“I am writing my story as I go. I am inventing myself one moment, one experience, at a time.”
-Marya Hornbacher, Madness: A Bipolar Life
You are the author in the masterpiece of your life, you are a series of muses, a collage of influence- alchemizing memory into inspiration, divining inner worlds into artistic sorcery, and you invent revolutions when you speak- every word is an epiphany, and every step you take changes the course of history- building the irreplaceable narrative of your poetic chronicle.
A meditative disorder is where the meanings hide, elusive in their recovery. Woven into the basket of knowledge- a container of worlds exists within, begging to be metamorphized into existence, exiled from their cocoon. The poem of your life begs to be written, a hymn of painted divinity. There is a language in fate- born of a karmic inheritance- a love that spans lifetimes. A pruned intimacy beckons the collective existence, and all is inherently mythical, sprinkled in metaphor and succinct symbolism. The creation of one’s own portrait is the reason.
“I had to create a world of my own, like a climate, a country, an atmosphere which I could breathe, reign, and re-create myself when destroyed by living.”
-Anais Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin Volume Five 1947-1955
Alchemy must take place. A conscious awareness of the magic that is written during each introspection. Knowledge is stitched into you with each flip of the page, with each lesson, in every Elysian and harrowing experience. You breathe in emblems, immersions of the spirit- a vision is born every time you speak. The mind is your oracle. It contains an internal bridge to the all-knowing, an Akashic library of unmasked secrets and terrestrial knowledge. The act of wading into your psyche is not merely a spiritual experience but an artistic one, for every thought is an invented world, and every movement is a meaningful motion. You impact the world and divine your destiny with every step and decision you take.
You could not exist here and now, in the situation you are rooted in, within the person you embody, without your previous experiences. They have painted the strokes of your ever-growing masterpiece, whether they are favorable or unlovely memories. Pay gratitude to the lessons you’ve learned as they have written your life in the exact fashion that was destined. Recall every lesson, and let it educate you. Let life move you, as you feel every meaning deeply- and allow yourself to hold the paintbrush of your intentions and paint the life you envision for yourself. The world you cultivate is innate to you, and the only person holding you back is your past selves that have culminated into one shadow. See past the shades and into the sun, hold it in your palm and allow it to illuminate your path as it comes.
You are the poetry your life has written, and you are the artist that devises its meanings. Live on, with wonder and reverence. The canvas is all yours.
Sincerely,
Dharma Bum Poetess