The Dimensions

In this way, all dimensions from the first dimension to the thirteenth dimension .. and beyond .. could communicate.

Master .. teach me!

"Draw me a multi-dimensional face!" said the Master.

I drew the face...

"Did you do the research on the dimensions?" asked the one dimensional face.

"Yes! I did the research..."

"So, what did you find?"

"They don't understand." I replied.

"Are you a scientists? A mathematician?" asked the one dimensional face.

"No! I am not a scientist. I am not a mathematician." I said.

"So, how can you begin to understand what I teach?" asked the Master.

"I mean .. who are you .. little human?"

"I am an Artist." I said.

There was a long silence.

The one dimensional face looked at me without moving.

"You are an Artist!" said the Master.

Is this the drawing of the dimensions I asked you to do?"

"Yes!!" I answered, sheepishly.

BAM !!!

"What did you just do to my drawing ???" I screamed.

"Yes! I see you are an Artist," said the Master. "I simply made a shift in the perceived dimensions."

"Color .. light .. and form are all part of the same dynamic. In this way, your three dimensional form can express conscious awareness through the first, the second and the third dimensions."

"The beauty of the dimensions is that they cannot be separated .. split or divided." said the one dimensional face.

"The first dimension .. is part of the second dimension .. is part of the third dimension .. is part of the fourth dimension..." said the Master.

I looked back at the two drawings. They are both the same .. but different. Color and form are not superior to frequency .. but they harmonize within an infinitely balanced whole. The key is balance!

"Is balance .. understanding?" I asked.

"Exchange..." said the Master, "balance is the art of exchange."

The Artist

"You think you are so clever! Don't you!"

"Duh! Who said that?" I turned to look away from the computer.

"...So superior!"

Oh! Man! Now I am hearing things! I looked around the room.

"Ha! Ha! Ha! .. You idiot!"

I am sitting here, peacefully studying on the computer .. focused on my screen .. and suddenly, I am hearing strange voices from nowhere... Coming out of the Aether...

"Voices from nowhere! Ha haha ha ha .. "

"Open your mind !!"

I slowly turned my head to the face at the window. How did that face get there? Am I dreaming ??

"How did I get here?" the face replied, "how did you get here, you mean."

Leaning against the rooted ginger plant, under the leaves of the potted sweet chestnut was a singular face. A one dimensional drawing on paper.

"How did you get into my apartment?" I asked.

How stupid of me, I felt like a fool talking to a one dimensional drawing on paper. I really must be dreaming .. but when will I waken up?

"Ha .. ha .. haha! So, I am a one dimensional drawing!"

"How did you get into my apartment?"

"The same way you got in," said the face.

The Three Dimensional Human
I leaned back against my chair and looked more carefully at the face. Fragile lines .. static and unmoving .. and yet they were not so static. Something in them was moving .. unseen .. undirected .. called Art.

"Who drew you?" I asked, "who is the Artist?"

"The same who created you," said the face.

"But! I am human... " I said.

There was silence.

In that moment .. it was as though all the dimensions came together as one. My mind drifted to another time and space. I recalled a strange dream . . . so long ago. A dream I never really understood.

In the dream I was a one dimensional form moving with all other life forms on a living canvas of creation. Color was life and life was color. Movement was color. There was no form and yet we were primary forms. We were the building blocks of life.

I looked at the face and I saw myself.

"Who created us?" I asked, "who is the Artist?"

The lines of the face merged with the paper as the colors merged with my mind. The green chestnut leaves merged with the tall ginger stalks as the light entered the window.

The glass of the window merged with the grey clouds as the light bled through all things. Into my mind. Through the paper. Onto the glass. Structuring the leaves. Giving form to life.

The signature of the Artist was in the structure and color of the leaves .. was inscribed inside my heart. The signature was evident in the colors. In the light. Within the form and within the formless.

The three dimensions of my human form were designed using the first and second dimensions. The fourth dimension was designed using the first, the second and the third dimensions.

In this way, all dimensions from the first dimension to the thirteenth dimension .. and beyond .. could communicate.

A Three Dimensional Symbol

Hands thrust deep in my trouser pockets .. I walk into town.

The sky overhead is a bleak, depressing and oppressive grey. My jacket is too light for this uncomfortable, water-filled, icy cold air. I keep my hands deep in my pockets .. as I walk...

I tried to imagine how the Tibetans had kept warm .. over thousands of years .. in those high [but cold] mountain sanctuaries. I tried to go back in time and remember how one keeps warm in a cold environment.

Instead .. my mind began to wander.

Shoulders hunched, I keep my hands deep in my pockets as my mind wanders off to some other world of three dimensional symbols.

