Holy tin can, Batman! This week will undoubtedly go down as one of the craziest on the books... and that is saying a whole mouthful considering my track record! In a nutshell: We moved out of our 2 bedroom townhome and back into our travel trailer. Sounds simple enough, but here's how it went down...
Exactly 30 days ago, Sarah and I were driving home from Nashville licking our wounds over a disaster of an art show, but remaining so grateful for the connections made along the way and the possibilities which lie ahead. We had plenty of time to discuss matters on either side of our detour to Muscle Shoals, AL, and somewhere between the nostalgia of the road, the hallowed ground of Muscle Shoals Sounds, and the rollercoaster of events and north Alabama topography... we made a decision to commit to the art and the process by which it arrives. We set our sights on June. We said the best way for us to facilitate a more natural path for this flux of creative opportunity is to eliminate as much overhead as possible and become mobile... make some practical adjustments... start taking a look at that damn travel trailer with the "FOR SALE" sign on it and start accepting the reason it hasn't sold yet. We said we would take our time, sell our things, ease into more shows, get comfortable with the idea of leaving the concrete slab we'd had under our feet for the last 5 years.... we said we'd talk about it more and come up with a solid plan. We said we would pray about it... .meditate on it... find peace with it. Then we said we each knew, and had for a long time, that this was the right thing for us to do but that it had been a process to arrive in a place where we could discuss it candidly. We said there had been resistance because, for our own reasons, we weren't entirely ready to leave the comfort of our respective zones. We said "but we know life really does begin outside our comfort zone". We said, during our eight hour conversation, more than a few times... that we felt, intrinsically, a massive change was on the horizon and were well aware the process was never going to be easy, but would always be necessary. We knew we wanted to keep evolving as people... as artists... as the forces of nature we are and spiritual conduits for which we were constructed. We teetered between euphoria and terror, but we never took back what we'd said..... because sometimes you just know that you know..... and sometimes.... it's just time.
SO... less than one month later, I am up at 4am, making coffee in our little tin can house in the woods. We have succeeded in selling many of our material possessions, and have discovered through this process that we never really possessed them after all... but that they sure as hell had possessed us. As a result, we are happy to be exorcising the demons. Sarah and I are no stranger to this sort of purging. We have done this before. We once sold everything we owned, moved into a tent, bought a travel trailer, and traveled around the country like a couple of gypsies. But the contrast between then and now is almost indescribable. That was the better part of a decade ago. We are wholly different people now. We are whole people now. Together, back then, we were one. Together, today, we are two. There is much more strength in numbers.
I suppose I can't fully speak for Sarah, but I can say it is such a joy to watch her finally able to take time for herself. Spiritually speaking, it means everything to her... even if she doesn't grasp it yet. She quit her job this week. She has been realistic about the fact that it will take time for her to adjust, but because of her willingness to stay honest and open-minded, every tentative step she takes literally carries her beyond the horizon. Though I have longed for this moment, I am still grateful for the job Sarah kept for the last 6 years. The people she worked for are great people. The paycheck she brought home provided us a reliable vehicle for the journey in which we are about to embark. She was able to make the money she made and receive the promotions she received because of her outstanding ability and commitment to the work she did. She was good at her job. So good that it became her and she it. She suffered in the wake of identifying so strongly with what she did for a living. Ironic we call it that: "making a living". Because living isn't something we are doing much when we are working ourselves to death. Whatever the reasons she maintained such a pace, mostly unselfish, I'm sure they are valid, but she doesn't have them anymore. And I am most grateful for that. Yesterday we took a truck load of artwork to a few different galleries, and along with establishing some amazing connections with the wonderful women running those galleries, we also established working relationships and a couple of accounts which will be profitable and manageable for us as we depart from here and proceed to do most of our business from campgrounds across the U.S. We'd been wheeling and dealing for quite a while when, Sarah, eager to assist however she could, looked at the clock and said, "Holy crap! It's already 4pm!"... to which I responded, "Welcome to your new job.... where time flies, souls are fed, fun is had, and dinner is a tax write-off!" I swear, she was speechless. But the stars in her eyes indicated a shift in consciousness which almost brings me tears as I recall it. That moment when one realizes that we do not have to suffer to be successful. That we do not have to perpetuate pain in order to prosper. And that "making a living" is actually the exact antithesis of making a life. Welcome to it, my dear. :)
This is not to say that being an artist isn't hard work. Days like yesterday happen only after a few months... sometimes years... of trying other avenues, venturing down dark alleys and through hallways where every door is locked.... forcing you to climb through the window and onto the roof.... down the fire escape, through another dark alley, across an empty street, up five flights of stairs... only to knock on the correct door and when asked for the password for entry, realize it must have fallen out of your pocket whilst climbing through the window and onto the roof at the end of the hallway where every door is locked....or maybe it was that damn fire escape. Nonetheless, eventually, you recount your steps... you make your way back to your portal of opportunity, and you are granted entry. Just like that. Yesterday was one of those days, and I am so glad Sarah was present for it. These moments, whether good or bad.... difficult or easy... are so much better shared. And I was so happy for her to experience the reward of sowing into her own future... and how all the effort and energy and talent she puts in to THIS venture... can leave her with stars in her eyes rather than dark circles beneath them.
I'm not sure where this journey will lead us.... individually or collectively.... but I do know that wherever we end up, whatever is waiting there... will be nothing more that what we have created and surrendered to along the way. Wherever we end up, we will begin again.
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