Afleveringen
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The Song From Today's Episode: Until Love Becomes My Name
Books For Artists
My Public Diary
The road.
Sometimes, other people hear your voice before you do.
Sometimes, other people see a light you don't.
And they tell you it shines from you.
And you don't believe them; how could you?
For you don't see that light.
But you've been looking.
But you've been looking in the wrong places.
Treading carefully along a path well-lit.
But no path worth walking is well-lit.
No path well-lit is worth walking.
The path that's for you is pitch-black.
And by walking it, you disappear.
Your road wants you naked.
By walking it, you unclothe.
And by getting to know the road, you are getting to know yourself.
And when the road knows you, and you don't know the road.
Jump.
Others have jumped before you.
And with every step, you are a little less you and a little more road.
And there will come a step when there is one last foot you and one fresh foot road.
And when you take that final step, you become the road.
Your real work is the death of you.
A birth cloaked as death.
It’s sweet to die alive.That’s three letters we sing in one song.
But from your lips this time.
GodMastery And God
Hard work is required to gain the skills. A master then unlearns everything to become a child again. He learns to surrender to the divine. He learns to be life; not force it but to let it unfold through him. He learns to trust in life and knows he’s a mere tool of creation. He obeys and respects the art that comes through. He sees the brilliance of the art and recognizes that he is a mere fool and the work is untouched by him; hence the art captures divinity he could never create alone. Great effort turns to non-effort for the master who has walked the long road that ends in God. He dissolves into his work and smiles when the world cherishes his art. It is not his art, it's the world’s. He quietly communes and serves. He became an artist by his own hands; then at the edge of mastery, he let go and let God do the rest.
a genius
Let's the divine do it all
takes all the credit
know he's a fool
The more one tries
the less genius he is
The more one surrenders
the more intelligent one becomes
Life is intelligence
geniuses don't stand in the way of lifeYou can’t police the divine like you police yourself
I never know how
The song writes itself
I never know how
The book writes itself
I sit by myself
And I feel I ought to write
I get up and grab my guitar
And the most beautiful little piece comes my way
Through my hands
Untouched
Divine
Pure
Effort is not a word I’d use
Floating perhaps
Stepping aside
Surrendering
Bathing in bliss
The work works alone
And in that divine moment
I feel I am the work
A window
I obeyThere is no need to collect or consume anything. It's all within the soul. Unbecome. Melt all you collected. Be who you are. Create with your soul and delight the world. All is within. You came complete. Just see that, be that, and express that. It's the most natural, and effortless soul expression that you are longing for. Spontaneous unfoldment of who you are for your brothers and sisters. It’s all within. Create in meditation, bask in God, and share by direct experience. What you create emanates the state you are in when you create the work. Share God in all you do. Measure your work not by effort and time spent but by the emanation and frequencies that you delight the world with. Take care of yourself and enjoy the freedom and time you have. Watch with your own two eyes what two hands and God can create together.
Books For Artists
Lila Tace
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The Song From Today's Episode: Our Time Has Come
What makes art beautiful?
Living, emanating art holds captured beauty. The artist creating in a state of beauty, captures beauty. The artist in torment, captures torment. The artist dictates the manifestation of the art. Torment is not art. Art is beauty. The source of the art’s beauty is the artist.
What makes an artist beautiful?
Living souls are beauty, and emanate beauty. In a state of free flow of self-expression, in the present moment without the burdensome past, the artist emanates natural beauty. With a drink or two, in pleasant company, on a romantic date falling in love—the artist is beautiful. In agony, the artist seems small and fragile. On a sunny day when all goes well the artist shines. Natural beauty is a fragrance of the soul. The beauty of the physical body without emanation of beauty is half the charm. Charm is authentic self-expression in a natural free flow. The accumulated past obstructs free expression.
Why does the past obstruct the artist’s natural, living, emanating expression of self (beauty)?
I am my soul, free and divine. But life taught me otherwise. Life taught me to be stiff and careful, boxed in and robotic. Natural expression is dimmed by past experiences held dearly. Paying attention, entertaining, and nurturing past patterns keeps them engaged and alive. Surrendering patterns to God melts them in love. Awareness is seeing patterns unfold and gently telling them ‘You are not inherent in my soul; I am looking at you; I held you dearly but now I give you to God’. In time the patterns fall away.
How does an artist cultivate awareness to surrender all that is not beauty?
