Category Archives for Uncategorized

Birthday Giveaway and Launch into Digital Art of NFTs.

Ladies and Gentlemen,

It is my birthday on 13th of April. And the timing is just right to make it special for more people. Beginning of a 7th seven year cycle does not come every day.

I went over 1000 subscribers on my newsletter last month so I am keeping my promise and giving away an original painting – Lion Love– likely one of the most alive lion paintings I have done to this day,  to one lucky person. Read on for details of the draw please.

I wanted to make it better still and Universe opened the gates to enable that. As it always does when the intention is right.

For years I have been hearing about NFTs. Non Fungible Tokens. The unique gateway for secured ownership of digital art (besides other things), including its providence and future sales, via the magic of one of the greatest inventions of 21st century- the Blockchain technology. More about NFTs here. 

I have been hearing about it, people been telling me I should get my art on it, and I have happily ignored it all and just kept on painting.

Until recently. I am a stubborn person sometimes but I can also tell when the sign is a clear “PAY ATTENTION NOW” from Mama God.

So I listened and decided that it’s time to launch my art into the rapidly evolving and expanding world of NFTs.

 

As soon as I decided that, the right people and circumstances showed up. Long story short- we are releasing the first series of my art on blockchain via Non Fungible Tokens at the same time as the Birthday Giveaway – April 13th – April 16th. There will be several paintings in all sorts of editions available on several different platforms at the NFT launch of my art. Links will be available directly at my website.

The LION LOVE painting itself will be released in a limited series of 111 NFTs which will be made available to claim for free. In other words, the birthday giveaway will make 1 + 111 people proud new owners of my art. That gives me a nice fluffy feeling 🙂

CONDITIONS TO PARTICIPATE IN THE DRAW FOR “Lion Love” PAINTING.

I know, I don’t like rules either and trust me, I break them all. But I feel like it’s fair to ask a minute of your time and few clicks in return of my weeks of work creating the painting that I want to give away. The reason why I am asking this is always the same: build the momentum and following for the greatest mission of my life: to build Gaia Reborn. Bring that dream into physical reality and make its benefits touch many human souls. And it WILL HAPPEN SOON. About that later though. The story of Gaia Reborn will be documented, told and remembered.

Back to rules.

In order to participate in the draw you need to follow these 3 simple steps:

  1. Be subscribed to my newsletter (easy to do at www.jankasparec.com) and actually click on it when it hits your inbox and drag it from your spam/promo folder to main inbox and mark it as safe for future communications. Maybe you can even read it 🙂
  2. Follow my both instagram profiles: @jan_kasparec_art  and @jan_kasparec_official
  3. Subscribe to my YouTube channel

One last is concerning shipping. I will ask the winner to cover the cost of shipping from Mexico (where I and Lion live) to wherever he/she is. I think that’s reasonable to ask for a $7000 USD painting.

 

 

I hope this makes you as excited as me!

Abundance is the blueprint of Cosmos. The more you give selflessly, the more it flows.

Sending you tons of love from sunny Mexico,

 

Jan aka Raphiel

Introduction to my upcoming book. EXCITED TO SHARE THIS!!

I am on the ground, being kicked and hit by several men. I feel life slipping out of me with every vicious punch. I am wearing no shirt. It was torn to pieces in an earlier fight that night, and I am using the last remaining pinch of strength to curl up as tight as I can, and cover my most vital organs and face. One of my tormentors is kneeling beside my head and punching me in the side of my head furiously. Others are kicking my back, belly and legs. There is a voice in my head, and its scream is loud like a thunder of the break on North Shore of Maui after a storm: “You will die here tonight!”

I have chosen to fight these men, despite the obvious mismatch in the number of opposing force. One of them punched me in the face without warning just because I talked to a girl on the bar that I didn’t even know had anything to do with him. I didn’t mind the punch, I was a seasoned fighter. I smiled at him and told him to get the fuck out in the street. I knew there were several, but not that many. Numbers didn’t matter when my teenage pride got such a blow anyways.  I’ve been in fights against group of men many times before and my confidence was sky high. Because I won. I almost always won my fights.  Even in this case I took 4 of them down before I went down. Which made them even more vicious and diligent with the beating afterwards.

 

August 1982. I am on the left with my older brother Karel. These were the times of my innocence. 

I was on the smaller size of my school peers until I was 14. Agile skinny boy of average height. By age 16 I was a solid six feet & 180 pounds, training competitive boxing and lifting weights with my buddy, who was closer to me than my own three brothers. After all, he was the only one who didn’t run when knives came out and I got stabbed in my back the other night. The anger in me, which awoke like a roaring dragon after a long sleep with that unfortunate encounter couple years earlier and which killed my last remains of innocence with uncompromising precision, was making me fight and rebel against anything and anyone. In the streets, in the bars, in the clubs, anywhere where the opportunity presented itself, and opportunities came in spades. I went looking for snakes. And I always found them.

