My life has always been full of magic. As a child I had visions and things happened that started me seeking answers to big questions. It has always seemed as though the Universe will have it no other way but that I make choices of voluntary evolution, of self-knowledge over choices of security in society. At the same time, I am not cloistered away from the world, I live in it. It is very impractical, but through all the transformation I’ve known in the answering of my questions, this fundamental experience of guidance remains. Sure, I wander off onto a side road from time to time, but the universe has a way of picking me up by the scruff of the neck and placing me back on the long and winding road of return that is here now. Hear now.
The art that I do reflects a deep question I seem to be asking about the fact of embodiment on this planet as I am always drawn, so to speak, to new exploration of the relationship between representation and the abstract. Likewise, in my living what seems to draw my attention is the relationship between doing and being.
I was around someone close to terminus – a meditator who was working toward a conscious transition. The space between the worlds was palpable, he was holding the tension between spirit and matter and the experience of this was intense, electrical. I saw for a moment that this is how we should live – with a foot in each world, alive in a way that is not one or the other, but a transcendence of both. This is the place of alchemy.
Learning to live is learning to die. For a certain level of my art to take place something must be sacrificed. A veil must be sacrificed. In the present situation, I am painting about a deep esoteric subject pertaining to suffering and its alleviation. This painting has required a lot of dying for it to reveal itself, the rending of veils continues. It is a large work and the most demanding of my life.
Of course, this rending of the veils business doesn’t pay the rent. And then again, somehow miracles line up to keep me working. When it seems to take too long for a miracle to line up there still is the habit to clench up fearfully and wonder what I should be doing to secure a better place in society – what model I should follow for artistic success, what efforts. This morning it was like that. Tears sprang up from the frustration of pondering my dilemma.
Wiping tears away, I went for my morning green tea and my Yogi tea bag said: “Let things come to you.” When that kind of thing happens it is like my lover has embraced me. There is the hope of direction. A second cup of tea: “Let your heart guide you”. Getting to the guidance of the heart is another matter altogether. But then a third cup of tea: “Let your heart speak to other’s hearts.” I just had to say something.