Chrysalis

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Psychedelify the atmosphere

Among the very tangible goals of releasing a book, printing up photos for craft fairs and art exhibits, continuing restoration on the park house where I live, and remaining dedicated to my yoga practice…

I’m very much interested in inspiring others to shed skins, break boundaries, and soul express.

semantics and definitions:

shed skins – to release built up, stuck emotions; transform memories from heavy burdens (baggage) into gems of lessons

break boundaries – try new things, consciously walk new paths

and ultimately this leads to soul expression:

how would you art yourself? through clothing? decorations? singing? dancing? painting? writing? ::: anything that simultaneously satisfies and reveals a deeper layer of your being

perhaps your

anima – inner woman
-or-
animus – inner man

are yearning to see the light of day

The word anima and even animus remind me of animal, but not just any animal, the divine animal, the primal nature, the thump and beat awakened within, the throb of passion, livelihood, and creation

I’ve been exploring my anima for quite some time. I’ve come to know her as a fierce warrior, related very much to the Indian goddess Kali. The anima within me is a jaguar priestess and huntress like Artemis. She is a sacred whore who works magic and healing utilizing and channeling sexual energy. She is a loner like a stray wolf.

I call her Jade Hart.

The animus within me is like a shaman, a trickster, a playful voodoo hoodoo magic man quite unlike any archetype I’ve hitherto known. He is a myth of his own.

I call him Jade Hart.

semantics and definitions:

jade – a precious stone, an imperial gem, royalty; a female name

hart – a male deer who matures after 5 years time, his antlers are his crown; a play on the word heart

In 2009 I put out my first book. Essentially, I’ve been spinning this art and poetry philosophy going on 5 years…

My 28th birthday is coming up this year as well, a very auspicious year in astrology, something I learned about and started gearing up for back when I was twenty-three, a rich and textured 5 years ago…

Suffice it to say,
I am very excited.

I hope to share as much as I can with y’all.

Alive to inspire

An enchanted warrior walks the earth

In leaps and bounds, he moves
floating
slowly at times
careful of each breath

He smiles
and creates a wake
waves of sage
whispering tales
visions
behind a veil
of smoke and incense

enchanted warrior

He sits
and meditates

life

breath

contemplating saddhu

He contemplates the nature of death
the stillness of sleep and dreams

He peers into the mirror of self
the ineffable
union

He extracts beauty from darkness
a flower of light

crystal skull

He offers it up as a prayer

chieftain in prayer

Peace

Thinning the veil

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I’m drunk. I’ll admit it. Right off the bat. I drank four glasses of wine tonight and I’m drinking my fifth. I think. Maybe my sixth. At this point, it matters as much as it doesn’t. I’m going to wake up tomorrow and go about my day in a rather lackadaisical way. Like everyday. I’ll wake up and enjoy the morning: the sun, the sky, the clouds, the birds… But some mornings, some mornings are extra special. Some mornings have fog. Other mornings have rain. O! – I think it’s going to rain tomorrow. Oh oh oh. I can’t wait. I love the rain. With a passion.

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Passion.

Sometimes I have trouble distinguishing passion from obsession. They blend so easily.

I have a passion for creativity. Recently, I discovered Instagram… I hate to admit it, I’ve become obsessed with picture taking. A part of me says, “Hold back brother. Let your creativity build and only post your best.” Another part says, “Fuck it. Take as many pictures as you can, call it practice, post all of them, let them fly.” And the latter is exactly what I’m doing.

Of course I question myself: is this a lack of self-discipline? or, is this simply how I work?

Let’s change gears… fiercely.

This past Saturday I attended a local event in Collingswood. The night  was filled with glam rock at its best: big hair, David Bowie, cover bands, wigs, sparkles, lipstick, tights, capes, chest hair, etc. etc. dispersed sporadically amongst relative normality with hints of individuality.

After socializing for a bit, I felt a strong desire to go off on my own, explore, and take pictures. I entered a space so totally different from the glam rock theme… I found myself within the building’s origins: the light.darkness of the freemasons, the inherent tom-foolery of the devil.

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(The above image contains a freemason mantra – laus deo custos arcani – which roughly translates to “praise god, guardian of the arcane.”)

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I was drawn out of such depths by a friendly painter.tramp who playfully ridiculed me for getting lost in solitude amidst a social atmosphere. We talked for a bit until another friend whisked over and drew us out of our conversation into exploration. Naturally, we found an area above the general riffraff. Behind the curtains, so to speak.

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I feel a bit quirky

My house smells like lead paint and incense. A toxic tonic of smells for the breathing art of yoga.

It makes me feel rather like the Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland.

Why?

Good question.

There is a part of me that thinks the low-level of toxicity from the lead paint will destroy not only the good things in my body but the bad things as well.

But perhaps “destroy” is not the right word. Perhaps “funkify” is a better one. Whatever the word choice, I feel rather like the Mad Hatter.

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I also feel like a lantern.

Why?

Another good question.

This is a bit of a stretch, but it’s all because of the quiet bzzzzzz of the heat gun. I feel like a hermit treading in dark caverns leading my way with a heat gun. Sounds ridiculous, I know, but the lead just does something funky to my brain waves. Not to mention the daily dose of people I see. People are strange.