By age 18 I had zero experience with girls and I have been in hundreds of fights. I was beaten in many police stations and judged and convicted for violence once. I was an amazingly screwed up piece of work. Gone was the talented kid with straight As who won all the competitions at school, had amazing talent in arts and music, spent entire days out in nature climbing trees and talking to birds and who played violin like a little angel. I put that golden boy deep underground and ran a spike of rage through his heart. I felt righteous in my blindness, because I was hurt first before I started to hurt others. Badly hurt.

Back then, Czech Republic was so fresh it had dew on it. Russian army left only few years ago, rules were few and we broke them all. Just like we broke into their military bases to pick up whatever toys they left behind. We made our own rules and being tough was the only currency we possessed. The money we needed to drink, and we drank like our life depended on it, we earned it labouring on construction sites for minimum wage during the weekends. Often going straight from bar to work. Thanks God beer was so cheap and nobody asked IDs in post-communist Czechoslovakia. We looked older than our age and the world was still wild and free back then.

School, where I excelled once, became a fog for me. I struggled to stay awake, resting my sore knuckles on the desk trying to focus, in vain.  Most had no idea I lived a double life. Going to the only elite English High School in the entire country during the day and going deep underground most nights. Those few who knew, considered me a legend. And I liked that. I liked when people talked about me. This was my town and my name meant something.  I thought I was tough. In reality I was scared shitless. Of my own inner fears that took me two more decades of crusades in four corners of this world and a long strenuous journey into myself to see. And all the way to this very moment to face with clarity and compassion.

That day, when I was curled up on the ground and getting beaten to death, there was no peace, no surrender in what I thought was my last moment on Earth. Death was terrifying and dark and painful beyond words. I have seen it many times before, as a kid. While drowning in rivers and lakes, falling from top of the trees or suffocating in the hot cavern inside a massive pile of straw that I fell though on a hot day of late summer.  It seemed gentle back then, welcoming me like an old friend in its warm embrace. Not this time. When they finally stopped beating the living hell out of me, and I draw in my first painful breath of relief, I was happy to see the face of Lady Death fade away.

I wish I could say this was the end of my bad ways. I wish I could say, that when my mother found me in bed the following day, with concussion and covered by cuts and bruises, coughing and pissing blood, that I uttered some words of promise to her. I did not. I just told her to go away, and after I lay in that bed for 3 days unable to move, I patched up my wounds the best way I could and I went back to my old ways. The dragon in me was stronger than the pain. And he wasn’t quite done yet.

It took me over a year from that day and a ticket to prison cell and a subsequent fugitive run abroad, to put an end to my self-directed sabotage and start a very slow upward spiral back to light. Light at the end of a tunnel that first seemed endless, as I was beaten down even more and learned the hard way that there is many more bottoms before you hit the rock bottom of body, mind and spirit. I learned it the merciless way while I was serving five long years in French Foreign Legion, far away from my home and my loved ones.

 

2003, my last year of Service in French Foreign Legion. Commando training badge on my uniform and way too much pride in my foolish head.

It took me another 10 years to finally sit in silence for 10 days in an Ashram in India and face my demons. At the end of this inner pilgrimage I touched the beauty underneath the layers of pain of my bleeding heart, first time since childhood. I cried the tears which I wish I cried when the train started to move from the platform on a hot day of June 1998, where my mother was standing, her waving figure growing smaller with each moment, as I swallowed my tears in my foolish teenage pride. I wish I could hold your face now mother, and kiss your tears away, and give you all that love I failed to give you when you were still alive. I wish I could beg your pardon for not going to your funeral, for killing your dreams of me, and to cradle your tired feet in gratitude for being the only human who never gave up on me. For being the one who planted a seed of faith that eventually grew into a man whose face I can see in the mirror now and not feel sick. Man who lives his life now to make you rejoice from seeing who I have become.

And so this book goes to my mother Kristyna. And to all mothers who had to see their beloved children fall. I know you’re reading it mother and I know that you have forgiven me. Now it’s time I finally forgive myself. Sometimes I see your smiling face in my meditations and I know that you’ve never left my side.

It also goes to that golden boy whose hair I cut short and whose resplendent heart I pierced with cold rage. This book is the hand of grace that heals the wounds of this boy, and makes it beat once again with passion, love and endless joy it once had.

It also goes to the people who hurt me in this and other lives, to my torturers, my demons, my fears, and my countless tribulations. I now understand that every diamond needs extreme pressure in order to be formed and bring forth the light it’s meant to shine for others. I also know now that God never gives us more challenges than what we can handle in the depth of our resilient divine heart.

