AUM SAINATH: HIGH-DETAIL IN PASSION

When passion is present you are unstoppable. It creates within you, a certain mood, an uncanny far-carrying drive that is inexplicable.

With it all becomes attainable.

One migh have myriad other traits, yet, without, passion all other traits become meaningless. Defunct.To me, pasion trnscends the spirit to the rarerst plane of prayer. This single quality, will , set apart your work from any. It reveals everything about you. When, nothing short of the magnificent is expected from you.

The result is mesmerising and felt by all who gaze in rapture, wonder-struck at its beauty.Passion, hurtles you past barriers and puts you in touch with a force entirely magical. Supernatural sparkle arises from you.When the statue of Liberty was built, and presented to America by Bartholdi on 28th Oct 1886, minutest attention to each strand-strand atop her head was lavished, painstakingly.

Years later Oscar Hammestein, from his helcopter could not help but notice the lady's coiffure. Every strand of hair perfectly "in" place. How many would bother and focus with such fastidious high-detail and super-fervour as did Bartholdi, its creator? On what outwardly appears so minute. In Bartholdi's day only, a soaring seagull could, possibly, have known about the perfectly-created hair on the statues sky-high head.

Yet, to Barthold's mind this, was the "very" to lavish super-perfection to.

This, then is the one "touch" that always "touches."To the artists mind this touch meant more than life itself. Remember, then, to always flow-out your total focus and pay closest attention to tiny detail. Thereby, your work attains a nature of charm. Your, creations can speak, only, and only, after they "speak" with you. I find a spiritual dimension pervade such work. As you "sense" this spirit of high-detail move in you, during each master-stroke of creation, then THAT is the area to revere and continually remain devoted to. You, cast aside the outer garment. A parallel, you arises.

Picasso, whenever he came to paint, left his shoes outside. "I carry, only spirit, when i paint or create." These,a re the forces to trust entirely as you create. From here the searching mind contacts that Higher plane of Creation. It is worth devoting an entire lifetime, to invoke this depth-of-awareness. Even, if just one task of yours attains this sparkling, illumination of inward-arising transcendence.With, this trait work is re-remembered centuries later. Evokes a sense of being awe-struck. Every stroke and contour of such creations speak for itself. Work of this order is a prayer, to creation. This is the mind-set that evokes reverance. Nothing is left to the vagaries or winds of chance.

Such a mindset is ablaze. It knows and seeks, only, a level supreme.Endearing, key-touches such as these fascinate me. They, inspire me deeper inwards. To uphold, and re-spread such minutest attention to supra-detail. Only, such work will ensure true forward-seeing progress.When soul-search not only keenly desires, but also wills to see such high-detail inculcated in everything we attempt.

That, becomes the sacred socket in which your diamond attains unspeakable, brightness.In the steady attention to such matters of detail does the fulfillment of human progress gain true worth. These "little" acts, become momentous way-markers. Lets re-awaken to more such "little" acts of repitition. More such conscious acts. Ultimately, they not only determine the character of the individual, but, also that of a nation. Take on work of such monumental immensity, that you, have to call upon a HigherForce to inspire you.

When Michelangelo finished creating the superb, timelessly magnificent statue of Moses he uttered in disdain, and deep frustration: "Why doest thou not speak to me." To this day there is a chip on the knee, of this stellar creation. Makes one shudder at the sheer magnitude of the genious he expected from himself.

Not merely wanting but also expecting the marble creation to speak and commune. But, it is, speaking even as we think about it this moment. Centuries later...Cyrus Jehangir Sataravalla