The Sandbox

Amnesia, Art, Healing

2/21/17

6:18AM

Authenticity

A

Yes?

S

I woke this morning with clarity. 

A

Yes?

S

It was about Eileen. I woke with clarity and without much in the way of extreme emotion—very little emotion, actually. I woke with this clarity, the calm, that she was mostly a waste of my time. I made it as productive as I could—documented it—wrote like the wind—eventually—recently—have begun to make that part of my journey public so others can take a look.

But she was mostly a waste of time.

I have seven years to file a complaint. And I will keep my loaded gun by my side. 

But I feel, at least this morning, I’m likely to do nothing with it for pointing it at her and firing it, presently, feels like even more of a waste of time. 

More time on her. That gets me nowhere. 

A

Okay. 

S

I sit here today with a lot of material behind me. A clearer slate in that I cleaned up my Winter meditation and seem to be in spring mode. 

MLG

We hate spring. 

S

Truth, Monkey. 

A

Why?

S

Well aesthetically, living in California for as long as I have, I have grown to love the flowers in spring. So I don’t completely hate it. But spring generally feels stale to me. It’s just not my thing. 

And this spring, the spring of 2017 feels particularly stale. And empty. 

I wake this morning with the clarity of blank pages that I’m not sure how to fill. 

A mountain I seem to climb with a considerably lighter load but without direction.

A

This stage of our healing is new. We need to sit—or climb—whichever you prefer—but we need to be with it—whether we are moving or not—we need to be with wherever our meditation—our heart—leads us. 

S

I sit with unknowns about all these words, all these pages. But it feels lighter. It feels better to, whether anyone ever sees the work or not, to have it available up onto a website. There is something about being in the sunlight that feels like the right way. 

A

Good. 

S

The clay…I can feel something going on inside me but it has yet to burst through. I only know to keep on with my creatures, and listen to what calls out to me. 

A

What are you hearing?

S

I feel in these moments like I have wrung out everything; first I worked for literally a year or two on eyes—pupils, lids, size and most recently probably a couple of months on placement of these eyes and how this amps the emotion and feel of movement. I have also finally figured out mouths better—I’m not done with the mouths but I’m relatively much further along. 

A

So what keeps us in creatures?

S

It’s honestly the clay bodies; what they are made of. I have been picking and choosing without really realizing this. I have a palette that has been evolving. 

A

And that is?

S

White, black, gold, brown, yellow, speckled. 

A

Earth tones?

S

I think so…along with pops of color when I want them. 

A

What do you feel this is about?

S

I think it’s about change. 

A

Is there something we are missing, something we need to do in our creature meditation? Something left to do?

S

I think it’s what we were talking about earlier; that I need to just kind of sit with where I am,  just like I am doing here and now with the Sandbox, keep on and just allow things to unfold. From a practical standpoint I want to build my inventory so I don’t feel gutted. I gave the last gallery a large chunk of my latest work. 

A

It has been only a year since we first brought our creatures to Mendocino where we had success with the art center that now carries them. 

And less than a year for our website. 

S

Truth. 

A

We have only had our Sandbox website for three months and look how far we travel. 

S

Truth. 

A

Our system says to sit tight…to keep on…that movement towards Towards will become clearer. 

S

Okay. 

A

For now, let’s enjoy a training run, a body that has learned to get up early now ever since July, a partner we love that we shall marry, a country that we’ve never been to that awaits a visit in March. 

We are, S, traveling. 

S

Thanks, A. Gratitude sounds like a good idea?

A

Oh indeed. Dreams will be coming true. And I know deep down that we have big ones. 

S

Truth.

A

Perhaps these first steps into spring we can spend not an inordinate amount of time but perhaps we can pick some flowers from our therapy with Teresa and make sure that they join the rest on the website?

S

Not a bad idea. Especially since I see my therapy ending fairly soon. 

A

And that feels?

S

It feels not just okay but good. It begs the spring-like question I sit with; where do I head? The trail I’m on feels without direction. But I think that’s fine. Because I know that the trail seems to not include more therapy—that direction feels wrung out. 

A

Knowing with ease and without the pain of wrenching dependency that therapy will wrap up is a huge accomplishment. 

S

Thanks, A. 

A

We have been in bad therapy that disallowed us this ability to ever think we’d become independent of it like we are now. And we have been in therapy that has worked. 

S

Yes. 

A

And soon we will be in no therapy at all. And the mountain we climb, the terrain will be changing even further. 

S

I’m a little scared, A. 

A

Normal. 

S

As I consider getting my own kiln, all of a sudden I wonder where I will get my support. The studio I’ve been with fades into the distance. The therapist I’ve been with too, fades into the distance. 

What will…happen? 

Where will I go?

A

One day at a time, S. Let’s allow these considerations to float in and out, allow them to form a path that takes us where we need to be.