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  • Until Love Becomes My Name (#12)
    2024/11/04
    The Song From Today's Episode: Until Love Becomes My NameBooks For ArtistsMy Public Diary The road.Sometimes, other people hear your voice before you do.Sometimes, other people see a light you don't.And they tell you it shines from you.And you don't believe them; how could you?For you don't see that light.But you've been looking.But you've been looking in the wrong places.Treading carefully along a path well-lit.But no path worth walking is well-lit.No path well-lit is worth walking.The path that's for you is pitch-black.And by walking it, you disappear.Your road wants you naked.By walking it, you unclothe.And by getting to know the road, you are getting to know yourself.And when the road knows you, and you don't know the road.Jump.Others have jumped before you.And with every step, you are a little less you and a little more road.And there will come a step when there is one last foot you and one fresh foot road.And when you take that final step, you become the road. Your real work is the death of you.A birth cloaked as death.It’s sweet to die alive. That’s three letters we sing in one song.But from your lips this time.God Mastery And GodHard work is required to gain the skills. A master then unlearns everything to become a child again. He learns to surrender to the divine. He learns to be life; not force it but to let it unfold through him. He learns to trust in life and knows he’s a mere tool of creation. He obeys and respects the art that comes through. He sees the brilliance of the art and recognizes that he is a mere fool and the work is untouched by him; hence the art captures divinity he could never create alone. Great effort turns to non-effort for the master who has walked the long road that ends in God. He dissolves into his work and smiles when the world cherishes his art. It is not his art, it's the world’s. He quietly communes and serves. He became an artist by his own hands; then at the edge of mastery, he let go and let God do the rest. a geniusLet's the divine do it alltakes all the creditknow he's a foolThe more one tries the less genius he isThe more one surrenders the more intelligent one becomesLife is intelligencegeniuses don't stand in the way of life You can’t police the divine like you police yourselfI never know howThe song writes itselfI never know howThe book writes itselfI sit by myself And I feel I ought to writeI get up and grab my guitarAnd the most beautiful little piece comes my way Through my hands Untouched DivinePureEffort is not a word I’d useFloating perhapsStepping asideSurrenderingBathing in bliss The work works aloneAnd in that divine momentI feel I am the workA windowI obey There is no need to collect or consume anything. It's all within the soul. Unbecome. Melt all you collected. Be who you are. Create with your soul and delight the world. All is within. You came complete. Just see that, be that, and express that. It's the most natural, and effortless soul expression that you are longing for. Spontaneous unfoldment of who you are for your brothers and sisters. It’s all within. Create in meditation, bask in God, and share by direct experience. What you create emanates the state you are in when you create the work. Share God in all you do. Measure your work not by effort and time spent but by the emanation and frequencies that you delight the world with. Take care of yourself and enjoy the freedom and time you have. Watch with your own two eyes what two hands and God can create together. SongsBooksArticlesLila Tace
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    10 分
  • What Makes Art Beautiful?
    2024/10/28
    The Song From Today's Episode: Our Time Has Come What makes art beautiful?Living, emanating art holds captured beauty. The artist creating in a state of beauty, capturesbeauty. The artist in torment, captures torment. The artist dictates the manifestation of the art.Torment is not art. Art is beauty. The source of the art’s beauty is the artist. What makes an artist beautiful?Living souls are beauty, and emanate beauty. In a state of free flow of self-expression, in thepresent moment without the burdensome past, the artist emanates natural beauty. With a drinkor two, in pleasant company, on a romantic date falling in love—the artist is beautiful. In agony,the artist seems small and fragile. On a sunny day when all goes well the artist shines.Natural beauty is a fragrance of the soul. The beauty of the physical body without emanation ofbeauty is half the charm. Charm is authentic self-expression in a natural free flow. Theaccumulated past obstructs free expression. Why does the past obstruct the artist’s natural, living, emanating expression of self(beauty)?I am my soul, free and divine. But life taught me otherwise. Life taught me to be stiff and careful,boxed in and robotic. Natural expression is dimmed by past experiences held dearly. Payingattention, entertaining, and nurturing past patterns keeps them engaged and alive. Surrenderingpatterns to God melts them in love. Awareness is seeing patterns unfold and gently telling them‘You are not inherent in my soul; I am looking at you; I held you dearly but now I give you toGod’. In time the patterns fall away. How does an artist cultivate awareness to surrender all that is not beauty?The soul is inherently beautiful. The soul is inherently aware of itself. The soul is awareness.The soul is witnessing unfoldment. The soul is witnessing the world. A slight change of focusinwardly is all that is required. From that meditative stance, patterns are seen, recognized, andgently released. The release is accompanied by relaxation and peace. How does a corrupt artist create beautiful art?While in a state of corruption, bothered by the past, restricted in natural self-expression: throughmeditation, and in states of flow or through alcohol and drugs, the artist communes and makesart. In states of happiness and relaxation, the artist creates freely. When patterns of restrictionarise the artist surrenders them and with newly gained freedom creates art more beautiful thanever before. The only lasting creative flame comes from releasing patterns of restriction ofself-expression. Authentic art is beautiful art. The corrupt artist may also purge the patterns by creating art upon traumatic patterns andcapturing the release of that pattern in the art. Such art holds resolutions and hence is beautiful,deeply emotional, and freeing to the receiver of the art going through similar energeticunfoldment in their life. Drugs and alcohol are but a shadow of divine creation and are no lasting solution to greaterself-expression. Learn to witness, observe, and gently release restrictions of self-expression.Often traumatic events from childhood become deep-rooted patterns that when released allowthe artist to express naturally. The only way out is in. Honey is made from within. The world is a reflection of the internal stateof the artist. The art is a reflection of the artist's inner state of being. What a wonderful learningtool! Solid, undeniable captured pieces of self, suspended in time to witness the divine processof dissolution into art. Dissolve your patterns into the light and create greater and greater art.Delight the world with your art. Free yourself to create beauty. Show your true authentic self,uncover it by creating art, and witness the progress. Be selfless. Selflessness is beauty itself. The most beautiful works of art are not made through corrupt hands. Beauty is a selflessexpression of the soul through art for the delight of the world. The world looking at itself. Adivine artifact of collapsing individuality into God. The spiritual path of art is the artist dissolving through art into God. SongsBooksArticlesLila Tace
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    9 分
  • The Young Artist Is Fragile
    2024/10/21