It took me 40 years to reach the point of no return and realize that no amount of victories on external battlefields, no amount of sex, alcohol, conquests, success, fame and money will ever fill the aching hole in my heart. And to finally glimpse the immensity of God’s cosmic love that waits at the other side of the pain I was running from. To realize that I’m here to give, not to take. To gather the strength to give it all I have, and bet everything on one shot. One sole mission that truly matters. The quest of discovering my true self.

This book is my journey back home, to innocence. It is my final battle with my dragon. And this time, my sword is blazing with love, not hate. This book is the gentle brush that will heal what’s left to heal on the tumultuous canvas of my crazy life. More than anything else though, this book is my commitment to take back what was taken away from me in different dimensions and time realms, by my choice or not, and step fully back into my Divine Power and serve the forces of Light instead of feeding my desire nature in these crucial times on our beautiful planet, beloved Gaia.

It is Christmas Eve tomorrow, and I like to believe that this book is a gift. I owe it to myself, and I owe it to the world. I owe it to you fellow humans. May it serve you well.

 

My One HOME in Two Worlds

It’s good to have this beauty back home. Back in my shrine. I lent it to friends for a while because I wanted her LOVE to touch more people. But I missed her. And now she is back home.

 

My sanctuary is ONE place bridging two worlds. The first world is my art studio, where I give birth to what pours from the Divine through my rough hands on God’s canvas. I am just a humble instrument, a grateful sailor of the Flow.

 

The second world is the temple I feel in my heart. The spacious vibrating place that no other word than HOME could describe better. That place of NO FEAR, no worries, no time, no resentments, no judgement. That place where I can come back to when the world around is crumbling, birthing pains are accentuating, truth seems like a conspiracy and acceptance of lies is a common norm. In those times the Temple in my heart still feels completely untouched by any of that madness.

 

 

I wish I could dwell in that non-physical aspect of Home all the time. Because in that place the “I” that is concerned about so many worldly things just vanishes. But I am still a human with monkey mind, a student in taming, a child-artist with wild passions. Sometimes, when I’m lucky and settled enough, I can cross the SILVER BRIDGE and dwell in that Eternal Spring of Love even during the day, listening to the rain fall on the roof, oblivious to the mass Fear Hypnosis playing out on the Earth Truman show.

Late in the evening, as the building goes silent, when I am finally satisfied with the work I have done for the day, I give the fruits of my day’s efforts one last and long scrutinizing look, thinking of what needs to be done tomorrow. Then I wipe my brushes, arrange my working area and swipe the floor. Then I unroll my yoga mat, hit the play button on my 528Hz playlist, switch off the lights and light up the candle.

 

Nobody is typically here (in any neighboring studios) at that time. Just me, the solo voyager whose social life is as sparse and random as appearance of a anything with flavor of truth in the mainstream media. This is my coming HOME time. I finally feel at peace, and I feel hugged and welcome.

I stretch my body in whatever way it needs to be stretched. Sometimes in namaskara sequences, mostly in spontaneous poses I feel that my vehicle needs. Then I sit on my meditation cushion and reach out to my Tibetan singing bowl. It’s tuned to the heart chakra and ornamented with beautiful art. I bought it in Rishikesh, and it was chosen by one of my teachers, beautiful Chris, who was the first one ever to reveal my true identity to me. Each time I hold it, the sweetness of that memory engulfs my being.  The vibration of the sound soothes my soul and my thoughts go instantly on stand-by.  I put out the final sound of the bowl by placing it on my chest and I reach out for the slightly worn-out pile of papers on the floor, next to my crystals and Orgonite pyramid. These are my prayers. Invocations of Divine Grace, prayers of Transmutation and Gratitude. And the one that I’ve been reading out loud a lot lately: Soul Contract Revocation for the Divine Masculine. That is the most powerful reading that I have found for myself in past years.

When I’m done with prayers, I blow out the candle and sit in darkness and silence. Everything is off. My wi-fi router, my phone, even my fridge. The silence is only disturbed by occasional rustle of a mouse, but that is part of the HOME and falls into the same silence. I don’t know how long I sit. As long as is needed. Sometimes for half an hour, sometimes over an hour. Sometimes I’m basking in the glory of God in the Timeless Boundless Love, sometimes I just watch my thoughts pass by, constant visitors to whom I pay as little attention as I can.

Always coming back to the breath. The only guiding post I need on my way back Home. The Home that is ONE but bridges two of my worlds.

I hope to see you all at Home one glorious day. It is 11:55 as I type this. How beautiful.

So much Love,

Raphiel (soon to come).