Last November, after much promising start in London (moved over from Czech in September) I was halted in a major way by health issues. Looking back, the explosion was part of the healing process, however dramatic. It certainly made me stop, stop, stop. Full stop. Period.
After being discharged from hospital I got back on my usual track within three weeks, even if I had been told to wait for about half a year before sailing the wild stormy seas of life “out there”. Naturally, something got to give. And it did. Had a relapse, this time not as dramatic and managed at home, but it lingered until about beginning of May.
All throughout January, February, March and April, I could not let myself let go. And just BE. I worried about everything. How am I gonna be able to sustain myself. How am I gonna make my dreams come true. What are my dreams. Who am I. The whole lot. The usual suspects. Accompanied by the ever so slight paranoid matrix-like perception. Not being able to venture outside the house without my partner. Niiiice one. Would make a great detective thriller script, only if I remembered it all.
However I had to start somewhere because staying “there” (which was then my internal “here”) seemed like hell. I started making bread (always helps). I mended all my clothes (was not easy as the needle was changing into the proverbial one with angels on the top and/or a camel wanted to squeeze in). I sowed all the seeds my mum sent me for Christmas last year (who cares that there are now hundred radishes growing in one measly flower pot). I started watering them regularly. I made yoghurt. I drew. Endless cups and spoons, with every tea and coffee, with every meal.
And surprise surprise, withing a week of this “one minute heaven focus” something has changed. All of a sudden not all was lost – somehow, by grace, miracle or UFO intervention I managed to “kick it in the fuck it bucket…” and realized I had done NOTHING WRONG, and therefore had absolutely nothing to fear, I just laughed, and laughed (never been high on dope, but assume that my laughter of relief might have been similar to the giggles). I moved on and things have started happening.
I sensed I was back to my self. Not the old one quite, a bit wiser still. I realized I can still have the dream, it has not changed. I can have it all…and by a serendipitous series of coincidences, things have been falling into place and are just the way they are meant to be: the you in me love, the (not attic but basement!) studio, the loss of excess weight I had carried on for ten years, going green and clean, detoxing, chilling. And all that was required of me was to let go, trust, surrender and be. By giving up High Hopes, I stumbled upon Great Expectations (in Czech the book goes under the name of Hopeful Expectations).
As to my Arting business: All of a sudden, without any effort on my part, membership in my meetup group doubled. Another couple of weeks, and perhaps in the summer I will be able to start with my freelance gallery work. Exploring/The Artwork/You Are.