    The Song From Today's Episode: Kiss My Lips Red With Love

    The young artist is fragile in many ways. Making himself available to real creation, he leaves himself vulnerable. Vulnerable to judgment, doubtful, and susceptible to feedback or lack thereof. The young artist’s journey is that of fighting with himself for himself. His character is marked by and built through struggles, hurdles, and pains to overcome. The young artist finds himself in many trials, mostly of the making of his mind. Who is he to be, the artist his heart claims to be? Who is he to lead and stand for something? Who is he to help and nurture with his art and words and taste and courage?

    Trials by fire are many for the young artist. His old ways are at odds and in stark contrast with his emerging self. He transforms into an artist by facing each pain (often reluctantly after much suffering). Being an artist does not come easy or free of charge. It is one of the most challenging journeys of all. It is the journey of the soul. From darkness to light, if you will. Hardships are many, and almost in secret, the young artist’s ego fights until it relinquishes its selfish stance, turning an artist into an angel. Long, hard looks in the mirror. Moving in the dark, with only God to lead. Intuitions get sharpened with each failed or successful adventure. It is all the same: the lesson is the point.

    Selfish artists create ugly work, full of themselves, wanting money and fame from the art, not creating for others but for themselves. Selfless artists, pure of heart, create work that shines and holds light, like the sun — shining on its own. Not for its own sake but to bring life to the world. Nourishing others but being full all the same. Not of need to give, but their very being is a ray of giving of the highest order. But angels have once all been men. The journey then is from selfish to selfless — from men to angels.

    You and I are angles. But angels in the making. We have many hurdles to overcome with ourselves. Like yesterday when you did not share your work or deleted your last article. Or when you wrote a song only to put it in the drawer accompanying all your other songs, collecting dust. The light is dim and barely visible to the young artist, and ignorantly, he still follows it. He knows it’s his only way, his only choice — not a choice, maybe — but his destiny.

    The young artist has something in him that wants to bloom, and he obeys. He has no choice in what wants to bloom — he lets it. Often, he resists the work that wants to come through, and he is scared to share it. It is so different, so peculiar, so odd, so strange. He knows not what to do with it. The obvious answer is to share it. That work is clearly not meant for himself alone. Art is only art when shared. That peculiar-strange kind of art always has funny ways to find itself in the right hands at the right time.