The soul is inherently beautiful. The soul is inherently aware of itself. The soul is awareness. The soul is witnessing unfoldment. The soul is witnessing the world. A slight change of focus inwardly is all that is required. From that meditative stance, patterns are seen, recognized, and gently released. The release is accompanied by relaxation and peace.
How does a corrupt artist create beautiful art?
While in a state of corruption, bothered by the past, restricted in natural self-expression: through meditation, and in states of flow or through alcohol and drugs, the artist communes and makes art. In states of happiness and relaxation, the artist creates freely. When patterns of restriction arise the artist surrenders them and with newly gained freedom creates art more beautiful than ever before. The only lasting creative flame comes from releasing patterns of restriction of self-expression. Authentic art is beautiful art.
The corrupt artist may also purge the patterns by creating art upon traumatic patterns and capturing the release of that pattern in the art. Such art holds resolutions and hence is beautiful, deeply emotional, and freeing to the receiver of the art going through similar energetic unfoldment in their life.
Drugs and alcohol are but a shadow of divine creation and are no lasting solution to greater self-expression. Learn to witness, observe, and gently release restrictions of self-expression. Often traumatic events from childhood become deep-rooted patterns that when released allow the artist to express naturally.
The only way out is in. Honey is made from within. The world is a reflection of the internal state of the artist. The art is a reflection of the artist's inner state of being. What a wonderful learning tool! Solid, undeniable captured pieces of self, suspended in time to witness the divine process of dissolution into art. Dissolve your patterns into the light and create greater and greater art. Delight the world with your art. Free yourself to create beauty. Show your true authentic self, uncover it by creating art, and witness the progress. Be selfless. Selflessness is beauty itself.
The most beautiful works of art are not made through corrupt hands. Beauty is a selfless expression of the soul through art for the delight of the world. The world looking at itself. A divine artifact of collapsing individuality into God.
The spiritual path of art is the artist dissolving through art into God.
Books For Artists
Lila Tace
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Zijn er afleveringen die ontbreken?
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The Song From Today's Episode: Kiss My Lips Red With Love
The young artist is fragile in many ways. Making himself available to real creation, he leaves himself vulnerable. Vulnerable to judgment, doubtful, and susceptible to feedback or lack thereof. The young artist’s journey is that of fighting with himself for himself. His character is marked by and built through struggles, hurdles, and pains to overcome. The young artist finds himself in many trials, mostly of the making of his mind. Who is he to be, the artist his heart claims to be? Who is he to lead and stand for something? Who is he to help and nurture with his art and words and taste and courage?
Trials by fire are many for the young artist. His old ways are at odds and in stark contrast with his emerging self. He transforms into an artist by facing each pain (often reluctantly after much suffering). Being an artist does not come easy or free of charge. It is one of the most challenging journeys of all. It is the journey of the soul. From darkness to light, if you will. Hardships are many, and almost in secret, the young artist’s ego fights until it relinquishes its selfish stance, turning an artist into an angel. Long, hard looks in the mirror. Moving in the dark, with only God to lead. Intuitions get sharpened with each failed or successful adventure. It is all the same: the lesson is the point.
Selfish artists create ugly work, full of themselves, wanting money and fame from the art, not creating for others but for themselves. Selfless artists, pure of heart, create work that shines and holds light, like the sun — shining on its own. Not for its own sake but to bring life to the world. Nourishing others but being full all the same. Not of need to give, but their very being is a ray of giving of the highest order. But angels have once all been men. The journey then is from selfish to selfless — from men to angels.
You and I are angles. But angels in the making. We have many hurdles to overcome with ourselves. Like yesterday when you did not share your work or deleted your last article. Or when you wrote a song only to put it in the drawer accompanying all your other songs, collecting dust. The light is dim and barely visible to the young artist, and ignorantly, he still follows it. He knows it’s his only way, his only choice — not a choice, maybe — but his destiny.
The young artist has something in him that wants to bloom, and he obeys. He has no choice in what wants to bloom — he lets it. Often, he resists the work that wants to come through, and he is scared to share it. It is so different, so peculiar, so odd, so strange. He knows not what to do with it. The obvious answer is to share it. That work is clearly not meant for himself alone. Art is only art when shared. That peculiar-strange kind of art always has funny ways to find itself in the right hands at the right time.
So then, I write these lines to conclude that I am a clueless artist, very young at heart with a long journey ahead, but willing and able. And I hope you join me in our shared ignorance.
Art is only art when shared.
Books For Artists
Lila Tace
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The Song From Today's Episode: Straw Man, Sail To The Moon
There are 3 acts of every artist’s journey.
