My primary state is the state of desire for self-realization. I want to think about the infinite intelligence and of the original act of creation. The first act of creation – the mind. The first condition, the State of the Original sin of our ancestors. Zoroastrianism, Vedanta, Sufism, they all spoke of the eternal intelligence, of the infinite creation. Of the crown of creation and the inglorious decline of our ancestors that caused my first condition.
I watch the outlines of her silhouette that represent my art. No, no, I am wrong she is not representing it, SHE IS IT. How to make a strict opinion on the ultimate creation? How when I am inhibited by feelings? What erodes my vanity at the same time leads me to the most beautiful pieces ever. The trigger of my art is the thought that occurs episodically, but I shouldn’t be allowed to carry that thought in my mind in any case. However, she is constantly present and she never leaves me. I am sure I’m Adam. I know that because of the Original sin. I am feeling it.
Absolutely worshiping stems from the bottom of my heart with full faith in the creative act. I am completely irrelevant in this universal process, but one drop in the many that makes Niagara Falls. Worship is necessary, targeted, focused. It shouldn’t be made of the material nature. It is directed inward, toward my thoughts to the very act of spiritual contemplation, her silhouette. I understand you, Adam. The original sin of every man individually stands in the throat, near the mouth waiting to be spoken. Otherwise, men will be eaten by side effects of the sin.
The man exists while he is thinking but in the observation is the real pleasure. Man exists while someone is remembering him; women exist while someone is longing for her. My eyes are my horizons traveling through a hidden, secret universe in its unique form. I dutifully stepped into Adam’s condition while I was thinking about this trip. It should be the easiest thing to forget. So easy and safe, but why is it difficult and impossible for me?
As a drowning man clutching at the last straw, I’m picking up the eternal urge to catch a moment in time and to represent it faithfully. If I don’t catch it now it will run away forever from my perceptions and it will move in my thoughts to live with them endlessly. I told myself to be more honest, and that those thoughts are the ones from which I should save myself but I couldn’t hear that voice. Loud shouts of the Super-ego were heard just as vague whispers. My piece stands here shown faithfully as if it were something recent, yet it was centuries away in time.
~ Zorica ~