Transformation

I read a blog post the other day from a woman who confessed she was having trouble owning herself as an artist. I totally get that. I think of myself as someone who engages in self-expression, rather than as an Artist. But somehow reading her story got me thinking about artistic endeavors in my life and the transformative power unleashed. Creative expression is enormously healing. So for Steven's meme today on Transformational Moments, I offer this account.

Back a few years ago, when I separated from my ex (he of yesterday's post), I floundered as you might expect. My life had focused on loving this man, mothering our children, trying to anticipate and meet my husband's and kids' every need. The "Me" I was intended to be had grown shadowy and vague, like the colors in photographs taken long ago. I had taken all responsibility for the success of our relationship and that meant I had to shoulder all the blame for his repeated misdeeds, at least in my mind which clearly thought I was omnipotent. I was really accomplished at berating myself for not being able to salvage what was for my soul-self so obviously a train wreck. And I have to admit to being amazed that some wise woman who'd been locked inside me for years finally took over and told him to get out, that he'd blown his final chance.

After the shock of my proclamation and his subsequent departure wore off, the obsessive thoughts began. No matter how much I wanted to, I really couldn't stop listening to those malevolent voices in my head, the ones so dedicated to keeping me stuck in feeling bad. Nor could I understand why what was happening was happening and it felt quite falsely that if I only knew the WHY of it, it would be easier to accept and move on.

Some therapy aimed at addressing post-traumatic stress disorder helped a bit, but monkey mind would stop its chatter only for a few hours after a session. Then the racket would start again until the mean monkeys were screeching at a fever pitch. That only gave me a new opportunity: I began to feel bad about feeling bad. Why couldn't I get a grip on myself ? Why didn't I just let go and get over it?

Interestingly, after the crying subsided, I took stock and realized that I had a lot more creative energy. At the time, I didn't understand why it started to bubble up, but I welcomed it with open arms. My concern was how to use it, not where it came from. Unlike traumatic times in the past, writing in a journal held no appeal for me. It felt like wallowing, not healing. I couldn't concentrate long enough to string poems together. I knew intuitively that I had to transform my angst into something else, something healing. But what? And how could I get those damn monkeys to shut up?

I started playing with photographs, teaching myself the basics of Photoshop and Microsoft Digital Image Pro. I learned to manipulate images I'd taken in France and Italy, using filters to turn them into soft, impressionistic recollections. I shared them with my psychologist, who by

"Gondolier Apparitions" copyright 2004/2005 Meri Arnett-Kremian.
All rights reserved. In private collection.

that time, was working with me on learning to honor my intuition and being fully myself. (The image above is all about spirit and guides. Click on the image to see all the unexpected apparitions that just showed up.) Rosalie told me it was time that I had some artistic mentoring and waved a brochure for a painting class at me.

"A Tribute to Monet" copyright 2004 Meri Arnett-Kremian.
Collection of Jefri and Gene Twiner.

So, an already too-long, boring story made longer, through a series of amazing coincidences that worked against my substantial resistance, I ended up painting for two weeks straight. Me, who had never painted anything except a wall. For two weeks, all day long, I was immersed in the colors and shapes of abstract painting, letting my juiciness leak out and play on canvas. And yes, I did a bunch of paintings. Some were even gifts from the universe, like the one at the bottom -- the second or third painting I ever did. But the transformational aspect was discovering that when I was in flow, the monkeys left.

"Orbiting Bodies" copyright 2004 Meri Arnett-Kremian.

They were left brain monkeys. Left brain monkeys are denied entrance to right brain activities.

And though I needed to engage my left brain for logical-sequential functions, making time to fully immerse myself in the creative process and letting it take me where it chose was a way to get a vacation from the incessant screeching of mean monkeys. As I honored the creative impulse more and more, making space for it in my life, I discovered the monkeys had grown quite subdued. They've been replaced by the much kinder, gentler voice of my Soul Self, my intuition.

"Celestial Whispers" copyright 2004. Meri Arnett-Kremian.