Manito Ahbee.
What is happening to me?
It seems like just yesterday – and it almost has been that short a time ago – that I was feeling quite content, balanced and mentally/spiritually prepared for this weekend when I’ll be participating in my first ayahuasca ceremony. It’s been a long year of astounding synchronicity that brought me to this point and here I am – or thought I was – poised to face this newest phase of the journey towards consciousness expansion and enlightenment.
But then, about the same time I solidified myself as a participant in this sacred event, things started to come undone. First it was the loss of my internet connection and thus my phone being cut off (it’s internet-based), which I figured I’d take on the chin for a few weeks, cause I had a tonne of artwork I should be focusing on anyway. I’d just visit WiFi spots to do the necessary online rounds once in a while. But then my laptop dies. Like… it’s a brick. All my high-resolution artwork, contracts, contacts and emails…gone. Ouch. At that point, which was only a handful of days ago, it started to hurt, especially since only a few days beforehand I woke up to a flat tire, irreparable for highway use. The retreat started to feel like an impossibility, since I can’t afford to replace the tire. Creditors are already on my case, not happy with the fact that their payment was diverted to just barely pay for the gas to get me to the retreat. But, wait! Not to worry! Luckily my amazing, inspiring, beautiful girlfriend generously offered to lend me her car… just before we broke up. Sure, the split was an amicable one – the healthiest I could hope for – but, wow… what timing!
I mean… what is happening to me?!
So why am I still going to this retreat when one might say the universe is screaming for me not to? Well, I really don’t see it that way. My whole intention with this weekend is to reignite my passion for creating artwork; something I’ve all but stopped doing since my Hollywooden dreams finally died and I began to construct artistic goals that truly served to nurture my soul, rather than feed off it. For years I’ve been documenting my experiences of pain, angst and/or disdain in acrylic. Externalizing the monsters, purging them irresponsibly into the public mind. But, now, I understand that art is essentially the conscience of our age and, as such, artists manifesting their consciousness in physical form should recognize the enormous responsibility that comes along with it. I don’t want to document my experience in my art anymore, even when my outlook is much more positive nowadays. Instead, I want to create an experience; one that can be soulfully appreciated by those receptive to it.
Lofty. And, ummm… have you seen my art? No wonder I’m so blocked.
The bottom line is I haven’t sincerely felt like my recent avalanche of “misfortune” is a bad thing. I think the universe is simply cleaning my slate in the most timely of fashion, preparing me for some sort of rebirth. And it seems that whenever I falter and start to think I’m only deluding myself… I get a little sign to hang in there. Like yesterday when I logged online at the library to find this in my inbox…
Anyway, I’ll let you know how the weekend goes. I better get some sleep.
