Sarva Buddha Dakini Painting and Poem

Dance and the walls are around you.
Moonlight begins to fill your soul.
Dance and the walls move around you.
Leaves on trees fill the corners of vision.
Dance and the walls dissolve.
A fire starts to burn in your soul.
Dance and the world dances with you.
Colors swirl, emotions converge, unity ensues.

-Ed Tajchman
Sarva Buddha Dakinin, 36 x 53 inches, Ed Tajchman, acrylic on canvas, ©.
This is my version of this mythological figure that Joseph Campbell describes as, "A kind of fairy goddess of all the Buddhas". She drinks blood from the top of a skull. She holds a flaying knife in her left hand in which to dispatch her victims. She wears a kilt of carved human bones and necklace of human skulls. Kali the Hindu goddess is a similar figure. To dance with this goddess is to dance with death, one must be unafraid.

Charcoal Self Portrait from Age 17, Poem July 2014

The self portrait below is me at age 17. Three aspects of self, with the shadow self grabbing from behind. This was a frustrating time for me, like many people. The poem is written and edited July 2014.

"Between The black ink shining as it dries, and the pink morning light fading from your eyes, between the dried root finally cracked and broken, and the hoots from the owl awoken. Between the dried paint on my fingers, and the feint whispers echoing in my soul that linger

A memory stirs of when a few strands of her auburn hair hung over her eyebrow. I hope she remembers to use all ideas from all moments. Seeking the shiners in her every where now.

Whole world optional alone rolls forward, from the breath of a clenched brow when the pharaoh hound returns the favor. The world and everything inside of it seen on the shelf yesterday. Every small moment glued to the walls carefully"

-Ed Tajchman

Charcoal Self Portrait age 17 by Ed Tajchman. 

Dionysus and the Reborn Child

A boy sat by a pond dreaming.
Wandered into the forest as if seeming
to be lost; hid inside his own imagined world.
Heart unfurled for no one to see maybe the only place it can be, that way.
dances alone in the reflection of the water's edge.
Solemn decrees, an honorable pledge,
when the trees and spiders and cotton floating
are the only witnesses. Alone an uncoiled magic.
Unspun story spilling anew when the orange glow
of afternoon sinks into the nostrils. Feet cannot
stay still, the earth is the only seat.


There laid the remains indistinguishable from the rest of the burning ashes.
Rust turns eyes burn when the smoke sinks into your eyeball veins.
Only comes through in flashes now, haze reins when focus sinks you into a dream.
Cannot hold on when the burning of life's exhuastion grabs your wandering soul's eye for an hour. For a lifetime or two.
hands become the seems in another wall when you fall through the floor.
Disappear when you want to again back into the last remaining everywhere.
You no longer have your team in the twisting corridors of the mindtrap's eye.
In a real place you know the wolfpack will find you. Don't let ignorance blind you.

The Mystery

When you are the sun I am the shadow beneath the clouds cast from your shining rays. 
When you are the full moon glowing I am the midnight sky made visible.
When you are the wind blowing, I am the l last leaf shaken from the tree's bare branches.
When I am praying you are the angel who is listening. 
When I walk on the beach and the vast ocean calls my heart, you are the waves crashing around my chest.

-Ed Tajchman

In Secure Expressions

Bloody fingertips shaking feverishly, caressing a furrowed sweaty brow. Thick head filled with humid nightmares collecting in every crease in the bed-sheet. Pillow soaked on both sides, body drained and frozen cannot rise and face the new tide. No surprise what fears lurk in the empty chamber, not even pieces of the beating pulse that once reared their heads continually can be found.

Deceased phantoms facilitate unwilling progress. So happy to be in the sun now, so free to feel the wind in the face now. No disgrace on the bottom of those shoes, no matter how many piss-filled stone corners of a wasted and hungry world they travel. Whose to say the empty, scared, lonely, hollowed shell of a being he was now, was not a far cry from my ferocious childhood in the end besides.

Wandering and dreaming boy, lost control of his spell, became part of his own creation. Infestation of love misplaced, none to sustain my face now. Cold skin lingers all over my bones. And not for want of pushing all the buttons as carefully and in all the incandescent patterns as possible. Focused and facing all the swinging causeways that life has to offer. None can soften the blows that your own being becomes. Find it and own it. Take care of it.

-Ed Tajchman

Random Shit

When no one nourishes at the well the spiders become anxious. Succumb when the wiring becomes wound too tight. Found out that at the core you can only find your being. Fill it yourself with all you find and shine it forth. She saw the same thing between them, how they created ideas that sustained their souls, but holds her air carefully and with good reason. How the movement flows so easily between the two, but bends all the rules. Careful now watch out for the love. When it is so pure in wanting freedom and truth freely for another this will become the infinite now. Giving up all but claims on your own heart's destiny still leaves the hope of possibility lingering.