How many of you have had a wake up call? You know, the ones that shatter the foundation from beneath your feet? Especially a foundation that you yourself created [and not the one society handed you].
Yes…I’ve recently had one of those. It left be broken, shattered, and empty.
Yet what remained was surprising: ruins of a massive cathedral, covered in lush vegetation, images of the Universe: galaxies, nebulae, star clusters and our Sun [at the core of our solar system], Nature on and beyond Earth…and a sense of being newly born.
I kid you not. I felt like I was born all over again. Each time I checked in, I was met with emptiness. It’s not the emptiness that a lot of people speak of – where they feel lonely, or as if a void is within and they can’t stand it. No, this felt…natural…real…comforting…massive…breathtaking. Home.
It felt like Home.
This event and rebirth happened at the end of January/beginning of February of 2012 while I was in Thailand. Here we are in April [in America], and I am being reminded of who I am…and WHY I’m here.
No, not my self-image, personality, or character, wanna-be occupation or false sense of career, cultural identity, or religious identity. Remember, all of that was obliterated [thinking about it does bring a few tears to mind…the pain of being destroyed and born again]. EVERYTHING minus the essentials, was obliterated.
I’m speaking about existence. Not ‘life’, but ‘existence’.
Now the meaning of the two terms are debatable. I’m not here to speak for anyone else. That was the me before death. Here, I speak for myself. To exist means to have been created. Life, on the other hand, for me, is the expression of one’s existence. How I honor [or not honor] or express my existence – that is Life.
Maybe I’m coming around. I’ve begun taking baby steps. I’m not walking just yet. I still like to crawl, and I do crawl fast so watch out! But yes, I am learning how to walk.
I don’t like being amongst the general public. So getting from point A to B causes me to be irritable. But say, once I get to my destination [most likely an art supply store] I feel like a bubbling spring – full of Life. Full of honor.
Sounds like a baby that only prefers to be close to mom and dad [or just mom, or just dad, or just granny and grandpa – but you get my point]. I’m like the baby that prefers to be nearest and dearest to that which provides me with safety and comfort.
That’s my Art – and the people that provide me with the tools I need to get even closer to my art. I only want to be around my ‘Self’. My ‘ME’. That’s all that matters. And you know what, I feel so much MORE when I am doing just that: talking to artists, those that are in service to artists [shops, galleries, etc], and engaged IN my art.
Thank the heavens my mother finally sees and understands Me. So in case you’re wondering how in the heck I’m supporting myself while dodging the general public – my Mum.
Do I feel bad about it? Not in the slightest. Do I think I should be working? Of Course! Doing what I am SUPPOSED to be doing. And that’s –
You see, my wake up call came at a time where I thought I was on the right path to a promising career as an ESL teacher. My Masters is in Transpersonal Psychology with a specialization in Creativity and Innovation – that means I study [have and still do] the process of how people are AND the creative process [a DOUBLE whammy!]. I initially wanted to stick to the arts, and was convinced to do a back up career. I loved teaching [and traveling] so an ESL teacher seemed to be a great fit.
Only problem was – I really didn’t like being an ESL teacher. I enjoyed being around children, and using what I’ve learned in the workplace, but it never felt like it was enough. I always felt confined and suffocated. I’ve always desired to be and do what I came here to do.
But I’d forgotten what that was.
Yep, I really did.
So Life delivered a hard and heavy blow to what I created for myself, and well, I fell down a dark pit of the darkest of darkness, and was birthed through the tiniest of tiny holes into where I am today.
Did I almost physically die? Sorta kind of – I had a hemolytic anemic epsidoe while I was in Thailand [and was rescued by extended family to be seen by doctors here in America]. It wasn’t so severe that I ended up in a coma, but if I wasn’t flown home, I could have. It was a very painful ordeal, one that I do not wish to endure again.
The entire experience [I’ll save for my self published book, btw] left me the way I described way above in this post, as well as without a sense of meaning. I’d lost the desire to move onward with my life. My physical recovery took all of February and the first two weeks of March; my mental and emotional state is still healing, but doing a lot better.
Honestly, I feel so much better today than I did last week, and each week it gets better.
Long story short, I stumbled across my Story.THAT was the cure, my medicine to, well, get better emotionally and mentally.
[I still don’t like being around the general public, though]
It was during a writing session I had with myself. I was working on a workbook, created my Brainard Carey, and I was surprised at what came out. The point and purpose of this letter was to introduce myself: talk about my art that is me and why it would be an awesome idea to meet with me and chit chat about starting an exhibit [roughly speaking].
I remember staring at the paper and wondering where I’d put the actual story! You see, I’ve written it years ago… nine years ago, to be exact. I searched all dday today in the storage bins stored behind my mothers house, couldn’t find the hard copy, searched for the soft copy, hoping I’d find it.
And I did.
And I found my Self in what I had written. Goosebumps and chills galore I found my who, what, why, and where.
I found My Story.
It’s called The Crystalline Sphere.
Why it’s called that, well I didn’t note it int he soft copy, It’s on the hard copy that I cannot find. But I am sure it will come back to me…Rather, I’m sure I know why it’s called The Crystalline Sphere. I just need to sit silently and listen.
And there you have it: the Prologue.