The Artist’s Way

Clarity washing over me, watching the city from above, tears streaming down my face. Streaming. Streams of hurt, betrayal and insight. Whitewashing myself from having given space to abuse. Abuse from men. The last days, weeks, months, years. All my life. It ends here. Now. With me. Today. No more. I couldn’t see clearly. My vision blurred from my pure, kind heart, seeing, understanding the world’s pain. Wanting to cure it. To heal it. Fix the world. Fix the hearts. Erase the pain. Replace it with love. I wasn’t protecting myself. I made myself vulnerable. I wanted to be pure, real, open for the world to find me. Anyone. Fragile, wounded, yet again and again exposing myself to the poison of broken souls, broken hearts, longing to shelter them. A mission as impossible as bringing a dead back to life. Yet I never gave up. Not for 20 years. Twenty years of open projection space for pain. For the pain of the world until I couldn’t hold it anymore and it came running out of me from all pores. Today. 

You’re a fucking traumatized shit. He yells at me, walking away after trying to get my attention for the last week. At least I know about it. So are we. But what to do with all the traumatized souls? Holding space? I drop my bottle to the ground and walk away. Forever.

The view over my favorite place in the world grounding me, making me fly the same. Opening my world and my heart, becoming more beautiful, more infinite with every step all the way up to Mother Georgia. 

Arriving at the top, I squeeze my eyes shut from the brightness of the sun shining straight into my face. 

Evolution. Process. Transformation. Happening right here in this moment. Here. Now. Changing the energy of the entire world, the universe. Me. Us. Now and forever. Understanding spreading into the deepest of tissues. On the verge to evolve.

Evolving right there seconds later, pulling me into the tiny alley as my own singing becomes quieter than hers. Rihanna. My favorite. She’s looking the same. Moving the same. All black. The knot on our heads, held up high, dissolving the knot in our hearts. Red nails glittering through the darkness of distress like the rings on our fingers. The seven rings of Love.

Drunk in love. I want it. I got. Only a genius could love a woman like me. Beautiful Liar. The innocence is gone. I wish I could take all your hurt and pain but the answer is simple he’s the one to blame. Triple Power. Toxic. You’re dangerous. I’ve loved it. Too high, can’t come down. Full on power. I’m outta love. Can’t you see! Set me free. I want it. I got it. After all you’re the lonely one. Where did your heart go? Did you put it on a train? Did you leave it in the rain Or down in Mexico? Only Smoke is left.

Unpoisen me. The female energy set free again. Rising with the moon, watching over us. Singing dancing through time and space with my reset mind. Refreshing my Playlist. She’s on the turntables doing it for me. Making it easy. Mental High. A German woman in Georgia. I’m an alien. Making it mine. Gentlewoman will walk but never run. 

Everybody hurts. Everybody is scared I say. But you look happy she says looking up to me. I smile. Thank you I say, tears in my eyes. Thank you for you she says. She gets up. Thank you. I feel better now. You made me happy again. Don’t go wasting all emotion. Lay all your love on me. Don’t go sharing your devotion. 

You have your people to whom you mean the world. I have a number of people who check all the boxes in terms of strength, emotions, empathy, energy. When it comes to the person who has come the longest way and has come the farthest I do not have to think about it long. That’s for me YOU. You’re a force of nature. Intelligent, beautiful -inside out- emotional, strong etc. and naturally this is extremely attractive to men, how else could it be, would be utter madness otherwise. […] you’re constantly in process although it seems to hurt you a big share of the time, at some point you will be at the point where you think ah this is what it was all good for. I strongly believe in it. The right person will some day stand in front of you and in the storm everything will be fantastic. 

And so he goes on about me reading my heart. Accurate to the bones. I return to the streets. To the world. High frequency sensitivity. Fully aware. Tunnel view, bringing me back up into daylight. A stream of air powerful enough to blow out the light of life. More powerful than all the energy of the universe combined, leaving me in meditation. The bell of the holy church chiming. The fire rebuilding creating new structures. Focus. Going higher. Into the light. Choosing my way. Newly. Creating. Safe Space. The car stopping. Right in front of me. As if I’ve been walking that path all along. The artist’s way.