Act 1: Asleep
Act 2: Awakening
Act 3: AwakenedAct 1:
You create work as a selfish artist at home. You think your work is exceptional and are owed money and fame. You may hoard your work in your drawer or under your bed. You are bitter that other artists are famous, but you are not. You are just as good as them but poor and unhappy.
Your work is about you and your struggle to wake up. You create work about your heartbreaks, bad parents, and the unfairness of life and mimic songs of love and devotion. And you dare to call that art.*
Eventually, you have enough and want to collect what is owed. You realize that no one will discover and pick you. You know that no one will come and make you rich and famous. Now, you take matters into your own hands. You use social media to show yourself and your work. You follow the rules to get the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. But no one wants your selfish work. It is ugly.
So now you try and force that ugly work onto people, perhaps with ads and shouting, pretty makeup, dancing, screaming, and showing your beautiful life in pictures and videos. ‘Look at me!’ you say. But they look away.
You realize that something does not rhyme. You spent your entire childhood chasing a dream, and it eludes you. You put in the 10,000 hours, for God’s sake! Where is your price? So, you start to contemplate your approach. Who is your work for? Who are you delighting? You think perhaps you are selfish. And you are.
You consume content about online business, marketing, and entrepreneurship. You explore what artists have done that ‘made it.’ You get into self-development and perhaps meditation. You feel that this approach lightens the grips of selfishness, and you relax into your work. Your work starts to change.
You learn that commerce is about solving problems. You understand that to solve your issue of acquiring money and fame, you need to get money and attention from someone. You know that for someone to give you money, you must provide them value. You understand that for someone to pay attention to you, you must help them get what they want. Your work starts to become about others and not about yourself.
You struggle to monetize your art as it is not made for such commerce. Art is gift-giving, and your awakening artist’s heart knows that. So you explore creating products and services around your art to make money so you finally have time to make art. Perhaps you start teaching or coaching, create courses and communities, and maybe make money.
You know this cannot be it. This is not what you signed up for. You signed up for art, artistry, and the life of an artist. Yet you make barely any art. Perhaps you make barely any money. Maybe you are lost in money making. Either way, you do need money. Keep your business alive for now. Keep your part-time job even if it is unbearable.The only way out of your dilemma is to enter Act 2.
*Express any topic! The intention behind the work is what matters. The state you create works in matters. Topics are dances of creativity. Sex and joy are as sacred as god and love.
Act 2:
A life of service and gift-giving awaits you, which is quite joyous. It is what artists do, and you are an artist.
You pick a group of people and delight them with your art. You are specific! You decide to devote your life to them through art. This is scary as you are now exposing yourself to that group, and they respond. You get feedback, and that hurts. Perhaps your work is not as good as you thought it was.
You take all your might and keep making and sharing your work because that is what you do now. You often feel so much pain that you repeatedly run back to Act 1 until you eventually stop running. You use feedback from your people and ignore all other opinions. You simply serve and want to delight them with what you create selflessly. It is not about you anymore; it is about them. They start to appreciate you for it.
Your work now becomes your gift. It becomes good enough for your fans to love and share it. Positive feedback and word of mouth kick in slowly. This is not the overnight success you dream of, but you are delighted and happy serving your fans. This is different from the breakthrough success, dollar signs, or amount of attention you wanted; for some reason, you are content. You keep serving your fans.
Perhaps you get the reward of money with your art, but that is not why you do the work. You do it for the sake of doing it. Perhaps you build a selfless business around your craft out of joy. You overflow, so you give of yourself, perhaps as a product or service. Maybe you just share, and people want to give back to you. You can choose to monetize your craft. That is up to you.Sneakily, you mature into Act 3.
Act 3:
You lost yourself in your work, and that is good. You are no more when you create your work. You flow with life, and the wind is in your back. You are not fighting anymore; you are living. You have surrendered yourself to your work and to your fans and God. Creation flows through you. You realize that making art and delighting your fans is your spiritual discipline. Perhaps you never considered yourself spiritual, and the words don’t matter, but you feel God through your work. You are absorbed when you create it, and that is meditation. You have no words for it, but you are delighted to participate in the dance that life has planned for you. You feel you have a mission, and you do.
You need no guidance at this stage; you will be helped and guided. You realize that your work spreads naturally to the right hearts, and you awaken them. Not because you intend to but because your work holds the truth of the universe. It is beautiful. While you create your work, you disappear; there is only the creation of the work. The creator and the art do not exist, only the dance of creation. There is God, the artist, and the work of art. But perhaps there is just God.
