I sat. There is a moment in seated meditation when your consciousness will suddenly shift, normally around 12-15 minutes in. If you're aware, the shift is noticeable - as significant a shift as if you were to instantly be drunk or otherwise intoxicated.

I had a vision. My hands were covered in colours, like the coloured beads used by the Wixarika and other cultures through the Americas to make artworks. Sky blue, ocean blue, cloud white, and sunset oranges. Occasionally, the colours seemed to wash or cycle over the beads, like a wave through water. I looked up and I saw him, and in a strange way, a roundabout way or a direct literal way, he was me, like looking into a mirror. He was an anthopomorphic reptile, his face again covered with these bead-like colours. Behind the great lizard was a backdrop of stars, some of them large, close and bright.

This unpolished poem floated gently and slowly into my head:

In the middle of the night,
I started to see who I truly am.
Colourman, Galaxyman, Loveman.

Colourful mural in a shopping centre on the Gold Coast

Feynman's absurd tenure

Physicist Dick Feynman started work at Cornell University. As a young professor with a big reputation, having worked on the atom bomb at Los Alamos, receiving offers from Princeton and the Institute of Advanced Study, he felt a lot of pressure. Feynman writes in "Surely You're Joking Mr. Feynman":

... by some strange miracle-perhaps he overheard me talking about it, or maybe he just understood me--Bob Wilson, who was head of the laboratory there at Cornell, called me in to see him. He said, in a serious tone, "Feynman, you're teaching your classes well; you're doing a good job, and we're very satisfied. Any other expectations we might have are a matter of luck. When we hire a professor, we're taking all the risks. If it comes out good, all right. If it doesn't, too bad. But you shouldn't worry about what you're doing or not doing." ...

Then I had another thought: Physics disgusts me a little bit now, but I used to enjoy doing physics. Why did I enjoy it? I used to play with it. I used to do whatever I felt like doing--it didn't have to do with whether it was important for the development of nuclear physics, but whether it was interesting and amusing for me to play with. When I was in high school, I'd see water running out of a faucet growing narrower, and wonder if I could figure out what determines that curve. I found it was rather easy to do. I didn't have to do it; it wasn't important for the future of science; somebody else had already done it. That didn't make any difference: I'd invent things and play with things for my own entertainment.

Play comes first.

Don't waste what you can't waste

Casey Neistat received a large amount of money from Nike, probably in the $10,000s, and was told to do with it whatever he liked. He called up one of his best friends and said there's something he wanted to do for a long time, book a flight to whatever country popped up, random city to random city until the money ran out. It took them 10 days. They produced a film from all the footage, with the intro text saying what they'd done. He asked Nike if they didn't mind him telling everyone how he'd spent their money. He probably felt that he'd got one over on them somehow. They said no, they didn't mind, that's exactly why they'd contracted him, they knew he'd do something crazy with the money, and he did.

The message of Colourman

Colourman travelled across galaxies without any specific goal. He didn't know exactly where he was going, nor what he'd do when he got there. Colourman is a sort of cosmic playboy, a cosmic painter. When he arrived, he knew there was no success or failure, only Colour. It never mattered what he painted, only that he painted, fully, with commitment, purpose, attention and intention, care-free focused expression.

When someone looks out across a canyon, sees the rocks and valleys, steep drops and plateaux, nobody ever says "God made a mistake here," or "Colourman is falling off." Even though these scenes don't comply with our human ideas of order or framing, we recognise the beauty. Ask Colourman if he thought Earth was his finest work, and he'll tell you, there is no fine work, no bad work, only life's work - lifework - only Colour.

Cape Byron, NSW

You might think that you're cheating life, wasting it. That's impossible. You came here to play, to paint. There are no winners or losers, only Colour. So go ahead and paint.

Thank you, Colourman.

Conclusion

Colourman, wonderman, understand -
I travelled space to place my colours there.
Take my paint, spray where you can -
Loveman, Galaxyman, Colourman.

Newtown graffiti, the Rainbow Serpent - Image credit

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About me

My name is Kurt Robinson. I grew up in Australia, and for now, the world is my home. I write interesting things about voluntaryism, futurism, science fiction, travelling the world, and psychedelics. Remember to press follow so you can stay up to date with all the cool shit I post, and follow our podcast where we talk about crazy ideas for open-minded people, here: @paradise-paradox, like The Paradise Paradox on Facebook here, and subscribe to The Paradise Paradox on YouTube, and on iTunes.

In the next few months I'll be launching a new project focused on cryptocurrency and personal finance. Follow Cryptonomics on Steemit here @cryptonomics1, and check out the website Cryptonomics - principles of cryptocurrency and investing.