...strummed hope in the commons again after leaving the dark space of treatment to treat myself to a pickle among the spread of mostly no vegan options that others seemed to nibble at before engaging in the thick of artistic forestry from the entrance of a hall through the mirror of infinity into an alter compiled of salvaged pieces from defunct restaurants, tire shops, people's front lawns or stoops...
...there i fell into a tangle with the artist and our mutual friend about the artistic process and plant medicine and yoga and the yuj of us in the plant medicine experiences of our mutual friend e who'd gone through 25 ceremonies over the past 15 years... transforming trauma and reimagining relationships tarred with the scent of abuse...
...inadvertent nostalgia led me to my own traumas and traumatizing... the bullied and bully of my own childhood and the pecking order of that period of single digits when the world walked by and the trauma of my parents were embroiled in the sheath of ancestral movements that like the saucha of the niyamas cleared a path to move through the metallic wilderness of the foreign land they prayed in... mostly for us... my brothers and i...
...the exhibit was closing and e i trickled our conversation onto the white stone ground of the pedestrian walkway.. enveloped in path and movement... in what's next and instagram...
...i left a little more lifted... a conversation with a friend can do that... they can be all the medicine you need...
No comments:
Post a Comment