You do not claim ownership of your creations; how could you? You did not create them. You are simply a vessel of truth and light. You dance with life. You, of course, live your life and return to live in the world, talk from your separate self, and connect to others as usual. Your identity shifted, and you are gracious in the way you interact. But you keep your relationship with God quiet. You simply commune and do your work. To speak of God is to dilute the message. Your work of art talks enough.The journey of the arts mirrors the journey of the soul. Art is your way home. And it’s your time.
Books For Artists
Lila Tace
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My Soul's Shoes:
My Soul's Shoes, my little heart
T' was a lonely road; I've arrived
A door with my name
The unknown, one step to take
Goodbye tongue, goodbye eyes
I am blind; you are light
No more rules, no more form
The pavement's holding me; the pavement's gone
I bridge poetry and song
My bridge to build, my weight to hold
My Soul's Shoes, my little heart
From death to life, colored bright
My Soul's Shoes step into the night
T' was a lonely road
Books For Artists
Lila Tace
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A Life With You On A Bed:
A life on a bed with you
An opportune time for my rusty heart to heal in your arms
Am I on your mind?
Cause you occupy my every fiber of soul
Call out for me; will you, beautiful?
Sojourn with me on a bed
Heal my soul with your touch
And I’m yours for as long as you like
A song with your harmonies
Live-to-tape on an afternoon
A life on a bed with you
I’m a dreamer; may I dream of you?
Sojourn with me on a bed
Heal my soul with your love
And I’m yours for as long as you're mine
A life with you on a bed
A life with you on a bed
A life with you on a bed
Books For Artists
Lila Tace
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my struggles & valuesI. Private Art: comfortable growth at own pace
II. Public Art: compressed, pressured growth; leaps if not abandoned; facing pain in public
III. Mastery: establishing one's voice through one's chain of art (portfolio) = carving one's place in artA box is a beautiful frame until it becomes my prison. Mastery requires demolition, undoing, and liberation. Masters fly like birds, and so I, too, must let go and fly.I'll End In My Heart:
I’m a back-to-earth kind of folk
Hitting the road with my songs
Zen walking, the music’s talking
I’m budding wonderful nonsense
Keep me afloat; carry both hands
Enter the mouth of a cave
No sigh to relieve, steely purpose
From solitude to service
I’m Zen walking; God’s talking to meTake my hand, lead the way
No more rope; I am breaking apart
I’ll end in my heart
Take my life, lead the way
I’m no more; I am breaking apart
I’ll end in my heart
I’m a back-to-earth kind of folkHitting the road with my songs
Zen walking, the music’s talking
I’m budding wonderful nonsense
Keep me afloat; carry both hands
Enter the mouth of a cave
No sigh to relieve, steely purpose
From solitude to service
I’m Zen walking; God’s talking to meTake my hand, lead the way
No more rope; I am breaking apart
I’ll end in my heart
Take my life, lead the way
I’m no more; I am breaking apart
I’ll end in my heart
I’m Zen walking; God’s talking to me
Books For Artists
Lila Tace
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Creation plays by its own drum, balancing the scales. I am but a speck on my isolated road. There’s the world’s heartbeat, but mine beats differently. I am selfish; is that where I go wrong?
Art restores my connection. Art reminds me to be humble. Art is my gift of union. When there is art, there is but one collective being. And I am it. And I am nothing. When I swim in art, I drown, and I am the water and its waves.
Artist = Instrument Of Creation
Art = Window To GodLife shows me what I need to see, gives me what I need to have, takes what I need to let go.The only intelligent way to live is to surrender because how can I — a minute drop of creation — see the bigger picture?
The greater good is the only good.They'd Call Me 'Artist' In America:
Panic this, panic that.
Just an everyday Wednesday.
Connect the dots, looking back.
Pity me, Wednesday.
Waxing philosophic, someday iconic, an enigma - I am, I am, I am.
Poetic pursuits, idiot of creation, tied up like glue - I am, I am.
A highway, gateway, door to a nation that nobody knows - I am, I am.
Humble servant, giant fool, tortured soul.
They’d Call Me ‘Artist’ In America.
Panic this, panic that.
Just an everyday Wednesday.
When it works, it really works.
When it doesn’t, it doesn’t - stay in the game!
Waxing philosophic, someday iconic, an enigma - I am, I am, I am.
Poetic pursuits, idiot of creation, tied up like glue - I am, I am.
A highway, gateway, door to a nation that nobody knows - I am, I am.
