Gorgeously brilliant pink sky this morning . . . the clouds are forming a series of linear bars reaching out for the earth’s magnetic poles across the horizon like many thin, airy arms . . . a progression of ghostly filaments alive with color, spanning the globe. It’s breath takingly beautiful. From where I sit and write I get a small window into this magnificence, and for the moment my entire focus is on this sky . . . Soon, it will be gone, washed into the light of the sun. Changes in the atmosphere . . . and changes in my life . . .
To start off, my income level and stability has changed . . . Did I ever really have stability anyway, or was the ease I felt when cash was flowing a temporal illusion of stability? Sudden and unexpected downsizing of income is true for so many right now that I find some comfort in the communal aspect of this change . . . And, it’s still personal and with that, all the personal stuff that accompanies re-organizing my financial life. Changing income is enough in itself to turn life upside down, and in mine--there’s more, a lot more. . .
The constellation of people in my studio space has changed. The absence of some, and addition of other suite-mates, along with the concomitant energies they bring are all very different. I’m not at all sure how that will effect me, and it will, already has. Being an empath, it’s inevitable that shifting the energetic human dynamics in the place where I paint will present itself to some degree in my work.
At home I have re-located my personal living space within my household to accommodate major structural changes in my primary relationship . . . This is a big change emotionally and physically. In re-locating, I’m aware of many levels of embodied behaviors that suddenly don’t exist! For instance, groggy from sleep this morning when a bright light would sear my tender eyes, I don’t have embodied access to the dimmer switch. I just haven’t reached out for it enough in my new location for my arm to automatically give me just a little light at a moment when my being isn’t fully functioning yet. This morning I almost blinded myself with full on halogen . . . It’s the little stuff and the big stuff of moving . . . I can’t remember where I put my vitamins, and can’t figure out where to put the bills, car keys, computer charger, dog food . . . and where is that much needed cell phone car charger?? And this is just the physical aspect of re-locating, there’s the relational . . .
Caring deeply for another so close to my heart right now means giving space, stepping back from contact . . . That’s love in action in my life at this moment. This change shows up for me like a hole in the fabric of my life, a hole that I am looking through . . . Perhaps there’s something I will be able to see and live into on the other side of that fabric, something that I have visibility into only because of the space that now exists between us. The hole can serve as a window, and I don’t know what lies beyond. I certainly don’t know what lies ahead with or without the space. All I ever have access to is this very moment . . . In reality, a culmination of all the moments of my life here in physical form on this earth. I admit I feel disoriented at times, about to say something to someone who is no longer present when I’m brushing my teeth or running to the store for arugula and feta. Changes.
All the routines seemingly insignificant or not, have given, and do give me a sense of familiarity, a known-ness in this life. I’m not advocating an assessment of value, simply observing. I notice the opportunity to become victimized by the changes, crediting my behavior, my mood, my sense of ease to the external factors. It’s then I’m remembering MY life is MY creation. To the degree I am at ease--comfortable I feel in my own skin or not, is up to me. In truth, there’s something to be said for discomfort. When familiarity erodes into the vastness of possibility it’s life as one big jig-saw puzzle in a box that fell off the shelf. Suddenly all the pieces are scattered all over the floor with almost limitless new combinations to explore. No more business as usual--no wonder I can’t find anything! That’s the way it is right now.
How do I move forward with all the pieces of my known world scattered? I can look at it as tragic disruption to routine, and be miserably frustrated . . . Or, I can look at it as a treasure hunt affording opportunities for discovery on an amazing journey . . . And, somewhere, sometime in that journey, I’ll find the piece leading to my cell phone car charger . . . and maybe I won’t!
The sky is a soft gray-blue now . . . the brilliance of this early morning’s visual feast is gone--that’s neither good nor bad from where I sit. It’s simply different, it’s a change. Like the ever-changing sky reflects the rotation of the earth around it’s source, the sun . . . How I live into my ever-changing life circumstances will be a reflection of how I relate to and interact with my source--my essential energy deep inside. . . All the changes and shifting material of my life simply highlight a reality that nothing is static externally or internally. Day by day, moment by moment, life is in continual movement, always, ever, a dynamic journey that is mine to own, mine to live . . . living into change . . .
That’s what this artist is thinking about today . . .
PS . . . Just noticed that some weeks ago, before the changes, I taped this Rilke poem on my notebook . . . Wild!
In Praise of Mortality
Want the change. Be inspired by the flame
where everything shines as it disappears.
The artist, when sketching, loves nothing so much
as the curve of the body as it turns away.
What locks itself in sameness has congealed.
Is it safer to be gray and numb?
What turns hard becomes rigid
and is easily shattered.
Pour yourself out like a fountain.
Flow into the knowledge that what you are seeking
finishes often at the start, and, with ending, begins.
Every happiness is the child of a separation
it did not think it could survive. And Daphne, becoming
a laurel, dares you to become the wind.
~Rainer Maria Rilke
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