I like to think I’m in control, you know, of being able to filter or resist people’s influence, but I imagine this is an illusion. I’m sure I have some power over it, but at the end of the day, I am only conscious of so much. Like any normal human.

That’s another thought that’s been reoccurring: the fallibility of humans. Not one of us is perfect yet we are so quick to judge another’s imperfections (as well as our own).

Here’s another thought: the intensity of humans. We are capable of so much depth and so much far-outnesss. But how much is too much?

Personally, I feel like I’m on a threshold, which means I need to be careful, crafty, and clever. But not too crafty or too clever, because then, I might outsmart myself. And not too careful, because then, well, I wouldn’t take any risks.

I strive always for a balance, between far-outness and in-depthness, perfection and imperfection, ingesting toxins and tonics, experiencing solitude and society.

I am a Libra on the cusp of Scorpio. I am obsessed with toeing the line.

Harvest your inner child

It’s October, wan, chilly, orange-brown, dead-leafy October. And because October is the month of my birth, I’ve been relaxing a lot and taking naps on the daily. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not lazy or anything like that, there are simply seasons when I sleep more and seasons when I sleep less. Along with the Fall, the Winter is a sleepy season. I attribute my sleeping patterns to the amount of time I spend waking in the Spring and Summer.

It makes sense to me.
I follow the circular footsteps of the sun.

There are other reasons I love this time of year:

Autumn is ripe for the exploration of the imagination. It’s the time of year when the veils between worlds, waking & dreaming, living & dying, are at their thinnest – think about Halloween when we dress up as scary, ugly, sexy, funny, alter-egos, or Dia de los Muertos when we celebrate the dead, or Samhain when we honor the innate chaos of the universe.

Cultures across the globe practice similar holidays of magic.

I remember one year I spotted a vine-y winding plant growing in my backyard. I couldn’t identify it other than maybe perhaps being a squash. Around harvest time, I discovered it was a pumpkin patch! I had a genuine pumpkin patch magically sprouting to life in my backyard. I felt rather like Cinderella…

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This year for Halloween I plan on dressing up as an elf. I have a forest green cloak and a hat of similar coloring. All I need is a quiver & bow, which shouldn’t be too hard to manifest; I practiced archery back in the day, I imagine all I have to do is access that muscle memory and fffwwwiippp! I’ll draw myself to a bow.

One Hallow’s Eve in the past I dressed up as a shaman and was subsequently arrested on a train to Philadelphia. It was a whole spectacle. An officer tackled me after I refused to snub out a stick of incense. As far as I was concerned, it was part of my costume. I think the mask scared him. As well as the staff I was carrying. He later told me it was rather suspect, but I think he meant frightening.

Whatever the case, the past is the past, forgive and forget, the whole nine yards, and as a nervous fellow once told me (who by the way scared the living SHIT out of me), “I ain’t got time for no shenanigans.”

Magical creatures live through me

After spending a weekend in Provincetown and about two weeks in California, I’ve decided to let my imagination run loose with a number of magical characters.

Allow me to elaborate:

While spending a night and a couple days on top of Mt. Shasta, I felt so much like an elf.. tall, strong, intelligent, skillful, flashy.. It most definitely had something to do with blowin’ trees, the altitude, and the already existing magical lore of the mountain. The combination made for a reality alterable simply by a concentrated effort and a playful imagination. Not to mention, I found a straw hat while hitching on Highway 5, and I’ll tell you what, there must have been some magic in that old straw hat I found, because when I put it on my head I began to dance around, oh!

Photo from Harbor Square Gallery, Rockland, Maine. Didn't catch the artist name or painting title.

But that wasn’t the first time I felt like an elf. One time after a vigorous yoga practice, the teacher came over and pinched my ears in savasana, and almost instantly, I smiled inwardly with a deviousness that surprised me.

When chopping wood, I also feel my inner elf come alive.

I imagine it stems from my northern European roots. I have an inkling that my lineage and bloodline traces back to the Celts, and more specifically, the Druids.

A few other magical happenings:

One day about a year ago, I woke up to find a pair of wings had sprouted from my shoulder blades. The left one was crushed underneath my body, so naturally I unruffled it to find more comfort. As I awoke from that borderland area of waking and dreaming, I was amazed to retain the feeling of the wings and a newly acquired sense of lightness. Talk about the manifestation of subtle energies!

I drew the wings in my notebook, and without too much thinking, I sketched out a body as well. The body looked impish, which rather frightened me at first, but since then, I’ve lightly explored the nether realms of the Devil/Pan/Lucifer (I’d like to note that none of these entities are the same, but they are indeed related) to gain a better understanding of that particular impish energy.

More recently, while having a raucous good night with my girlfriend, I started seeing red until the whole of my vision was flooded with the color, and all of a sudden, I sprouted antlers! It really was quite the experience. I remember feeling possessed by Pan, and although I fought it at first, I finally ceased resisting. Only then was I given my antlers. I remember also feeling a wave of joy and ecstasy at acquiring such a gift.

So there it is… My imagination made manifest through the realm of subtle energies: antlers, wings, elven blood. What’s next?

While at Provincetown I felt quite like a pirate. Another time a friend described me as a starseed. But enough of these fantastical experiences for now. I’ll share more another time, in another post.