I still, miss everything about you. Nothing can replace you, nothing can fill the space you left....My life will never be the same without you. It's not that I wont experience love or joy again, but I won't experience the love and joy WE shared together. I won't touch you again. I won't ..... For a moment I go deep into the sadness, I feel like I'm breaking in two - then it passes, gone as quickly as it came. I know it will come again. The only way I can heal the loss, is to feel the loss. I never know when it's coming, that intense heartbreaking pain...Do you ache like I do??
It's times like these that I desperately, achingly, need art. This place, this "reality" I find myself in is so cold and sterile, I need to soften the edges. Maybe lose this world altogether for a while. Sometimes when there's a sickness of the heart, art is the only cure. I know that if...if I share my life with a man again, I have to be able to speak "art" with him... art and heart are so close together for me. I have to be able to speak magic and poetry and all those things that don't make sense. I have to be able to lose "this" world.... Just shake it loose for a while, or forever....
This world is painful for me, this world of straight edges, sharp lines, parking tickets and politics. I have to have an escape route when the thought police are after me, and that best route to freedom is the creative one. How could I ever have thought the path to freedom was through money??? Through bricks and mortor.... when art was there all the time showing me the way...
I couldn't handle going all the way down to homelessness....to living on the street with my art.... so I gave up my dog. The one that I love more than just about anything, just about any one, but not more than my need to have shelter and security. I could have gone all the way to the street for my love for my dog, but I couldn't go that far. The street means no privacy, no walls. Being exposed to the public everyday. I could have done my art on the street with my dog next to me, but I couldn't go that far.
I went as far as living in my car, with a mattress in the back. For over two years.... We camped by parks, beaches, and reserves. I sat on a rocks at the beach, and under trees, sat by rivers and lakes playing my violin, while you chased seagulls and made friends with other dogs. I had you, and I had shelter, a small world I could control...but slowly my car rusted, and slowly my walls collapsed. I couldn't afford the car repairs, my registration and warrant, became out of date, my car became illegal..I clocked up fines for then, and then finally it died. Outside my friends house, but parked illegally on the street.
In down times I berate myself for being so stupid as to get in this position? How could my love for my son, then a man, and finally a dog, drive me so far from the home I once had? And why?? No one appreciates me for allowing the slow erosion of all that held me together, in their name, at least not the man, and not my son. The only place any of this makes any sense is in the realisation that deep pain, deep loss, deep challenging of all that holds identity into a form, is the birthing place of great art. And the loss of something, 'someone', in this case a dog.. that I love so so deeply and unconditionally, takes me to the place where I can no longer live in this world, without creating, or attempting to create, great love and great beauty.
Someone, perhaps the policeman when I try to justify my unpaid fines, is going to say I'm crazy when I say, I can't make this world make sense anymore. I can understand art, I can understand the heart, that's all..
And I have to say that - I need to be what all this pain and confusion has created. I feel closer to my soul than ever. Aligned to my true self. I feel truer, freer, more real than I have since I was a child. I feel closer to knowing what is real and what is important. I feel less divorced from the truth in this place. And I know that because of this people, may say I'm crazy. Because I can only do art from a place that is coming from deep within my soul. Not for a career path, not for the dollars. I believe the dollars will come. But art has to be for the purpose of evoking joy, or allowing release of pain..for the purpose of transformation, for sharing, for inspiration, for healing... - NOT .... not for money.
Paint what deeply moves you, paint what gives you joy, paint and allow the tears to flow, paint sorrow, paint love.... paint for the joy of colour, to express, to share... or paint simply, paint a feeling, paint a single flower with love...paint like a child, forget all the rules, make up a few of your own. Paint , not for the dollars, (they will come, in their own time if they want to) but to move, first of all yourself to a better place, then maybe someone else will come for the ride.
Paint magic, worship magic(not money)... trust (the money will come, but let it go for now - just paint, or write, or play music...). No one will believe me, but this is only for me, I can't take anyone else on this journey. How can I say to anyone to follow my path, when for me it's taken me all the way to staring homelessness in the face, and sacrificing the one I love the most to avoid that?
I say not for money, but what I mean is - only paint from being aligned with the soul. If you can paint from there, and stay focused on there no matter what, then money or the thought of it and focus on it, cannot interfere, so always paint from there. Remember, you are the judge. Your work may be crap to anyone else, but if it lifts your spirits to a higher place, if it feels good to do it, you're on the right path for YOU. That's what my inner guidance is telling me.
Somehow my path is not to follow anyone elses drumbeats. Right now - I can't , not even if I want to. I've taken myself so far down this path, that no one can join me where I am, and I can't join them either.
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