I’ve never fallen so hard and so fast into love as I have into anguish. It’s like my soul has some innate proclivity towards darkness. (My therapist, of course, would counter that with the assertion that I suffer from a “fractured sense of self” due to developmental trauma and this makes it hard for me to cope with the very basic demands of life). In any case.
Some of the raison d’etre behind my art is 1. It keeps me alive, and 2. It’s revealed to me the coessentiality of love and sorrow. That, as Kahlil Gibran says (more/most eloquently), the deeper pain carves into us, the more spacious we are to experience love’s infinite expanse. The two arise for and because of one another.
I think, unfortunately and all too often, this truth is reduced to and medicated as some manifestation of manic depression or bipolar disorder.
This year I walked 500 miles to a cliff and hung my toes over the edge. I literally did not believe I had the strength to go on. On Easter morning, I woke up at the edge of the world ready to fling my body against the waves when I heard a voice that said “no matter how dark the night is, the s(o/u)n always rises. And you are The Sun, love. You are The Sun.” When I moved to Nevada City last April (after walking the Camino), I started recording everything that I was thinking and hearing and remembering and feeling as I was groping my way through yet another episode of unusually heinous depression. These video and audio clips are all the threads of an experience I’m still searching for the words to adequately explain. (Poetry is such an imperfect love). In the meantime, I’m grateful for social media as an avenue through which to share art and deepen into exploration with others traversing the pathless path.
Imago Dei is Latin for “image of God.” The sound of it resonates in my heart eternally. Imago Dei. Imago Dei. Imago Dei.
#imago #metamorphosis #imagodei #alchemy #initiation #ressurection #omshanti #artsaves #create León, Spain