© THE ARTIST'S NOTES ON HUMANS AND THE UNIVERSE
COSMIC MIND draft

A mind is blind and deaf until its inborn art, sound recording, and animation studios begin working in its private chamber. We start "drawing" and animating inner images before our first word is pronounced and our first step is made. We have to explore our nature's given primordial artistic abilities for the sake of our very life.  


A few Quotes from PART ONE


ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

I would like to express my deep gratitude to those individuals who mercilessly

humiliated me during my writing, never believed in my ideas, accomplishments,

my untraditional artist's research, jeered, or intentionally ignored my work and

blamed me for not "learning", "working" and "thinking" like normal people. I thank

those who unpleasantly distracted my life in many ways, often causing me illness and

depression. I have had no other way but to learn how to get over that experience,

and finish this book.


THE ARTIST'S NOTES ON HUMANS AND THE UNIVERSE
by VERA NOVA (literary name Melissa Henry)

What is the world without our sensual perceptions? WHAT ARE WE WITHOUT
OUR EYES, NOSES, EARS AND SKIN? Can we observe the world beyond our limited
minds? Can we exist at all without our minds?

"The Artist's Notes" is my desperate attempt to share some of the unique knowledge
that I was lucky to obtain while practicing
painting, and comparing
my artist's experience with many kinds of mental processing.  Whether we are dealing
with everyday mundane reality
, or with  basic mathematical thinking and logic, or
having dreams, our minds subconsciously follow the classical artist's rules in order to create visible
scenarios
of our realities. Every mind has a deep primordial artist's instinct of building a Composition a a Composition made of selected subjects, while constantly Comparing them, Focusing
on some of them pushing the rest of subjects on a background, and finally Framing
this composition, or in other words separating this composition from
the rest of our reality.

Every living mind is processing a quite fantastic number of
these compositions, and if compared with an actual somewhat static artist's painting,
these mental
compositions go through endless transformations.
Here is something crucial in our subconscious, deeply primordial creativity, that might
reveal for us the process of life itself.



PART ONE

ABOUT THE CLASSICAL ARTIST'S RULES, MATH AND OUR OLD HUMAN MIND

CHAPTER 1.

Lessons beyond schools, or 1+1=1

Those first sharp impressions of reality enchanted me, yet they also bewildered me

with endless questions that remain with me to this day. I did not know at the time

that my desperately questioning mind of a little artist was trying to explain nothing

less than the natural "mechanics" of our perceptions. There is nothing "mechanistic"

in nature of our perceptions, I just call this a "mechanism of perceptions" for

describing the coherence of the hidden works of our minds,  behind the visible stage

of our reality - the surface which we usually observe and analyze. 

"How come I can see, hear, smell and touch my reality, and how? How come that I

so 'know' that I am myself?" "How others can see or hear me?" "How would I know

that I can feel exactly what they feel?" "Why is that people use FLAT surfaces for

writing, calculating, photographing, painting, printing, and for movie, television and computer

screens?" "Why the images in my mind can not stay still, and are constantly

fluctuating?" 

I found that hidden nature's art studio of perceptions in my own mind long time ago

as a struggling young student, when I was trying to setup my first mathematical

scenario: 1+1=2. I have not realized yet that this primordial art studio of the mind

is to build my whole reality without which no image, thought or idea are possible.

Some years later I have had to face a crucial fact: having no clues about how

our minds really perceive we have no possibility to really evolve our old recycling

for thousands of years mentality, culture, sciences and ethics.

My earliest childhood impressions remain incomparable. When these memories

occasionally emerge in brilliant light from the past, I feel as though I am

awakening from the deep dull sleep that we call our 'daily routine'. Many of us

call this sleep 'reality'.

The questions that children ask, come from the perspective of independent

observers. While they are still outsiders, newcomers, they have not yet become

seriously involved in pretensions of our society and its scenarios, in attempting

to fit into their limited categories. Very young children are our best teachers,

before they become victims of our social habits of thinking and acting.  

As comical as those questions may seem to an adult, the essence of wonder itself

remains the most precious quality of our nature and very often this wonder can

take us to the most mysterious debts of our psychology.

Often narrowing its range and decreasing its points with age that natural wonder

leaves a mind in quite stiff condition when we get older. Sometimes we call this

stiffness a tradition, experience or even knowledge. As we grow up we hardly

distinguish those habits of thinking, from our real circumstances.

In a minute or two one will be able to discover a crucial mistake in exact sciences,

without getting into almost any specific knowledge about mathematics. That

mistake we put as a very foundation of mathematics that we use for millennia

missing the very elementary knowledge about sensual perceptions that many

of us can obtain in our early childhood.

The first lessons about how we put visible reality together, so we would be able

to know that our calculations and the use of our language and concepts are

not based on universal laws, are not available in schools. Therefore some little

students might feel that human knowledge grows somewhere on trees.

Well, I was in my first grade of the quite ordinary elementary school when my

elderly teacher compelled us to memorize that 1+1=2, quite a common in our

everyday life calculation. That created a conflict in my child's mind. If we take

the very same, imaginatively perfect 1, twice, it remains

absolutely the same 1. Therefore 1+1=1, the same unchanged 1.