    So then, I write these lines to conclude that I am a clueless artist, very young at heart with a long journey ahead, but willing and able. And I hope you join me in our shared ignorance.

    Art is only art when shared.

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    Lila Tace

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    7 分
  • The Three Acts Of Every Artist's Journey
    2024/10/14
    The Song From Today's Episode: Straw Man, Sail To The MoonThere are 3 acts of every artist’s journey.Act 1: AsleepAct 2: AwakeningAct 3: AwakenedAct 1:You create work as a selfish artist at home. You think your work is exceptional and are owed money and fame. You may hoard your work in your drawer or under your bed. You are bitter that other artists are famous, but you are not. You are just as good as them but poor and unhappy.Your work is about you and your struggle to wake up. You create work about your heartbreaks, bad parents, and the unfairness of life and mimic songs of love and devotion. And you dare to call that art.*Eventually, you have enough and want to collect what is owed. You realize that no one will discover and pick you. You know that no one will come and make you rich and famous. Now, you take matters into your own hands. You use social media to show yourself and your work. You follow the rules to get the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. But no one wants your selfish work. It is ugly.So now you try and force that ugly work onto people, perhaps with ads and shouting, pretty makeup, dancing, screaming, and showing your beautiful life in pictures and videos. ‘Look at me!’ you say. But they look away.You realize that something does not rhyme. You spent your entire childhood chasing a dream, and it eludes you. You put in the 10,000 hours, for God’s sake! Where is your price? So, you start to contemplate your approach. Who is your work for? Who are you delighting? You think perhaps you are selfish. And you are.You consume content about online business, marketing, and entrepreneurship. You explore what artists have done that ‘made it.’ You get into self-development and perhaps meditation. You feel that this approach lightens the grips of selfishness, and you relax into your work. Your work starts to change.You learn that commerce is about solving problems. You understand that to solve your issue of acquiring money and fame, you need to get money and attention from someone. You know that for someone to give you money, you must provide them value. You understand that for someone to pay attention to you, you must help them get what they want. Your work starts to become about others and not about yourself.You struggle to monetize your art as it is not made for such commerce. Art is gift-giving, and your awakening artist’s heart knows that. So you explore creating products and services around your art to make money so you finally have time to make art. Perhaps you start teaching or coaching, create courses and communities, and maybe make money.You know this cannot be it. This is not what you signed up for. You signed up for art, artistry, and the life of an artist. Yet you make barely any art. Perhaps you make barely any money. Maybe you are lost in money making. Either way, you do need money. Keep your business alive for now. Keep your part-time job even if it is unbearable.The only way out of your dilemma is to enter Act 2.*Express any topic! The intention behind the work is what matters. The state you create works in matters. Topics are dances of creativity. Sex and joy are as sacred as god and love.Act 2:A life of service and gift-giving awaits you, which is quite joyous. It is what artists do, and you are an artist.You pick a group of people and delight them with your art. You are specific! You decide to devote your life to them through art. This is scary as you are now exposing yourself to that group, and they respond. You get feedback, and that hurts. Perhaps your work is not as good as you thought it was.You take all your might and keep making and sharing your work because that is what you do now. You often feel so much pain that you repeatedly run back to Act 1 until you eventually stop running. You use feedback from your people and ignore all other opinions. You simply serve and want to delight them with what you create selflessly. It is not about you anymore; it is about them. They start to appreciate you for it.Your work now becomes your gift. It becomes good enough for your fans to love and share it. Positive feedback and word of mouth kick in slowly. This is not the overnight success you dream of, but you are delighted and happy serving your fans. This is different from the breakthrough success, dollar signs, or amount of attention you wanted; for some reason, you are content. You keep serving your fans.Perhaps you get the reward of money with your art, but that is not why you do the work. You do it for the sake of doing it. Perhaps you build a selfless business around your craft out of joy. You overflow, so you give of yourself, perhaps as a product or service. Maybe you just share, and people want to give back to you. You can choose to monetize your craft. That is up to you.Sneakily, you mature into Act 3.Act 3:You lost yourself in your work, and that is good. You are no more when you create your work. You flow with life, and the wind is in your back. You are ...
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    12 分
  • My Soul's Shoes
    2024/09/24

    My Soul's Shoes:

    My Soul's Shoes, my little heart

    T' was a lonely road; I've arrived

    A door with my name

    The unknown, one step to take

    Goodbye tongue, goodbye eyes

    I am blind; you are light

    No more rules, no more form

    The pavement's holding me; the pavement's gone

    I bridge poetry and song

    My bridge to build, my weight to hold

    My Soul's Shoes, my little heart

    From death to life, colored bright

    My Soul's Shoes step into the night

    T' was a lonely road

    Songs

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    Lila Tace

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    16 分
  • A Life With You On A Bed
    2024/09/14

    A Life With You On A Bed:

    A life on a bed with you

    An opportune time for my rusty heart to heal in your arms

    Am I on your mind?