Humble servant, giant fool, tortured soul.
They’d Call Me ‘Artist’ In America.
Books For Artists
Lila Tace
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Your catalog is your calling card.Don't optimize your actions based on how people perceive you. Optimize your actions based on what's true to you.If somebody sees me in my songs, I've made a mistake.Why does my art exist? Not all art is equal. Do I stand in the way of art?
When there is me in the song, something is wrong. Is it about me?
Art is for self-healing until the scales tip. Then, art changes the world.Play like a child. Write like a child.'One guitar, one voice' exposes all. Where can I hide behind no arrangement, collaborators, or fancy production? I feel exposed—my state of being undeniably captured. Where to put the fear? Where to hide the heart? One naked moment of truth—my mirror, my learning tool. Complete exposure. Learn to love it.Today's recording session was hard. It feels like I wage a battle against myself daily. Today, I won.
My goal is to create new art every day, Picasso style. Why was he the most famous painter in the world? — His creative output? Why was he so confident in his ability? — He painted until painting became his identity? What is my identity? Will I claim it?House Of Glass:
I'm a visionary, not a hoper, not a dreamer; you disagree
Call me romancer, idealist, castle builder, and that's okay
But it's me who's changing the world; impacts the masses while you're watching
From your House Of Glass
You're a worker; I've heard of those; work for duty is killing you softly
You're a worker of soul-draining work, soul-eating work; there's really no meaning
From your House Of Glass
We need an anthem, us creatives, us innovatives, we are a few
This is for you, for your hardships; you're the hero the world needs
This is a thank you for all that can't say it; stay starry-eyed
And break your House Of Glass
The rest of the world sleeps at the sidelines
The brighter your light shines, the more are watching
From their House Of Glass
Books For Artists
Lila Tace
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I’m a madman, mesmerized.
By the love she holds for me, just now, I learn to see.
I’m a madman in the sublime.
Darling, truth be told, my heart is never bold enough.
I’m a madman, terrified.
By the beauty that life holds, I pray you won’t let go of me.
Thoughts be sublimed by the spirit of the night.
Our bodies in a dance, not you, not two, there’s one of me.
My potency of prose is your love for me.
I’m a madman, crucified.
A minute drop of blood; wipe away the stain.
I’m a madman, hypnotized.
She paints me on her sky; why would I refrain from life?
Thoughts be sublimed by the spirit of the night.
Our bodies in one dance, not you, not two, there’s one of me.
My potency of prose is your love for me.
I’m a madman in love, mmh, madly.
Books For Artists
Lila Tace
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Where is choice in all of this?
I don’t know, I don’t know.
I write cause words call my name,
and my name is my own.
Poetry & song, a lost girl, let her fall.
Repository of secrets, a portal to the divineCarved in stone is my heart, a part of art
Romancing the stars, making love to the night
Everybody knows that they will die,
On A Godless Stage
Where is love in all of this?I don’t know, I don’t know.
My woman leads me to bliss,
She’s the only door that I know to the divine
Repository of secrets, a portal to the divineCarved in stone is my heart, a part of art
Romancing the stars, making love to the night
And everybody knows that they will die
On A Godless Stage
Books For Artists
Lila Tace
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Masters of love, muse of fire
the woman I love, my only desire
full-time employee of my heart, spiritual sister
better part of my soul, a pearl on my shore
monolithic love, in superposition
enter the stream, to never return
cunningly selfless, dangerous charm
death takes a holiday, and I'm coming alive
my renaissance, just watch my face
a pilgrimage that takes all my pain
I leave it behind, the pain crust of my past
mystical goddess, I call you by name
masters of love, doom, and gloom
she takes everything, then leaves me blue
masters of love, nefarious witch
take your needle, your poisonous kiss
masters of love, this time, I was sure
that she's everything - turns
life, the universe, and everything
Masters of love, muse of fire
the woman I love, my only desire
full-time employee of my heart, spiritual sister
better part of my soul, a pearl on my shore
monolithic love, in superposition
enter the stream, to never return
cunningly selfless, dangerous charm
death takes a holiday, and I'm coming alive
my renaissance, just watch my face
a pilgrimage that takes all your pain
I leave it behind, the pain crust of my past
mystical goddess, I call you by name
masters of love, doom, and gloom
she takes everything, then leaves me blue
masters of love, nefarious witch
take your needle, your poisonous kiss
masters of love, this time, I was sure
that she's everything - turns
life, the universe, and everything
masters of love
Books For Artists
Lila Tace
