Angels - Marina Petro

My "Angels" book (the paintings of Marina Petro) arrived in the post the other day and I just had to share a few of my favourites from the book.
I first came across Marina's paintings by accident when I was looking for images of crows for my post on the graphic novel  
The Crow by James O'Barr, 
The Crow: Examining the Dark Side of Life  
But I didn't use her painting, I settled for the ones you see in the post on The Crow, because I thought they suited the post better.

The crow painting of Marina's that I  stumbled across on Google Images was called Number 23, from the series of paintings in the  
You Tube above, which I thought was quite synchronistic, because whilst 23 is a very important number in my life experience, all I had in the search criteria was "Crow + Painting", nothing at all about the number 23.

Number 23 by Marina Petro

I mentioned the painting "Number 23" in my Hibiscus Sync post.
I've been following her blog since the day I stumbled across the  
Number 23 painting and have to say I find her work quite impressive. 
It's the kind of art I would like gracing my walls.
I noticed while surfing around her blog that she had published a book of her angel paintings (you can view the entire book here),
Angels

What sold me was the last painting that she had in the book, one that truly caught me off guard, and I knew then that I had to buy this book.

It reminded me so much of my own mischievous angel, Sylvester, who I've written about quite a bit on this blog.
Also it was on page 77, which I have written a post about here,
PAY ATTENTION! ... 77 from "Synchronicity and the Other Side"

Sylvester

I have to admit the I'm not that big on angels, like some people are.
I guess I'm a fence sitter when it comes to the subject of angels, like I was on orbs ... until this happened to me,
The Path to the Shore (Byron Bay)

But one thing I like about Marina's angel paintings is how she also consciously, or unconsciously represents angels as orbs, and this really strikes a cord with me.

I don't know if angels are real, or just very strong archetypes from the collective unconscious, but what does it mater if they can speak to and move your soul?

I love her work and will definitely be buying some prints off her, especially Number 23 and the Mischievous Angel.

I have to mention this bit of weirdness too, even if it is just my weird brain.
I'm reading a book at the moment called  
Shamanic Journeying:A Beginner's Guide by Sandra Ingerman.
I bought this book ages ago and started reading it and listening to the CD that comes with it, but cast it aside, because something told me I wasn't ready for it yet.
Which I believe now, that I wasn't.

I've also had this fondness for blue alien figures ... don't worry ... I don't mean it in a sexual way, I mean it in a nostalgic way;- )
Marina has a painting included in her book called Magical Angel.
I almost coughed up my coffee when I saw this one. 
It looks to me like a cross between a blue alien, an angel and my orange orb. 
And I couldn't help noticing the picture on Sandra's cover of  
Shamanic Journeying and Marina's Magical Angel painting.
To me, it looks like Marina has painted the Magical Angel with an orange orb surrounded by wings, in the background of the painting of an alien looking angel that has a yellow dot between the eyes, representing "The third eye", like a lot of Hindu women have painted on their foreheads. 
And if you look at the wrist area of the arm painted on Sandra's book cover, you'll see what looks (to me anyway) an alien looking head with two almond eyes and a triangle projecting upwards from the "third eye" area ... or the pineal gland region and into a sky filled with energy ... or lightening. 
I found this image very powerful, especially just after reading  
The Holographic Universe by Michael Talbot, where I came away from it feeling everything that we experience on this earth is just manifestations of energy waves, that appear to us as solid ... or what we interpret to be solid.

After reading Talbot's book I just couldn't get William Blake's poem out of my head.
Auguries of Innocence 

But until researching his poem now, I didn't know what lay beyond the first paragraph of

