000 or so pieces later, the master emerges. It was seeing the Hospital at Saint-Remy that made me want to jump up and cheer. “By Jove, you’ve done it, master!”

But it has to be seen. This photo is almost useless, as the beauty of the thing is the true brilliance of the turqouise sky as it merges into cobalt. I love how he lets the colors speak for themselves. Colors are beings! Being is infused into color.

He really moved my spirit. There was a woman standing before the cypress painting and she smiled as my darling niece Aly said, “Aunt Shani when he painted grass he didn’t just paint it one color like with green- he put in lots of other colors!” My nephew Michael and James and I got to talking with her too, and she was saying how she loved the liveliness of the cypress. That Van Gogh was a master because his paintings are still alive and palpably seared with his energy. James pointed out the surprising reds in the foliage, and Michael said there’s some parts that are so simple, and others that are really worked out. We said if this tree was a song, it would be a beautiful one.

When I walked out of the show, tears were streaming from my face. He wrote that he intended to make us feel something, and wished to reconcile humans to the reality of this existence. I love him for it.

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