I have ended this week of The Artist Way with my Artist Date. I dedicated this Sunday to commitment, worship and well, dedication to myself. Or, at least, this is what I wanted in theory. Tears have always been very close today, since the moment I woke up. And I cannot pinpoint the exact reason. One thing is sure: I haven’t liked this week of Power, maybe because it has reminded me how powerless at times I can feel. And don’t get me wrong: there is nothing wrong in feeling powerless and weak, at times. Vulnerable, that’s the word I was looking for!
I am sitting here, in my living room, now, drinking a Bishops Finger while flicking through the pages of next week and I found a note I wrote in Dec 2019: “We arrive at clarity - the book tells me - and clarity creates change”. I added: I am ready for love. No, I wasn’t. I didn’t know then, what I know now, about love. In Dec 2019 I haven’t gone through what I experienced in writing the book. I have not been aware, then, of what I am feeling now. I haven’t felt as frustrated as I am now, by not being able to express what I feel. Because my integrity tells me that this is not the right time. Still, re. next week, I am ready to feel even more vulnerable, even more volatile and irrational. Because this journey I am on will take me places I am ready to explore. Maybe now I am ready for love, or ready to love. Or ready to admit what I have always known. What that scribbled comment might have done, is to open up a "portal" where various things then happened and I observed synchronicities. We write our future, don't we?
What I like about The Artist Way is that I feel I am “moving”, but I have no idea of where I am heading.
So, today, I went back to Lytham because I wanted to feel the salty wind on my face and I wanted to hide in the crowd and cry. I needed “skin”, whatever that might mean.
I wanted to explore “couples” and instead most of my pictures had no people. No people at all. Some of them took me back to Sept 2003, in Paris, at the Grande Arche de la Defense one early morning; that time I felt I was in Paris with the wrong person because the man I loved was somewhere else. And that's when tears finally arrived.
Then I analysed and dissected the images, and found them to be mostly boring, obvious, and predictable. Still, I am happy about them.
Sending you all good vibes!
onwards + upwards ♡
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