Uncategorized

Pressurized to Perfection

I have been feeling overall AH-mazing. I have been able to do more, show up more and generally kick ass more. Yet, I have allowed myself to compare pre/post trauma versions of my capacities (which there are numerous of I’m sure). This post is a bit of that comparison mindset but also talking about how feeling great can lead us to some challenges. I will also be sharing my own challenges in humbling myself to asking for help. Also, I will share a bit of my own theories about personality vs. soul. I tend to talk about life/ living with mental health like a video game- which I don’t feel great about but language can be limiting. We will end up with more questions than when we started I imagine- but oh well- c’est la vie… or is it? #BrainInVat

Let’s start!

I am going to confess something to you…

I overextended.

I didn’t put my wellbeing first consistently for about a month.

It started innocently enough- I was going to volunteer at Bluesfest to get a certification so I can start applying for serving jobs. Then, I made a new goal of applying for at least 1 job a day, which was scaled back from my initial desire to apply for 3 jobs a day. I committed myself to visiting family at least once a week. I wanted to go to yoga classes at least 3 times a week. I was determined to pick back up my cleaning shifts to bring in extra money. I decided I was going to apply for college. I focused going to sell at least 3 paintings. I showed up fully for multiple networking events.

I was juggling, it was great. I felt ALIVE and on fire with purpose.

Then, my social anxiety reared up from having to sell tickets at a networking event.

Then, I started getting rejected by multiple jobs and flailing during interviews.

Then, talk of my mom’s murder over breakfast came up.

Then, fights started during my shift at Bluesfest.

Then, I bailed out of yoga class.

 

Then, I was caught up thinking of the future.

So true to the form of a spiritual sadist, I stuck myself in an isolation tank.

All of these effected my overall HP (Health Points) and I had a stormy mini breakdown of the New Age Blues. Luckily, I wound up in the arms of someone who loves me and just cried angry tears. I felt better afterwards but the hardest part of getting better, in my view, is admitting you are not okay.

I know from having been really sick this past year that once I started to feel okay. A part of me was like “FUCK YEA! Everyone, go back to your business- I am back 100%! Stop looking at me.”

The small voice inside continued excitedly… ” Once we are better, people won’t see Anona as sick. I won’t be judged for living with mental health challenges. I won’t feel so exposed. Everyone will forget that we failed. Everyone will forget how badly we fell. We can be normal again. We can succeed and save lots of other people. We can just be quiet about our icky parts so no one has to know how pathetic we are.  I want to be 1000% a champion all the time. ”

That little self (which sounds a bit like Smeagol/Gollum in my head) is the part that is so immensely fearful of being rejected, abandoned, forgotten that it tries to force itself to be desirable 24/7.

Yet, I am offered a few really beautiful questions:

What if there is nothing to transform? What if there’s nothing to change? What if you are already completely healed? What if you are truly perfect exactly as you are and there is nothing more?

The idea that I am already perfect even when I am not okay is radical. The idea that there’s not a single part of me, even the little Self that says all those speeches is perfect in its own way is oddly calming.

There is so much dogma to side step; whether its food, career planning, family and cultural programming, wellness and mental health initiatives.

Each different set of dogma hasn’t offered the results, peace or presence that I get from accepting the whole package of Me.

I have always consistently felt ME. Most likely because the essence (or soul (?)) that I identify as my entirety IS always constant. (no matter how much you change as a person- you always have an overarching sense of self).

When I was in the hospital and thinking everyone was an angel. I still FELT like Me.

When I was lost in the forest and screaming at strangers. I still FELT like Me. 

When I was listening to Mom’s trial and learning details that should not be known to a daughter… I still felt like ME.

When I am being held by a lover and feeling overwhelmed with joy, lust and love… I still feel like ME.

Which begs the question, who/ what the fuck is ME!?!

It can be interesting to intellectualize are way through our own stream’s of consciousness (hello- my blog, art and everything I basically do) but really its’ proven in my life to be more fulfilling to surrender to the moment.

Sometimes, the moments are horribly heart wrenching but that can be perfect in its own way.

The only aspect of Me that I know to be true is that it is constant, timeless, and indestructible. Everything else is just a whopping amount of beautiful bonuses.

“I used to have a sign pinned up on my wall that read: Only to the extent that we expose ourselves over and over to annihilation can that which is indestructible be found in us…It was all about letting go of everything.”
― Pema ChödrönWhen Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times

 

Art Talk, Uncategorized

What Fresh New Hell is this?

During this post, I will be discussing some intense feelings around the terrorist incident in Manchester this past May, my response and some general heartache about moving through the world. I invite you to allow yourself to explore your own heartache in this post but please note the beginning is always a bit rocky. Take care of yourself- even if it’s only because a stranger on the internet asked you to…

Also, I discuss a bit about divine feminine and the language around that is a bit weird for me as a non-binary hooman. So if reading “Woman” where I write feminine makes it easier for you to digest go get it.

If you’d rather just stay in touch Check out HERE: http://eepurl.com/cKWpfT

DSC_0451

Alright, so TW has been set, the pants are off, the neck has been cracked and the typing fingers have been limbered. Full disclosure darling masterpieces, I am not as angry as I was in May when this happened. I honestly could not bring myself to craft words for what this incident sparked in me.