If I have to put things in a group, sum, composition, those "1s" must be somehow

different, or my sight would not be able to notice any difference between them

and I will see only one "1". (I noticed that it was easier for many children to

calculate different objects. An apple, a cat, a dog, and a pencil - all in one "box", making

a group  of "4". It was easier for them to calculate "items" into one numeric number

when the items were different in shapes and colors. The "same"

monotonous 1s, or units took longer to do the same simple procedure. I have

found the answers later on, while practicing art painting and discovering

the most fundamental laws in perceiving - the law of comparison).

I was sitting in my class absolutely bewildered. My little body was trembling as I

rose, daring to ask my teacher a very silly question in front of my classmates:

"Can a 1 be a little bigger or smaller that the other 1s? Or are those 1s absolutely

the same units?" "Certainly the same. This is math!

Look, one apple plus another apple will be two apples. We deal with numbers here!"

"I just do not understand how things can be turned into numbers," I mumbled. My

classmates were at first quiet and then started giggling. However I knew that I

was not the only child in the world bewildered by a "perfect mathematical logic".

I thought: "so many people are so serious about arithmetic and mathematics, they

must know better what they do, or maybe they just have an extraordinary

imagination, but I have not. Perhaps my teacher wants me to pretend that in some

wonder world of math the very same identical units could really exist, survive as

the same units next to each other, absolutely fixed and unchanged. In that wonder

world they can be devoured by monsters like 2, 3, 4, 5 and so on, in such a way

that they can appear again, pop up back to their old places, perfectly unchanged".

Natural science did not seem to me natural. In my child's experience in dealing

with reality things changed mercilessly, never staying fixed or absolutely the same.

However, people call them the same names, like the sun, a house, a face,

a thought, even when they drastically change their colors, sizes, shapes,

movements. How do I and they recognize those subjects as "the same" things?

I was still bewildered, and then gladly accepted the great Greek Heraclitus'

conclusion: "One cannot step into the same river twice".

I was pretty much convinced that not only the river but my own self could not be

exactly the same even for a moment. My feelings, thoughts and whims were

constantly slightly, or even drastically changed.

Mathematics is a play where things and numbers have artificially fixed qualities.

Things and numbers in there are fixed in every position and combination. Numbers

can present the same labels imaginatively glued on different things, and they can

also turn

different things into just labels, nothing else. Things in wonder mathematics can

very conveniently stay unchanged while one thinks about what to do with them. Why? How can I apply it to my reality?

If I take one apple once, and it will be 1 time. If I take it twice, it will be 2 times.

But what is 2 times then? Are they ideal repetitions? In that case no matter how

many times ideals will be ideally repeated neither values nor situations will be

changed. How would repetitions work in reality?

On a little break after that class I made my first scientific experiment. I wanted to

see if I could calculate motions. I went downstairs to the back entrance door, when

no one was around. I opened a very heavy door with great effort and let it shut

itself. I tried to repeat this procedure a few times in the same way. The door

squeakily shut every time, but never in exactly the same way. I imagined that

that huge door after many movements, finally had to fall apart. That door like any

human machine could only make movements in similar ways. But can even a very special machine make absolutely exact movements?

Is there any clock for instance, that ticks so perfectly that it does not need to be

rewinded?









From the Poem
ON BLESSED BLINDNESS
by Melissa Henry

......... but if blindness disappeared and everyone could see
Every mind's Kingdom,
Feel every feeling and know every thought as one,
Misunderstandings could melt down forever.
Seeds of doubts and blame about the others could stop growing.
No fights, no wars, intrigues or hate, no players or pretending.
Alas, no illusions of beauty, seductive unknowns and guesses.
No wonder and No wisdom -
- all truths are clear for each mind and for all.
No thrill to admire, no one to thank,
No need to explain, to talk, to act, to scream.

No artist to paint.
No poet to sing.

If my humanly peculiar senses cannot give me the world
God bless my blindness, the soil for my garden of dreams.
How little I can see with my eyes!
How much I can see and create without them!
God bless my lonely mind in its sacred solitude, and my only way
To know your world,
By building my own.

===================================================

THE IS NO TIME WITHOUT A MIND
Clocks are churches to venerate Time.
They are built for minds bewitched by the illusion of its power.
Humans hurry their existence, they know more about hours and minutes
than what they do,
facing New Years as new world to count.
Time measures stars to fit them in space of minds.
Clocks tick away the rest and labor, love and hatred, horror and joy in
the same way because they come and go as the same units.
They give the same minutes to be born and die.

It was no time before I opened my eyes to see the world.
My heart started my clock and my time began
My days are as long as I move.
Thoughts are years.
Minutes of hate are shorter than seconds.
Minutes of love and thanks longer than my existence.

I cannot be late for myself -- I am always on time.
My mind is the only time machine which takes me everywhere ignoring millions of years.
I could see my life as one day but I need centuries to understand a minute.
When my heart stops my time no one will be there to rewind it.

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