    Cause you occupy my every fiber of soul

    Call out for me; will you, beautiful?

    Sojourn with me on a bed

    Heal my soul with your touch

    And I’m yours for as long as you like

    A song with your harmonies

    Live-to-tape on an afternoon

    A life on a bed with you

    I’m a dreamer; may I dream of you?

    Sojourn with me on a bed

    Heal my soul with your love

    And I’m yours for as long as you're mine

    A life with you on a bed

    A life with you on a bed

    A life with you on a bed

    Songs

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    Lila Tace

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    10 分
  • I'll End In My Heart
    2024/09/04
    • my struggles & values
    • I. Private Art: comfortable growth at own pace
      II. Public Art: compressed, pressured growth; leaps if not abandoned; facing pain in public
      III. Mastery: establishing one's voice through one's chain of art (portfolio) = carving one's place in art
    • A box is a beautiful frame until it becomes my prison. Mastery requires demolition, undoing, and liberation. Masters fly like birds, and so I, too, must let go and fly.

    I'll End In My Heart:

    I’m a back-to-earth kind of folk

    Hitting the road with my songs

    Zen walking, the music’s talking

    I’m budding wonderful nonsense

    Keep me afloat; carry both hands

    Enter the mouth of a cave

    No sigh to relieve, steely purpose

    From solitude to service


    I’m Zen walking; God’s talking to me

    Take my hand, lead the way

    No more rope; I am breaking apart

    I’ll end in my heart

    Take my life, lead the way

    I’m no more; I am breaking apart

    I’ll end in my heart


    I’m a back-to-earth kind of folk

    Hitting the road with my songs

    Zen walking, the music’s talking

    I’m budding wonderful nonsense

    Keep me afloat; carry both hands

    Enter the mouth of a cave

    No sigh to relieve, steely purpose

    From solitude to service


    I’m Zen walking; God’s talking to me

    Take my hand, lead the way

    No more rope; I am breaking apart

    I’ll end in my heart

    Take my life, lead the way

    I’m no more; I am breaking apart

    I’ll end in my heart

    I’m Zen walking; God’s talking to me

    Songs

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    Lila Tace

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    16 分
  • They'd Call Me 'Artist' In America
    2024/08/30
    • Creation plays by its own drum, balancing the scales. I am but a speck on my isolated road. There’s the world’s heartbeat, but mine beats differently. I am selfish; is that where I go wrong?
      Art restores my connection. Art reminds me to be humble. Art is my gift of union. When there is art, there is but one collective being. And I am it. And I am nothing. When I swim in art, I drown, and I am the water and its waves.
      Artist = Instrument Of Creation
      Art = Window To God
    • Life shows me what I need to see, gives me what I need to have, takes what I need to let go.
    • The only intelligent way to live is to surrender because how can I — a minute drop of creation — see the bigger picture?
      The greater good is the only good.

    They'd Call Me 'Artist' In America:

    Panic this, panic that.

    Just an everyday Wednesday.

    Connect the dots, looking back.

    Pity me, Wednesday.

    Waxing philosophic, someday iconic, an enigma - I am, I am, I am.

    Poetic pursuits, idiot of creation, tied up like glue - I am, I am.

    A highway, gateway, door to a nation that nobody knows - I am, I am.

    Humble servant, giant fool, tortured soul.

    They’d Call Me ‘Artist’ In America.

    Panic this, panic that.

    Just an everyday Wednesday.

    When it works, it really works.

    When it doesn’t, it doesn’t - stay in the game!

    Waxing philosophic, someday iconic, an enigma - I am, I am, I am.

    Poetic pursuits, idiot of creation, tied up like glue - I am, I am.

    A highway, gateway, door to a nation that nobody knows - I am, I am.

    Humble servant, giant fool, tortured soul.

    They’d Call Me ‘Artist’ In America.

    Songs

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    Articles

    Lila Tace

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    8 分