A Soul of An Artist Might Be Hiding Within Me

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A Soul of An Artist Might Be Hiding Within Me...

A while ago, that is once upon more than a decade, I got on a plane. The word destiny was stuck on it. That plane was deploying me on the Land of the Mabeyn, the in-between: Bosphorus, to me, the Strait of Life and the Portal I’d cross every now and then, to breathe in and out, petals of friendship, of family, of communication, but most importantly, of being, being myself. As bizarre as that might sound, in the here and now. The city of Istanbul holds the thread of commencement of my walking my way, or my road forward, to Damascus, as I like to call it.

That plane was planting on a lane that hadn’t been walked before. It couldn’t have been walked before. Because it was my corridor… the corridor of my being. This has been my part of the deal.

And it is on this lane called "this is your path, no one else can walk it for you” that I have gone on multiple colorful adventures.

It is on this lane that I have been urged, oftentimes, even forced to dive into the fountain of my being. Same old story: there was nowhere else to go!

Henceforth, while inhabiting myself… three!

Three times did the fountain of my being spring into drops of … Art?

-80

1. El Flamenco

It is during these moments of in-between, at the Straight of Life, that happenings, feelings, and unforeseen magical miracles come through and true, quite oft, from the Least Expected corners, places, or people.

As such, it is while walking in Istanbul, that I looked and lost myself in the Bosphorus when the idea sprang from the fountain of myself:

I’d better hit the floor and learn El Flamenco.

Thought and done!

No sooner had I searched for it than the classes of el flamenco crossed by… The fountain of my being has also revealed other details, as well: Al Midan.

There are leg movements resembling those of horses in El Flamenco. And guess what?

Al Midan, the first neighborhood of Damascus close to the Citadel of Damascus is where my father stems from.

I, instead, stem from Al Jazeera 5, Mashrou3 Dummar, the Island of Rose NO.5, that is from the Rose, the Damascene Rose.

In the very beginning, Al Midan used to be a maidan for horse races, and later on, for oratory and public speaking.

Are you thinking what I am thinking of?

I am feeling: Maidan of Self Expression…

Horses and Oratory are about being a Free Spirit. My passion for el flamenco must have stemmed from there. Or, from a past lifetime. I don’t know of any family member, of any grand grandmother to have danced el flamenco.

And… now that I am writing about it, I am thinking that it is quite ”memorable" for me to remember that I had flamenco classes, once a week, every Friday for 3 months.

I’d celebrate the end of the week by going to El Flamenco.

Nevertheless, I’d have plenty of time even when classes got canceled, on Friday evenings.

Back in Bucharest, undergoing a divorce, I’d take all the fury, the raging anger, and frustration and turn it into …a better time through El Flamenco, that is the power of the heart.

I was lucky to find classes (permanent) in Istanbul and from time to time, in Bucharest.

A beautiful coincidence though, the first Flamenco classes I took in Bucharest were conducted by Ms. Rosa, Rose — in English!

Later on, I could even stumble into the King of Flamenco, as he is known in Bucharest, an Argentinian himself, and have some classes with him, too.

That is until forces of “enlightenment” intervened, leaving me without a teacher.

A stalker by the story-name Rafael had "made sure” I’d be deprived of those classes, too.

You see… he’d been into me. And being into a Lady who says: "NO!", at times, can mean harassing her… according to some men’s capabilities. My word, gentlemen in motion!

In the here and now, when I am living the best epoque of my life, I look forward to playfully hitting the floor, with love and life, turning the moment even more alive than it already is.

As Mrs. Maya Angelou describes it, so beautifully, in her unique
manner:
"You should be angry. You must not be bitter. (…) So use that anger.

(I add: fury, resentment, frustration, loneliness, rejection, abandonment, any negative feeling one might have and transform it:)

"You write it. You paint it. You dance it. You march it." You work it.
"You vote it. You do everything about it. You talk it. Never stop talking it.”

So I believe that, as far as I am concerned, the best is yet to be danced through…

And No! I have had no idea dance could be so good a therapy and alchemy — spirit, mind, and soul.

I have only gotten to learning it, on my way. So whatever soothes our souls and hearts, that's what we ought to make sure we sneak into our lives.

Even if ... for short moments of time.

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“Inside you, there's an artist you don't know about… say yes quickly, if you know, if you've known it from before the beginning of the universe.'” — Rumi

2. Writing

No sooner the same "Force of Enlightenment" previously mentioned had intervened with my company via a "remote control", verily my source of income that is, than I took the moment and turned it into mere magic:

my dearest, I shut the system of my company down. Not without previously retrieving the three major pillars:

My Spirit: the “I am” that I am, the basis of the system,

the Seeds of Roses: this storyboard of mine, verily, the oasis of roses — Damascene Rose, and

the Mind: the professional presentation board of mine, which for now is on hold.

And, as I was sitting on the couch of my being, in the summer of ’19, contemplating a decade long past and gone, closed in the cave of time, I asked my Higher Self:

“What now?”

Hence, my Higher Self responded:

“You speak 6  languages. Go express yourself. Write! You have always dreamed of writing."

Circumstances and survival mode hadn’t allowed for it. It had only gotten me a decade to step out of the swamp of narcissism triggered by a narcissistic mum, the infinite stream of cross-cultural cognitive dissonance, the sweeping hurricane of demands, of the " I expect it all…in no return!”.

Indeed, my Higher Self took my hand, placed a fountain pen in it, and ever since I have been writing almost every single day.

Furthermore, Ink, too, had sprung from the fountain of my being.

Today, I write for the sheer joy of writing. And this storyboard has it that I have created this oasis of roses ... to lively "urge" myself to -- Write!

And that, my dearest, that! gives me bubbly happiness. Though, most of the time, I feel as if I were making a fool out of myself, I enjoy writing. So much! 

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3. Photography

… I love walking. I have needed it like I have needed the water of roses. To me, walking is in more than 90% of the cases the passage to feeling good, being creative, or bringing about solutions.

I have walked more than 1 987 660 in the past year. And I will… I will go on walking. While my eyes have indulged in the amazing nature, instances of this state of awe have gotten photographed.

Years passed, between a few breaths.

A few weeks ago, I read an e-mail I had sent to the photographer with whom I had done the last photo session for my professional website, the one on hold as I speak.

It was 2015 when I had written him an e-mail asking him where I could take up photography classes…

And so it follows that planting intentions in the ocean of possibilities, as Mr. Deepak Chopra advises, for sure works wonders.

You never know when one is to harvest the planted seeds.

7 years later, my intention bloomed. Nowadays, I walk... photo camera by my side, most of the time.

My being has always urged me to plant seeds of roses. It’s how I function! It’s how I manifest! Hence, giving myself the space and time to breathe and be, has enabled me to take up a course in photography. The universe has had my back, big time, too! I shall care to dedicate a post to this endeavor... at least, a post.

This story is open." I am” is a story in progress. I don’t know where my steps will lead me, this time. Somewhere mind-blowingly unexpected, perhaps?

Make no doubt about it, I am swimming in this aforementioned 1,2,3 river and I'm turning it into a way of life.

And that’s a - Giant Oleeeeeeeeeeeee(y)!

*

... and, having said that, I am thinking out loud:

the soul of an artist might be hiding within…me, after all?

 

And, how about...the treasures hiding within you?

Photos: Pinterest 

2nd one: 🎨Daniel F. Gerhartz, 2018
I Am Yours, You Are Mine.

(Note: The gentleman from the painting is missing in this post. I shall care to add the second half of the painting in a separate post.)

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