German American physicist Albert Einstein was born this day in 1879.

In his book, Einstein, Picasso, Arthur I. Miller writes:

“The corpus of Einstein’s fourth paper entitled ‘On the Electrodynamics of Moving Bodies,’ the so-called relativity paper, is at first glance no different from other scientific papers of that era.

“Yet first glance deceives: It was daring in both style and content. Today no leading physics journal would publish it because of its complete lack of citations to the literature.”

If this is so, then art and physics are allies in the description of truths: physical and metaphysical. Nearly a century after Einstein drew his line of chalk in the fabric of space-time, the quest for the Theory of Everything has become the holy grail of advanced theoretical physics.

The equation of the millennium would explain the elemental relationship of matter and energy, gravity and light.

We can also note that a considerable aspect of Einstein’s genius lay in his gift for asking the right questions coupled with his dedication, his ability to stay with a problem for many years until a solution revealed itself. 

Who is the arbiter of your thoughts, your feelings?

Before you answer, remember that we all are prisoners of the culture and language that we inherit. The artist, recognizing this limitation, creates a new universal language that is free from the bias and restrictions of the past.

Original thinking or feeling is based on nothing that preceded it. This is an essential insight to grasp for your own evolution.

Original means something unencumbered by what preceded it; original is not a conclusion, but a revelation that takes off in a new direction.

In the same way that you can’t plan an original thought, you can’t contrive original art. This isn’t an opinion; it is a universal constant. 

Here’s a repost from seven years ago.

Mr. Bowles’ Buddhist-leaning observation contains a universal teaching we can all prosper from and enjoy in the present moment.

“Because we don’t know when we will die, we get to think of life as an inexhaustable well. Yet everything happens only a certain number of times, and a very small number really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that is so deeply part of your being that you can’t even conceive of your life without it. Perhaps four or five times more, perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps 20. And yet it all seems limitless.”

—from The Sheltering Sky by Paul Bowles

Here is an opening statement from:

Lecture On Zen

by

Alan Watts

Once upon a time, there was a Zen student who quoted an old Buddhist poem to his teacher, which says:

The voices of torrents are from one great tongue,
the lions of the hills are the pure body of Buddha.

‘Isn’t that right?’ he said to the teacher.
‘It is,’ said the teacher, ‘but it’s a pity to say so.’

It would be, of course, much better, if this occasion were celebrated with no talk at all, and if I addressed you in the manner of the ancient teachers of Zen, I should hit the microphone with my fan and leave. But I somehow have the feeling that since you have contributed to the support of the Zen Center, in expectation of learning something, a few words should be said, even though I warn you that by explaining these things to you, I shall subject you to a very serious hoax.

Because if I allow you to leave here this evening, under the impression that you understand something about Zen, you will have missed the point entirely. Because Zen is a way of life, a state of being that is not possible to embrace in any concept whatsoever, so that any concepts, any ideas, any words that I shall put across to you this evening will have as their object, showing you the limitations of words and of thinking.

Eden speaking now: The same can be said for creating art from the soul, which is also in the Zen tradition of no thinking, no planning—only intuitive comprehension and creation.

An excerpt from a letter from Vincent van Gogh to his brother, Theo van Gogh, February, 13, 1882. Vincent counted on financial support from his brother.

I do not care so much about that “taking my part,” but I must say that sometimes I cannot bear Tersteeg’s (he initially encouraged Vincent’s life as an artist, but later on did not think much of Vincent’s eccentric attitude to life) saying to me over and over again, “You must begin to think about earning your own living.” I think it is such a dreadful expression, and then it is all I can do to keep calm. I work as hard as I can and do not spare myself, so I deserve my bread, and they ought not to reproach me with not having been able to sell anything up to now.

While Vincent felt he deserved his bread, we can finesse his thought to this: he “earned” his bread—which is more likely what he had in mind.