Man In Painting Is Not Seeing The World

It is always difficult to see the world as it is."Seeing the world" demands techniques.A name is a technique.Without using words can we ever see the world?Without understanding concepts can we ever watch the world?It is becoming more and more difficult.Understanding something is often like playing with the dice.Who can predict what our brain brings next?But we are happy with that "feeling"called "understanding".Is "understanding something" a sort of feeling?Is it like "satisfaction"?
There is always great joy in watching things without any desire to know.But it is impossible to do that with a mind which is old and full of techniques.Playing with words is easy.But making them watch the world is not easy.Writing is always a "thing of past".Is there anything called "present tense"?We always write about things which are already gone.Writing is another technique to add spice to "that convincing story" called "me".Communication starts with the learning of techniques of story telling.Writing is the most comfortable way of re-arranging that story of "me"Me, as they say is always a "story i found to tell others"
It is always easy to tell stories and make non-sense poems but very very difficult to "see the world"
Man In Painting is not seeing the world....

... am posting this without any editing without looking back without re reading ..
loving you all.....

Because I am not living I cannot teach anybody anything.

Why should a painting reveal itself through words?A painting should talk to the world through sketches, strokes and colours.Why should it carve words?May be, Man In Painting is an exception.He might have got this unique gift of expressing his feelings through words rather than through colours.A painting is trapped inside the two dimensions of space.May be we can add one more dimension and call it a three dimensional picture.But for the painting both are the same.The main concern of a painting is time, rather than space . Each day Man In Painting sees hundreds of people , trapped either in space or time.All of them are, in one or other way, Men/Women In Paintings.One day they might also realise the paintings in which they all are living .Man In Painting have almost forgotten about the painting in which he is living.Is it so important?Or is the moving world out side more important?Each day is a 24 hour movie.60 moving frames in a minute.Have you ever thought that all the paintings watch this world as non-stop entertaining movies ?That is the truth.All the meditating trees around you,painted to the lower end of the vast blue sky is watching this moving world silently.They are having more fun than the moving world who had to stop and watch things.Man In Painting want to tell the whole world about what he see in this world without labels and divisions.Often people come in front of me , watch closely and comment according to their education.So each day, i study something about me from them.And that is a very good thing to learn.Because i am not living, i cannot teach anybody anything.That is the greatest virtue every painting has got.Being a non teacher is important.Man In Painting quickly realises this and remains silent.That is why all his talks ends suddenly without conclusions.He understands that his duty is to watch,watch and watch till the painting fades and cannot be seen anymore.

Things without names....

That big tree full of golden yellow flowers in front of the old house near the right bent of the road is yet to be ‘known’. It is better not to become a ‘known’ thing. Is ‘knowing’ just process of associating with some name? Let the tree remain free from all names. A name is often like a cage. Like the frame of a painting it ends all the other possibilities that big tree have got. MIP try to see that ‘ fascinating beauty’ seen in distance, in front of the old house near the right bent of the road without the help of any name.

Early birds catch nothing

It might be the last hours of night for us humans, but for birds it is the starting of a day. The clattering voices tell me that they are all waking up. Tomorrow, there is some meeting in this hall. People were working here till late night. Some of them are still working. The lights are still on. I am waiting for the sound of milkman’s cycle bell. There is a house near that old big tree. When the milkman comes and rings the bell a lady with sleepy eyes will open the door. After collecting milk, she will wait there for a second or two, as if to let the remnants of yesterday’s dreams flutter off her eyes. Then she will close the door. Light will come out of a single window from that house. That window will remain open till late night. That is the kitchen window. Each morning through that window I see her. How can somebody work like that? Like Man in Painting, she also is trapped. Trapped in an image she herself had painted. (Or by other genius craftsmen?). Then the newspaper boy will come and boomerang the dispatch. The only art he might learn in his whole life…
(Man In Painting stops here, because he is getting emotional. He should obey the ‘Rule of the Frame’)
Man In Painting waits for all the early birds to wake him up to the present and save him from the past and future