Musings on art, life, love, sex and creativity...
To read more, I post over at Medium. Press here and I'll whisk you there!
 Shame upon shame upon shame upon…
Did we ever truly feel that shaming someone is the answer? That the high folutin’ squish squash power of a good shaming session will cause anyone to dare to strip away all wrongs and find their right!? What ever kind of thinking, or not thinking, led us to believe that piling on shame would make one a believer in who they are once again? We were not born shame bound. We were not upon immediate inspection immediately expected to twist and turn towards an ideal of idiotic distortion. We were not measured and found not up to the mark. No. That happened later. Perhaps moments later. Shame upon shame upon shame upon… Two wrongs dont make a right. They take away our right. Our right to breathe. Our right to dream. Our right to roam free. Our right to walk side by side. Our right to our very place of existence on existing before its time to exit once more. No one life is better than another. No one being gets a gold plated, Jesus blessed, angel juiced, holy molly fuckin star from God! Despite what those religious bindings have told us, carelessly whispering our forever sins, marked by the DNA of our ancestors, who knows whether being sinners or saints, visions of goodliness or scoundrels of pariah. Shame upon shame upon shame upon… Original sin. Leave them to paradise. Of pleasure. Of nature. Of original naked nature. Rumi told of a field. Out beyond ideas of right or wrong doing. I’ll meet him there later. You coming to? Perhaps it’s paradise lost. Found. Shame upon shame upon shame upon… We get very good at hiding. Hiding and swallowing down. Swallowing down seeds of bitterness and regret. Seeds of truth momentarily caught in our throat. Caught between speaking our truth and being silenced by shame. Shame seems the easy option at the time. Easy to press delete and censor. Censor to oppress, repress and depress. Depress and destroy the vine of voice and the true of truth. Apples go bad. They rot inside. We get indigestion, no longer able to stomach the wrong inside. Shame upon shame upon shame upon… Whatever happened to forgiveness? Whatever happened to seeing through the eyes of learning? Whatever happened to kindness over cruelty? Whatever happened to truth over tyranny? Whatever happened to singing the songs of our bones, our blood, our belly, our body, our bold beingness borne from the bounty of life. Of love. Shame upon shame upon shame upon… Peel the layers back. Spit out the forbidden fruit. It won’t bite it has no teeth. For shame can only rob us when we keep it hidden, keep us hidden. Light is inside the dark. Dark is the ground for all light. Be. Be ugly. Be beautiful. Be bad. Be good. Be mistaken. Be wrong. Be generous. Be a git. Be foolish. Be willing to know better. Be ballsy. Be a coward. Be naive. Be lost. Be all. Be it all. So fucking what! Shame only wants us in its club because we think you have to be perfect. That we have to get it right. That we have to fit in. That we can’t say that, do this, think like who we are. Shame upon shame upon shame upon… Pull off the scales of arid armour. Lay down our arms. Be in not knowing who the fuck we are and how the hell did we get here! Press our nakedness against I dont know and stay there. Strip ourselves bare. Bear ourselves stripped. What they told us ain’t the truth. Listen to the seed. The seed that came before they started to shame us. Maybe, only moments, after we were born. Aho X
0 Comments
 T is for Trickster.
That ole riley crafty coyote, playing tricks on us, running us around in circles, and turning everything upside down. From one of my all time favourite films I can hear Indiana Jones saying: “What if we are digging in the wrong place??!!” Aaah Indy you beautiful man! :-) But, what if we are my dear creative creatures?! What if we have been so focused on one telescopic point of view, one perfectly lit dream, one intangible bubble wrapped pearl of ‘this is what it looks like’, that when we finally take the pin of reality to burst the helium protected sac, and this dream thing that we have held up, adored, spoken of with idolatry, looked up to like the god of freedom is in our hands, well, well, we are stopped dead in our tracks?! You see for so many of us we pin the tail to the wrong donkey. I’m not necessarily calling our dreams donkeys! ;-). Donkey dreams. Dream donkeys. It’s getting a lil weird now non!? But we may quite possibly have spent so much time, hours, months, years, decades even, dusting and holding tight onto something that either no longer resonates or has any meaning with who we are now, or was never ours to begin with! Our father’s unmet desire to be a landscape artist. Our mother’s unrealised dream to be an actor. Somehow in the strange salt and pepper mix of twisted familial karma, we can end up having to be the housekeeper and caretaker of something that has nothing to do with us. That’s quite shocking, and pretty sobering to be honest! Or when we finally have the courage to hold our dream and test it in the bread and butter realness of the cold light of day, we may find that it has dissolved, no longer that which has kept us under its promised spell for far too long. That’s quite shocking too. To feel the texture of disillusionment, disbelief, and that pervasive sense of, ‘now what!?’. But the thing is, rather a shock and a shake and a ‘what the fuck!?’ than living the rest of our lives in the delusion of illusion. Here we get a chance to start afresh. To ask of ourselves what it is we really dream of or maybe, just maybe, to drop the hiding behind a ‘dream’ and instead to live. To live. To take the proverbial bull by the horns and run with it. Into the great forests of not knowing, through the mountain mystery, over the dark void infinite depths of oceans. You get my drift. There can be an uncanny sense of relief once the initial shock has calmed down and removed its slapping palm from our reddened cheek. A relief from the putting down the belief in ‘this is what is should look like’. A freedom. A liberation. A pass and an open door into the limitless land of creativity. When we put down our pressurised shrunk idea that I am only an artist if I paint my way to a grand retrospective, write a New York Times bestseller, launch a number one selling album etc., then we have the whole realm to play out in. New creative ideas and forms to make friends with, to get to know, to explore, to play with. We are creative beings because that’s just what we are. Trickster is great at kicking our ego-ed ass and sometimes we need it. Sometimes, his spinning us around might just mean, when the dust has settled, that we begin to dig in exactly the right place at last! :-) |
Heidi Hinda Chadwick
Creativity. Sexuality. Life. Art. Soul. Love. Archives
June 2020
Categories
All
|
RSS Feed