acts o f . .. . .
the Ritual is of the same .
it comes from the same innate place , , ,
God , the heart , intuition . the patterns are repeating , as is heart ,
heart is beating , both work in tandem .
channeling , , ,
in a series of varied motions , i am repeating .
i am acts , acts of God .
spirit , , , flows.
over and over
each mark meets paper , , , in this way we can see marks as mirror .
each movement as nature
/ / same sides , repetition , patterning , coming , , ,
together .
nature moves , wind breathes , birds sing ,
as do i ——
heart beats , body shakes , deep breath , i sing .
i am presence . spirit as presence ,
painting , mark making , as channeled presence with divinity .
—
- - -
divinity flows , , , . . . . . .
performance. .
each act of movement ,
a performance .
of the self ,
of the mind ,
.
the egging / the scramble / the fluid egg white
why am i talking about eggs? well, i think of a sticky fluid egg white breaking out of it’s shell. i think of me , writing poems like that ,,, spitting up. spitting out , spitting out words onto paper , watching each letter form quickly, my eyes in line with the pen . ,,,,,,
utilizing every part of my process …
it feels almost painful. sitting in presence when inside of a mode of creation is absolutely necessary and yet, feels almost impossible,
even painful at times.
i can feel my heart rate growing faster, every distraction feels like an excuse to run.
im realizing more and more this time i have is meant for me to face this ‘darkness’, ‘discomfort’, ?
i don’t have a word for it that feels fitting.
making work about rituals, about spirituality, nature, emotions . . .
god it feels impossible a lot of the times.
and yet i still find myself showing up here.
something is obviously calling me to this work, and when i say ‘work’, it is interesting to think about this work in the context of it not only being art, but also being or feeling like something greater
and sometimes i feel like why the fuck can’t i just make a painting like everyone else ,,,, …
but that doesn’t really feel like my purpose in showing up here.
and i tell myself, stop running from discomfort,
so here i sit, thinking i can come up with this beautiful perfect ritual of creation — but in fact, it is the exact opposite of what i sometimes fantasize about.
messy, imperfect, ugly, hair pulling, draining —
i think about my lived experiences in a similar light / mirroring these same artistic, channeled experiences .
these fantasies, o o o they feel real good!
hm.
i have to face myself, my real self, not my perceived fantasy, every time i sit down to work.
i pace around and around and around for hours beforehand, sometimes anticipating the feeling of anguish.
god, sometimes i feel, am i even ready to do this ? and i mean, all of this ?
a part of me wants to.
another part of me equally wants to run the fuck away. another part of me just wants to be free and young and light - hearted. and i think, this feels heavy, and it’s hard to deal with, and sometimes i really don’t want to deal with it .
not just art - making , but, the idea of being this artist, and a poet, and someone trying to be a catalyst for connection and conversation and talking about spirituality and dreams .
at times it feels heavy
at times i am learning to grieve this role i have taken on
and right now i am learning to accept the pain that i sometimes have to bare in choosing to follow a path of truth , of acceptance and of showing up , and not running away .
it is all still a mystery to me at times —
why am i here , why i am doing the work i am doing,,,
these things that come up. and as days move along and i continue showing up, i imagine that the answer will continue to reveal itself while simultaneously evading itself from me.
hm.
as is the mystery of life, huh?
maybe the most difficult part is learning to accept that i have no answer and there are no answers — rather, there is an open ended question , or there ARE open ended questions being asked,
and they are being met with, they are intertwining with, rather than being answered — abstracted languages, foggy visions, and a drawing or a painting that feels like an other worldly extension of myself.
— like i am simply the medium, and another energy is flowing through me. is it spirit? maybe.
maybe i’m honing in my power each day, or maybe this understanding is so form-less that all i can do is sit back and let it flow ~
and sit with what that feels like. accept that — that’s that.
that is that.
lately i have been feeling my feet. seeing their veins, walking barefoot, gracing the earth with rough calluses. today i had a headache, so i smoked a cigarette and walked barefoot down the rough gravel road at my home , and looked at the river from afar, and i see the smooth - ness of the stream running over rocks and i wonder , it would be nice to take a dip.
and then ,,, here i am, a capricorn moon trying to compartmentalize her emotions in order to create the most aesthetically pleasing , emotional , spiritual work of art and poetry. did it work ? luckily , having a cancer venus balances out that need to analyze, intellectualize, those emotions.
so , here it all is ,
thank you for coming along and for reading
i appreciate you being here
for engaging ,
while i take on this new ‘project’
this new, ‘way of being’
or of sharing, processing , etc
thank you
~