It began with the Mother Board .. I take apart computers [in this life] .. but I see a kind of Zen in all things. The motherboard came to me in that moment.

The motherboard .. built into every human .. mitochondrial DNA called Eve. Scientists say they can trace the mother, but not the father of each dynamic string of humans. What do they mean they cannot trace the father? Not much has changed in a billion years...

If there is a motherboard, there has to be a fatherboard. Both have to exist inside the human being. I did not notice the biting cold air as I reasoned the enigmatic existence of the fatherboard.

This makes no sense, I thought!

Where there is a mother there has to be a father. Chicken or the egg .. which came first? The mother cannot exist without the father and the father cannot exist without the mother. Still science says that the father is hard to identify.

The child cannot exist without father and mother . . . but the mother also cannot exist without the father and the father cannot exist without the mother. The fatherboard and the motherboard are equally necessary for the human computer to run.

Perhaps men have a more dominant fatherboard while women have a more dominant motherboard? But, it may not always work out like that... Both forces have to work in harmony inside the human being or balance is lost. Yin and Yang .. the Tao.

A Three Dimensional Symbol
I no longer notice the cold .. my shoulders are relaxed as I gaze down at the path ahead. Step by step, I look .. but, I do not see the outer path. All I see is the inner path.

Fatherboard and motherboard are balanced in harmony inside me.

I am a three dimensional symbol painted onto the canvas of life. The male and female force work in harmony to keep me healthy and alive. The brush draws ink onto paper...

It is said that when the sage of Calligraphy .. Wang Xizhi's brush touched paper .. his student's became enlightened.

The form ... paper, brush and ink .. create a one dimensional symbol. While, the Master's brush creates a two dimensional form on paper. I keep walking .. not noticing my hands.

I look ahead, without seeing.

I keep walking, as the path shows me I am a three dimensional symbol.

Who then .. is the artist?

Soft Muscle Hard Bones

"Each part of your body
should be connected to every other part."

- Zhang San Feng

I was an Apache warrior before 'The Reservations' ...

My Apache fierceness was connected to my devotion, which was connected to my skill as a warrior and as a human being. The Elders trained my body as the Great Spirit trained my mind.

We knew when to face and we knew when to run .. we knew when to hide and we knew when to attack. We knew where to hide and we knew how to confront. We knew when to kill and we knew how to die.

My devotion to the Great Spirit guided me in all things.

Killing our enemy was the same as killing the Great Spirit. We never took killing lightly. It never came easy to us. Killing an enemy was like soft muscle and hard bones. The bones and the muscles are interdependent .. the Apache knew this.

I lived 43 Suns before the white man came.

The white man was hard muscle and soft bones .. the opposite of all that the Great Spirit taught us. The white man was afraid, and that made his bones soft. The white man liked to kill, and that made his muscles hard.

It was an insult to the Creator to fight with hard muscles and soft bones.

My people were moved to reservations .. the rest of us died.

I was not for the reservations. A small number of us could survive in the wilderness .. hard bones guided by soft muscles. That was how we lived until we died.

When I died the Great Spirit laughed... He laughed so much, that I laughed with him. Then I looked back a long long way .. to that place behind me .. that place I had left behind. The place of hard muscle and soft bones.

Connected To Every Other Part
As a male warrior, I was born into a tradition of many teachers who are one. The elders taught us .. the Great Spirit guided us and the Ancestors watched over us.

Our muscles are soft for a reason. Our tendons balance the softness of the muscles and the hardness of the bones. Our bones are hard for a reason. That was the way it once was.

Along the trail a young coyote had died.

First his organs melted with his blood. Then his muscles began to dry up with his brain. Then his fur and his tendons dried like straw in the hot Sun .. and last of all his white bones lay upon the path ahead.

The white man fears the bones most of all .. their sign for death.

The white man kills out of fear, where the Apache killed out of need.

I looked back down the trail to where the Great Spirit was looking and laughing. People without bones worshiping the soft flesh. The Great Spirit was laughing so hard, that I also began to laugh.

The Apache built their foundation on hard bones .. moving with soft muscles .. tempered with tendons .. fed with organs .. nourished with blood. The waters of the Earth moved freely within us.

My skull lay unseen under the tall red walls of some dusty canyon, until the winter river swell carried it away. No different than my brother, the coyote, on his way across the path.

We Apache, were the Masters of timing and movement... each part of the body was connected to every other part. Each part of the body was connected to the Universe. But, most important of all .. each part of the body was connected to the Creator .. the Great Spirit that moves in all things.

Soft muscle .. hard bones...