Auguries of Innocence

Auguries of Innocence

TO see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.
A robin redbreast in a cage
Puts all heaven in a rage.
A dove-house fill’d with doves and pigeons
Shudders hell thro’ all its regions.
A dog starv’d at his master’s gate
Predicts the ruin of the state.
A horse misused upon the road
Calls to heaven for human blood.
Each outcry of the hunted hare
A fibre from the brain does tear.
A skylark wounded in the wing,
A cherubim does cease to sing.
The game-cock clipt and arm’d for fight
Does the rising sun affright.
Every wolf’s and lion’s howl
Raises from hell a human soul.
The wild deer, wand’ring here and there,
Keeps the human soul from care.
The lamb misus’d breeds public strife,
And yet forgives the butcher’s knife.
The bat that flits at close of eve
Has left the brain that won’t believe.
The owl that calls upon the night
Speaks the unbeliever’s fright.
He who shall hurt the little wren
Shall never be belov’d by men.
He who the ox to wrath has mov’d
Shall never be by woman lov’d.
The wanton boy that kills the fly
Shall feel the spider’s enmity.
He who torments the chafer’s sprite
Weaves a bower in endless night.
The caterpillar on the leaf
Repeats to thee thy mother’s grief.
Kill not the moth nor butterfly,
For the last judgment draweth nigh.
He who shall train the horse to war
Shall never pass the polar bar.
The beggar’s dog and widow’s cat,
Feed them and thou wilt grow fat.
The gnat that sings his summer’s song
Poison gets from slander’s tongue.
The poison of the snake and newt
Is the sweat of envy’s foot.
The poison of the honey bee
Is the artist’s jealousy.
The prince’s robes and beggar’s rags
Are toadstools on the miser’s bags.
A truth that’s told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent.
It is right it should be so;
Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know,
Thro’ the world we safely go.
Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine.
Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.
The babe is more than swaddling bands;
Throughout all these human lands
Tools were made, and born were hands,
Every farmer understands.
Every tear from every eye
Becomes a babe in eternity;
This is caught by females bright,
And return’d to its own delight.
The bleat, the bark, bellow, and roar,
Are waves that beat on heaven’s shore.
The babe that weeps the rod beneath
Writes revenge in realms of death.
The beggar’s rags, fluttering in air,
Does to rags the heavens tear.
The soldier, arm’d with sword and gun,
Palsied strikes the summer’s sun.
The poor man’s farthing is worth more
Than all the gold on Afric’s shore.
One mite wrung from the lab’rer’s hands
Shall buy and sell the miser’s lands;
Or, if protected from on high,
Does that whole nation sell and buy.
He who mocks the infant’s faith
Shall be mock’d in age and death.
He who shall teach the child to doubt
The rotting grave shall ne’er get out.
He who respects the infant’s faith
Triumphs over hell and death.
The child’s toys and the old man’s reasons
Are the fruits of the two seasons.
The questioner, who sits so sly,
Shall never know how to reply.
He who replies to words of doubt
Doth put the light of knowledge out.
The strongest poison ever known
Came from Caesar’s laurel crown.
Nought can deform the human race
Like to the armour’s iron brace.
When gold and gems adorn the plow,
To peaceful arts shall envy bow.
A riddle, or the cricket’s cry,
Is to doubt a fit reply.
The emmet’s inch and eagle’s mile
Make lame philosophy to smile.
He who doubts from what he sees
Will ne’er believe, do what you please.
If the sun and moon should doubt,
They’d immediately go out.
To be in a passion you good may do,
But no good if a passion is in you.
The whore and gambler, by the state
Licensed, build that nation’s fate.
The harlot’s cry from street to street
Shall weave old England’s winding-sheet.
The winner’s shout, the loser’s curse,
Dance before dead England’s hearse.
Every night and every morn
Some to misery are born,
Every morn and every night
Some are born to sweet delight.
Some are born to sweet delight,
Some are born to endless night.
We are led to believe a lie
When we see not thro’ the eye,
Which was born in a night to perish in a night,
When the soul slept in beams of light.
God appears, and God is light,
To those poor souls who dwell in night;
But does a human form display
To those who dwell in realms of day.

""Auguries of Innocence" is a poem from one of William Blake's notebooks now known as The Pickering Manuscript.
It is assumed to have been written in 1803, but was not published until 1863 in the companion volume to Alexander Gilchrist's biography of William Blake. 
The poem contains a series of paradoxes which speak of innocence juxtaposed with evil and corruption. 
The poem is 132 lines and has been published with and without breaks that divide the poem into stanzas. 
An augury is a sign or omen."

I had no idea that there was any more to this poem than -

To see a World in a Grain of Sand

And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,

Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand,

And Eternity in an hour. 

And I was surprised to see that the next piece was this -

A Robin Redbreast in a Cage

Puts all Heaven in a Rage.

A dove-house fill'd with Doves and Pigeons

Shudders Hell thro' all its regions. 

Bird-cadges and birds is another symbol that has plagued me throughout this blog.

The paperweight above is something that I bought at a store that was near the cinema that I saw the movie Eye of the Storm at. 

And the ceramic bird in the corner is a bird that I bought at a shop near the cinema that I saw the movie Limitless at. 

I wrote about the strangeness of the day I saw Eye of the Storm here,

How It Feels??? Synchronistic That's How! (Part 1)

and how the London Taxis made an appearance outside the cinema in Australia!?!

Interestingly, since reading The Holographic Universe and learning on Wiki that David Bohm died in the back of a

London taxi of a heart attack, this post just keeps getting weirder.

"David Bohm died of a heart failure in Hendon, London, on

27 October 1992, aged 74. 

He had been traveling in a London taxicab on that day; after not getting any response from the passenger in the back seat for a few seconds, the driver turned back and found that Bohm had collapsed.

