|The Recumbent Vishnu and the Creation of Brahma from Guler, Himachal Pradesh, India|
The role of Vishnu as the existential dreamer, whose dreaming is the experience of creation gives the mythology of Vishnu profound meaning for artists and all creative thinkers. The striking thing that caught my eye about ancient Indian religious philosophy in relation to creative writing, is the way in which Joseph Campbell describes the role of Vishnu in leading the awe-inspiring traditions of ancient Indian yogic philosophy towards a recollection of the shattered mirror of thought and creative inspiration, into one yoked unity of enlightened perception, which is seen in its fullness as Vishnu eyes the dream-lotus of universal creation.
Read Joseph Campbell's brilliant article, "Hindu Wisdom"
Also, check out this arts book, interestingly eponymous with the Dream Author, called, "Secrets of Rusty Things" where an artist explores found art with mythological application to the creative dreaming of Vishnu's in-sight.
Lightning premonitions, deft déjà vu of tone, the amalgamated voice of anger enunciates towards a new acquaintance, a poet of Canadian life. And in that rage, the unearthed moans of my internal aching, the gorge of indulgent emotional farce, an awakened source, spiked with the thirst of a skinless napalm victim. My life pains for the strength to express such incendiary anger, a pure rage, undignified.
|Chemical Kali by Srimati lal|
So, within seconds, a brief passing, I apologize with sturdy feet. My breath is steady, and at once I am relieved from my internal night, the concave flexing of cavernous rock, a burden of upended implosive tension. The wilds burn with stolid elasticity and I am inflamed with a secondary respite, at seeing my name lit towards the ceiling, and reacting with confident force, eyeing my winnings; a recognition of literary achievement, in multiple categories, standing beside renowned academics and independent artists of creative literacy.
|Vishnu sahasranama manuscript by Anonymous|
I am bedecked with opulent outfitting, and walk to receive my medals with an ostentatious headdress and unnatural clothing. A blathering fake of heady fame, I steal through the tables clumsily and jeopardize the entire name, quickly hiding in the utter obscurity of another day.
_________A gourd filled with smoke speaks in a voice,
A mindless bowl
glasses grow cold in the unheated concrete glue,
a fixture of the dead past
a golden consumer begs with a throat full of tears
in front of speakers
throbbing with broken-hearted names
burning up in a heat of worldly instrumentation,
transcending this same-self curse
with a storied high
of nameless voice
at the fingertips of an artist healer
pursuing the groove of an epoch
stolen from the mind of silent law
in a world’s motionless yearning
in the dark
excerpt from "A Joke Downstairs"