Tribute to Meera, part 3

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After a couple of hours, the music eased, lights were slowly dimed up and Meera gently brought us back.

We were all dumbfounded at the sight that met our eyes; those large pieces of paper now all looked like greyish chocolate and the room was a complete mess.

Meera ordered us all to go back to our painting and stand in front of it. Finding one’s own painting in this was quite a challenge but somehow everyone made a move.

I was still out of it from what had just happened in this session and was stumbling around trying to figure out where my painting could be, and quite frankly I had little clue what it did look like.

I was not alone in this case and a few other friends were also without their painting; Meera meanwhile collected the unclaimed papers.

I still remember that moment, the space, the energy, Meera standing in the middle of the room, and about seventy people obviously shaken and out of their minds.

“Who painted this?” Meera asked, starring into one of the paper that was yet without owner.

She seemed to have forgotten everything else and was completely absorbed in this horrible grey mess. “Who painted this?” she continued… “Who?”

She stopped the music, turned the lights to the max and called us all around. I had no idea what she was doing and why she suddenly seemed so frantic. She was staring at this painting, ignoring everything else and kept repeating “Who painted this?”

I was still looking for my paper, and I came closer to the one she pointed to. To me they all looked the same. Litres of black and white acrylics had been poured in all possible ways on all those papers, and really, I was unable to see any value or beauty anywhere here.

After a few moments I figured out that yes this was mine. “Me, I painted it”.

She looked at me, looked again at the paper lying on the floor in front of her, and nodded her head in her very unique way. There was a long silence in the room as everyone gathered around starring at this mysterious painting. I looked at it, looked back at Meera; I was completely blank, puzzled, and I had no idea what was going on and what she possibly could see in this. After such a wild high energy session, this silence was such an unsettling contrast. Meera would keep the suspense and the energy in the group moved inwards. What a magical moment! What a divine spontaneous happening was unfolding in front of us!

Meera was obviously startled by what she had just seen. I certainly had no idea what it possibly could be and why it seemed such a big deal, and looking around at my friends I suspected that no one really had more clues than I did.

She finally said in a grave voice “Nirav, you are a born painter! “

I was in shock.

We had been in that underground chamber the whole afternoon and it was certainly high time to get some fresh air, clean up the mess and get ready for the evening meditation in Osho’s Buddha Hall; but instead, Meera gave us a five minutes break before spending the next hour explaining why that painting was so special. I had no idea what she was talking about, and I felt more and more uneasy being put on the spot like that. I guess that some of my advanced painter friends present could follow and be touched by what she shared. I didn’t.

When we finally came out of the chamber the sun had set long ago, and the full moon was shining bright.

( part 4 )

 

Tribute for Meera, part 2

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I didn’t know that then, but Meera had just gotten hold of me and was not about to let go. She would only let go years later, tears running, when I would push her so hard that she had no more choice.

Primal painting? I had done so much primal therapy work during the last few years, and I loved the intensity of it.  Primal Painting sounded deep and dark, and I suddenly found myself excited.

Meera’s creativity caravan started, and this year I joined her staff of a dozen people. It was a big group with at least sixty participants, and as a translator I was participating for free but was also helping the crew. Helping with Meera was intense; we were fully involved in the process and on top of it we were taking care of the whole set up and cleaning, mixing colours, preparing brushes and paper… It was an incredible happening that would last for almost three months.

The Swiss friend I was translating for was rather good in English and my job was easy. I joined this unbelievable caravan and started to paint and play with colours and energies. It was fun and intense and I enjoyed what Meera was offering; but still, I clearly had this feeling that I was wasting my time and that painting was not my thing.

Halfway through this first part Meera brought us all to a dark and soundproof room deep underneath the commune; there we would explore our darkness. We got given a very large piece of paper each, big brushes and 2 buckets of acrylic paints, one black and one white. Music was bumping loud and Meera was guiding us to connect with those hidden places inside. We danced, we moved and we played with those large quantities of black and white acrylics. We were encouraged to dive into our darkest corners and express with movement and paints. It was one of the wildest and most intense session I ever experienced anywhere, and except from a few candles burning in the room we were practically painting in the dark with mostly black paints.

( part 3 …)