David Bohm was widely considered one of the best quantum physicists of all time."

 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Bohm#Later_years

A London taxi outside the Regal Cinema, Brisbane?

To see the post on Limitless, click on this link,

"The Adjustment Bureau" or "Limitless"???

If you would like to buy any prints from the book, then you can visit these sites in the photo below -

Another sync I noticed when I visited Marina's blog today was a painting of a sunflower called Sunflower Glow.

http://web.me.com/cosmicangel/Available_Paintings_/Available_Paintings.html#6

I thought this was rather syncronistic as I had been using the envelope/mailer that came with the book (pictured above)  with the sunflower floating in the bowl of water as a book mark.
And the other night at the supermarket I had grabbed a packet of sunflower seeds to grow in my garden, because the last ones I planted didn't come up.
I was surprised to see them, because I had a look for them the fortnight before, but couldn't see any.
I actually thought twice about buying them, because of my memories of the last time when I planted the whole packet and not one flower came up. 
I ended up taking them though, as I thought that I should do more gardening, and these would brighten the place up ... if any ever came up that is;-)

Then this morning I read page 49 of Sandra's book,
"When an answer is given literally, there is only one road to walk down.
But when the the spirits communicate using metaphor, there are many possible levels of teaching and meaning.
I feel that the spirits are trying to inspire us to expand our perceptions of ourselves and our situations by offering guidance in this way.
In addition, metaphors and poetry weave together many layers, which teaches us how everything is interconnected.
Years ago I had a powerful experience in a journey that taught me the importance of metaphoric language.
I had journeyed  to my power animal and asked him what I needed in my life.
He told me I should garden more.
I thought the answer was a bit strange, because I was traveling a lot at the time and I also lived on land that was not very fertile.
But I spent a few months that summer in between my travels gardening when I could.
 At the end of summer, I suddenly realized that I had been mistaken to interpret his answer literally.
It finally dawned on me that he meant for me to look at how I was nurturing the garden of my life and body.
He was also asking me to consider how I was teaching and working with clients.
Was I planting seeds of love, hope and inspiration in my lectures and classes? 
Or was I planting seeds of fear? 
He was asking me to view all my words as seeds, and to consider what kinds of plants were growing out of my words.
The next time I journeyed to him, he said that he was wondering how long it would take me to understand the true meaning of his guidance.
On the other hand, he observed that my real-life gardening was good for me - so it was not a complete waste of time.
He was trying to show me that many people are filled with fear and despair, which underscores the importance of telling stories that inspire love and hopefulness."

I was thinking of the above song while reading Sandra's words.
And remembered I had Tears for Fears greatest hits somewhere in my CD shelves.

I was also looking for John Farnham's greatest hits, because it had the song Angel on it. 

 

I was surprised to find them all one on top of the other, plus a Shaman's Vision Journey CD I had forgotten about and also a CD by Robert James titled Secrets in the Sand. 

When I used to think of those famous lines by William Blake about, "the world  in a grain of sand", I would always think of Byron Bay, the lighthouse, and the beach and lately Robert's song Forgotten Beach, where he strolls along the beach playing his guitar to that catchy song, and sitting on the red sofa that I probably picked for whoever purchased it for the film set.

The clip below has the same song, but the pictures of Byron Bay will give people who have never seen it a more realistic idea of what it looks like ... remember Robert's clip is supposed to be of old memories, so the photography of Byron doesn't look as good ... which is the idea of the song anyway.

Forgotten Beach (Byron Bay)
(Robert James)

The sand was our bedroom in Byron Bay
And the water was a picture on the wall
There were swimmers and surfers and joyful play
Then just one moment there's no-one there at all
I will always remember that forgotten beach
Just one moment no memory, two strangers embrace
I will remember the forgotten beach
Two strangers, no memory
But everything remains from that day
Under the lighthouse we were lost
On the beach in the sand at Byron Bay
I remember
I will always remember the forgotten beach
Just one moment no memory, two strangers embrace
I will remember the forgotten beach
Well the sand was our bedroom in Byron Bay
And the water was a picture on the wall
There were swimmers and surfers and joyful play
Just one moment there's no-one there at all
Under the lighthouse we were lost
On the beach in the sand at Byron Bay
Oh darling, I remember
I will always remember the forgotten…
I will always remember the forgotten beach
Just one moment no memory, two strangers embrace
I will remember the forgotten…
Two strangers, no memory
Oh darling, everything remains…
Oh darling… two people, two strangers
Back in time, oh darling
Remember the forgotten beach
Talking about sand so much here, it's also a slight coincidence that Ingerman's first name is Sandra;-)

More about Sandra Ingerman's book in a soon to follow post, hopefully.