I am going to provide some context on the Manchester terrorist incident that inspired this post and the above painting. Then, I am going to discuss a bit of my feelings on the divine feminine and how the attack relates to its expression. Then I am going to finish off with what this piece of work means to me. Throughout, I am going to be emotional and as authentic as I can be.

So, the terrorist incident occurred this past May at an Ariana Grande concert in Manchester. CNBC reports “Some 59 other people were wounded, including some who suffered life-threatening injuries, officials said. “Children were among the 22 people killed in a suicide attack after an Ariana Grande concert at Britain’s Manchester Arena, police confirmed Tuesday. The youngest masterpiece destroyed was a mere 8 years on this planet. …….. If you could say a quick prayer for Miss Saffie Rose Rousso I would be much obliged.

More here: (http://www.cnbc.com/2017/05/22/serious-incident-at-uks-manchester-stadium-during-concert-where-loud-bang-heard.html)

GAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAHHHHH!  Like, flips tables, tears down curtains and throws bookcase across the room is what I wanted to do with all my rage.

My mind attacked and started to analyze… My internal dialogue shifted to: “This was an attack on young women, on joy, on art and on the total amount of creative expression of these things combined. This is why we need feminism. This is an attack on innocence. This is an attack on freedom of expression.” Now, while I don’t think any of that is untrue, I do notice this tendency within myself to attempt to intellectualize the ills of the world away. I notice I have a belief that my mind and wit is the best tool to keep me feeling safe. Now, these are just observations of myself but maybe they are useful to you. So, on and on my mind went, thinking of the how’s and why’s.

Suddenly, a quiet voice asked from within “What are you avoiding feeling right now?”

In an instant, I crumpled into my own heart and cried. The cool tile of the basement floor cradling my knees as I held my face in my hands. I asked for guidance, for help, for anything but all I could hear was my own pulse in my ears and the hot tears on my face. Those are often more than enough guidance so I just kept feeling. Now, these tears, while filled with despair, were not sad. Largely, my emotions were of rage, frustration and that “SO DONE!” feeling we all sometimes get.

So here it is:

I AM SO DONE WITH THE FEMININE BEING TARGETED

I AM SO DONE WITH JOY BEING ATTACKED

I AM SO DONE WITH SENSUALITY AND SEXUALITY BEING VILIFIED

I AM SO DONE WITH NOT HAVING FEMININITY RECOGNIZED AS POWER FROM SOURCE

I AM SO DONE WITH ALL FEMININE BEINGS GETTING DICTATED OR PATRONIZED AGAINST

I AM SO DONE WITH FEMININE BODIES GETTING CONTROLLED OR BEING THE SUBJECT OF POLITICS, COERCION OF MANIPULATION

AND I AM SO SO SO DONE WITH FEMININE PEOPLE, WOMEN AND CHILDREN BEING KILLED FOR LIVING A LIFE AS THEMSELVES

Seriously, FUUUUUCK OFFFFFFFFFFF! 

You can’t kill the essence of Goddesses. Valkyries, Sirens, Succubi, Enchantresses, Witches, Selkies, Mermaids, Amazons, Princesses, Prostitutes, Geishas, Priestesses, Mothers, Crones, Maidens- whatever word is used the feminine is limitless and untameable.  It has stuck around through wayyyy worse. It has endured and survived pillaging, kidnapping, rape, forced marriage, slavery, servitude and just high levels of oppression for THOUSANDS of years.

The feminine is worthy. The feminine is allowed boundaries, safe expression and of space in this world. The feminine deserves respect, admiration and appreciation.

And honestly, if the collective can’t manage that can it just stop senselessly killing/attacking babies?

I know my fire as a woman-y person cannot be tamed, changed or manipulated. I am wrathful just as I am beautiful. Every time I hear a spiritual new ager talk about Awakening the Divine Feminine I think- well best be careful because I can near guarantee she is royally, regally, wrathfully pissed. An energy as powerful as the divine feminine that has been dealing with oppression for thousand of years then getting maliciously attack is going to come out as RAW Mama Kali expression. Like, … brace your multidimensional self for some change and transmutation.

Anyways, after feeling I proceeded to make as per my own tradition. This piece is called “Awoken Glory”. For me, it is that giant “fuck-you” to any kind of oppression, manipulation or otherwise control. It is the honouring if the earthly fire of the feminine that can reforge the old into new. It is the style, elegance and grace of woman in battle. It is the untameable,  mischievous lover whose eyes pierce through illusion. It is the dainty flick of a wrist that unleashes a hurricane of destruction for renewal. It is the soft coo the flutters from a mother’s mouth to a babies ears. It is the slow molten and undeniable force of the divine feminine that will never cease.

 

AND, it is also SOLD!

Got thoughts and feelings? SHARE! I’d love feedback.  Check out HERE: http://eepurl.com/cKWpfT to stay in touch.

I am about to drop a wicked cool release that is going to be MORE making so I would really sign the heck up now. 😉

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