I have become a master painter

Tens of thousands of brushstrokes

All done under the yoke of “not good enough”

The judgement of the world had snuck in-

The dollars and cents value of things

Rotting the core of “my tree”

“My unconditional friendliness towards myself”

“““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““

Having awakened to this form of my conditioning-

I am no longer a slave to the market place

And declare out loud-that ”I do not sell my art…

It’s a give away”

It was a joy to make …

And by opening the door

The piece will find it’s home …. more easily

Money has been in the way of flow

Money has been in the way of value.

I’m a living experiment.

Life is fascinating.