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Poetic Musings from the Spiritual WtFAQ

I have a ongoing document on my computer called my Spiritual WtFAQ. It is basically a journal where I wordbarf all my thoughts when I am feeling discombobulated. I started it when I was trying to make a manual on how to deal with /be me. A lot of it consists of questions I constantly ask myself when I am an imbalanced state- so I can read what I wrote when I was feeling good. That said, I rarely remember I’ve created this document when I am feeling *shitty.

Most of it is fun and there’s some poetry in there- maybe a book one day? Anyway, without further ado- here is an excerpt of my inner machinations. 

 

Written December 18th 2016

It can feel like I am the ghost writer of my own mind. The internal judgments cloud my eternal desire to communicate my own vision of a grand design.

If someone asked a simple question, without looking into my eyes; I wonder what would I be able to say in front of another person.

Sublimely peaceful in my own small circle of perceived madness. I don’t really want to play well with others.

A glorious disaster or a communicative natural wonder.

A crystal gem or a patch of dirt thinking it is calcified sand.

Universal languages of music, art and nature.

Fuel a divine inspired expression that is loftily met with imagined judgments that I permit to feel like rejection.

I allow myself to get lost in the cause of peace and self-righteous quests for glory.

A perfect storm of a vortex undisclosed questioning stillness and challenging resistance.

A die-hard, try-hard perpetually seeking running full tilt towards accomplishments pushed to a standstill by internal neurotic tabloids.

No real questions come because I speak to fragility and all the songs left unsung.

I am here.

I promise.

I will stay as long as I am needed.

I will always need my self because I know I am the first to love.

A love note to myself when imagined madness can tempt my Highest Good to become undone.

The constant questions I ask myself and others…

Do you understand?

Are you listening with a heartbeat of your own vulnerability?

Can you appreciate the wisdom of a childlike wonder?

Do you really believe the world needs more rewilding?

Are you taking this all personally?

Can I hurt you?

What is a boundary?

Can my creative expression and healing process be met with contempt if I wilfully disallow all attempts at disrespecting me?

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Brain Fire and Moving Onward

“Brain Fire” is what I call being syptomatic of my various mental health diagnosi.

I resent that I have any diagnosis.
I resent that I am compelled to label myself.
I resent that I am encouraged to conform the magnitude of my feelings into a socially acceptable and easily digestible expressions.

When I am syptomatic, my brain is on fire. The world feels louder, smells stronger and I feel deeper. I know and trust that I am not the first to go through these motions.

However, the simple tasks of maintaining a life… seem overwhelming at times.

I was triggered today when a relative said “if you were living in the real world- it wouldn’t be pretty. If I wasn’t shielding you, you wouldn’t make it”.

I wanted to scream fuck you and cry hot tears at the same time.

Am I not in the real world? How am I the villain for someone elses actions? How do they know my experience isn’t hellish?

Anyways, I shared that I didn’t like how that comment made me feel and the conversation resolved to an okay result. There had been a miscommunication, hurt feelings and chronic pain that exarcerbated the issue.

Still though, I felt persecuted. (which I realize is much to strong of a word in relation for the actions that happened- but it’s the most accurate descriptor for me).

I want more energy.
I want more lightness.
I want more money.

There are paintings that sell for millions… MILLIONS of dollars.
I want that level of affluence.

Yet, I am feeling frayed and dismayed… Tomorrow is another day to shift my state. To clean, to renew, to refresh and reset.

 

 

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Affluent Artistry

I am most joyful when I am making.

I feel most in my flow, most feminine, raw, vulnerable yet powerful.

I’ve noticed there are a lot of stories around being an artist and at times I allow myself to get caught up in the drama that is not written by me.

I had a trigger moment the other day when my cousin snidely remarked “Oh, so you’re doing art now? Like for a “Li-ving””

In the moment, I was throw aback. My eyes flashed off and I tasted a sour “Fuck you” in my mouth.

Then,  I took a breath and thanked whomever for inventing yoga. I do have some regrets regarding how I responded- I decided to talk about the good money I’ve been making rather than highlighting the purposeful passion I get from creating. However, I imagine I assumed that I would garner more respect from him if I highlighted the big dollar signs. I notice myself frowning as I write that last part- I don’t make because of money. The money just sort of comes because I make beautiful things.

I have yet to meet a person who feels spiteful about beautiful things.

Although, now I am remembering that Plato was not a fan of the arts. He thought they were pitiful imitations of his “perfect world” where there was a complete and perfect example of all concepts. Part of me thinks there is a ring of truth to Platos words…
There is a certain futility that comes with creating… However, that is also one of my favourite parts! I love the mess, the struggle, the challenge of skill. I love how art forces me to engage with the world with kinder, more colourful and curious eyes. I love how perfection always remains on the horizon driving me to explore further.

Endless expansion on a creativity.
Art really does fuel my soul.