The Way No.1 - July 2019
The fierce wind carries soft whispers of truth
Alone, the sweeping silence fills the night air
With dreamy thoughts of fluid bodies
Eyes closed, full sight enabled—
Breathing pure air in the mountains
Walking back, empty thoughts—
Stirring stillness remains
Untouched
~Mike Sasaki 2019
Wednesday 10 July 2019
Wednesday 20 February 2019
An Unthinkable Agreement
An Unthinkable Agreement
The fog recedes to both sides as we walk through the last traces of the misty atmosphere along the crest of the sand mountain. The purple sky invites us to look into a glowing eternity of uncertainty.
I shiver as I pace along the soft, sliding peak of sand.
The night's cold is slowly regressing as the sun begins to show itself above the desert horizon.
Awake, I look out the window, the snow has covered the yard in a thick blanket of whiteness.
The sky too is filled with soft white crystals, packing the air with icey fluff.
Melting away all objects and life forms, nothing is left tangible.
The vacuum of emptiness swallows all things leaving nothing but awareness.
Awareness is, without object or subject, it is. No self to be aware of, nothing to be aware of, just aware of nothing, the one empty self.
The forms reappear in their magnificence. Shining, glowing, dancing, sparkling, shaking and spinning. Here we are, a part of the act, a moving, pulsing, energetic play of existence; instances of love, mystery, life and ecstasy. No artificial division, just one giant play with no audience.
Mike Sasaki
2019
Thank you for reading on Behind the Wood Forms blog. See the freestanding, abstract wood sculptures with metaphysical themes at: mikesasakiwoodforms.etsy.com
Tuesday 29 January 2019
Misleading Reality
Misleading Reality
The words, like a chain of links made of glass running across the horizon like tracks from a tank pressed into the dirt.
Beyond the words, behind the machines, the factories, the shopping malls—
The space between the notes of a song, between the trees in the forest—
The container of all opposites.
The story is constructed out of clay and presented in stop-motion animation.
Playing out on the screen of our mind, we are both the main character and the critic.
What is this condition we are in? How can it be real?
The main character and the critic at the same time?
It must be overlayed on top of reality.
See-thru fabric, semi-porous in nature—
What fills the spaces?
Thoughts and neurons in rapid fire—
Upheld by the juice of existence,
The mother battery of life,
The blank canvas before the first stroke of paint has been laid.
The door is open,
Through the gate of eternity,
I return to my motherland.
© Mike Sasaki 2019
Thank you for reading this post from Behind The Wood Forms.
See the sculptures at: mikesasakiwoodforms.etsy.com
The words, like a chain of links made of glass running across the horizon like tracks from a tank pressed into the dirt.
Beyond the words, behind the machines, the factories, the shopping malls—
The space between the notes of a song, between the trees in the forest—
The container of all opposites.
The story is constructed out of clay and presented in stop-motion animation.
Playing out on the screen of our mind, we are both the main character and the critic.
What is this condition we are in? How can it be real?
The main character and the critic at the same time?
It must be overlayed on top of reality.
See-thru fabric, semi-porous in nature—
What fills the spaces?
Thoughts and neurons in rapid fire—
Upheld by the juice of existence,
The mother battery of life,
The blank canvas before the first stroke of paint has been laid.
The door is open,
Through the gate of eternity,
I return to my motherland.
© Mike Sasaki 2019
Thank you for reading this post from Behind The Wood Forms.
See the sculptures at: mikesasakiwoodforms.etsy.com
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| Root of Time No. 3 - 2019 - Mike Sasaki |
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