I’m currently at an artist residency called Craigardan in the Adirondacks. It is a non-profit committed to interdisciplinary learning offering creative residencies, community programs and a community farm. It has been such an incredible gift to settle in for two weeks of communing with this land, this place, this space and my inner being.
Leading up to my experience here, I had a sense that my time here would be focused on a few things. Firstly exploring the inquiry of “Who am I as an artist?” Secondly, integrating all of the various parts of me and all that I have grown into these past years. Finally, just being with myself and experiencing my inner world in this setting and at this moment in my life. I was feeling disorganized and lost within myself and I knew that this would be a time to be with that feeling and explore who I am and how I feel.
I arrived on Monday afternoon and settled into my one person cabin with just a bed and a desk overlooking a glorious mountain range. Craigardan is situated on Hurricane Mountain which I immediately took as a sign that I would be journeying through storms within and without. From that moment, I set out to be in the thick of whatever hurricane needed to come through. After getting acquainted with my new home, we sat down for a community meal prepared lovingly by the staff, a monday night tradition. We introduced ourselves around the table while we shared a delicious feast of vegetables grown on the farm down the hill.
The next morning was farm volunteer hours so I walked the woodland trail that connected the residence to the farm. The path split in two and not knowing which way to go, I took the path to the right. This spit me back out onto the gravel driveway. Although barefoot, I continued onward, feeling the stones pressing against my feet with each step. Eventually I met the main road and walked on the warmed morning pavement. I finally found myself at the farm, put my shoes and sunscreen on and got to work.
It’s interesting how our internal state of being influences our experience of the external world. I arrived at Craigardan in a disoriented state. I had just had a few weeks of emotional ups and downs and challenging encounters with my partner, my father and myself. Feeling a bit ungrounded, I knew I was being invited to face the place in me that both wants everyone to leave me alone and also struggles with the fear of feeling alone and helpless. While this was a powerful way for me to begin a journey into the wilderness for two weeks, it also felt difficult because I would be spending time amidst other people. Something that brings up discomfort and shame for me is when I am feeling fear or insecurity and I have to be around people. It brings up a feeling of needing to be in some state that I’m not in, the belief that I need to mask, the feeling of self protection. This of course also disconnects me from the flow of love and joy that I so delight in when I’m meeting and connecting with people…Anyway…
I find myself on the farm and I’m feeling timid. I ask the farm manager, Maya, how to interact with the chickens. Will they peck at me? How do I retrieve their eggs? I observed this angst in myself with some humor given I used to tend a flock of 6 chickens in my backyard just a few years ago.
Later, I was shown the process of skirting wool. I was excited to try a new task I had never experienced. Essentially, the process is picking straw and bits of material out of the wool to prepare it for the next phase of becoming yarn. I get so much joy out of mundane, grounding tasks like this, especially those rooted in so much history. Imagining all the people who have gathered around a table of wool and skirted it in community with each other brought a feeling of comfort to me. However, as I began, I found myself completely stressed by the process. I began to feel obsessive, pulling at what felt like an absolutely endless amount of grass and dirt. I expressed my frustration that it felt like there was no way to ever be done with any section. I contemplated this state of my being. I knew, as with everything, that my experience of reality was a reflection of my inner state. I could not find the patience or calm to keep going.
The experience here has been amazing. The experience within myself has been up and down and all around. The first few days, I hiked mountains and sang, meditated, cried, called on my spirit guides, and thought about things obsessively. At times creative inspiration came through. I swam in a few swimming holes. I sat outside my cabin staring at the mountains for countless hours allowing the energy of the winds and the land to wash over me. I watched bees and butterflies kiss the fields of clover. I interacted with folks and felt surges of invisibility and connection. I learned and was inspired by experiencing others on their journey. What a compilation!
I also grappled with this place in me that doesn’t believe in myself, know who I am, or feel like I am special enough for this world. This is one of my most humbling states of being. It’s a place that I conjure that is the place of stuckness, like a fly in a spider web, writhing to get out but only further ensnaring itself. Other parts of me would never need to question my offering or who I am. But this part of me is a familiar friend that takes over my inner sanctuary until the other places in me find a way to call this part into loving relationship and the love and care it needs.
Yesterday, I got to a point where I was driving myself crazy. I was worrying about my life and trying to figure out something about it. What am I doing? How do I communicate this to people? Why am I all over the place? I felt utterly stuck and in the mire. I typed ideas and words on google docs and sheets of paper only to realize, I already know who I am and who I am becoming. This search, this question isn’t about finding a new answer.
Last night, a new cohort of artists arrived. I sat across from a woman, Shawndel Fraser, who shared that she is an environmental psychologist. She owned who she was in the world and what she offered with such truth, fullness and mundanity that I was moved. She was so simply committed to her work to transform and heal the world. I, like her, am working to be a healer who works with individuals and communities in one on one, workshop and retreat settings. I, like her, am an interdisciplinary artist. As we talked, I shared my feelings with her of the fear that challenges me in owning the fullness of who I am. She offered some encouraging words to me as I teared up. She reminded me to practice gratitude because fear is partly buying into a false reality where the universe isn’t constantly abundant and bringing everything you need. I felt what she offered deeply. My life always and continues to unfold in a way that feels blessed and abundant. Beyond this state of fear, I know the utter gratitude and wonder of wow my life is unfolding! Even this experience at Craigardan arrived at the right moment and I knew I had to say yes. Who I am has always been an unfolding mystery to experience and express gratitude for.
The second thing she offered was to focus on my satisfaction. There is a place that intersects with what the world needs and what we each have to offer where satisfaction will arise and in that place you know you have found your true calling. I’ve learned this before and forgotten. The soul’s calling is the place where your true joy lives.
Going to bed, I felt so grateful that this woman had shown up on this day and given me the next message and reminder that I needed to hear. Her words created the space for me to invite that part of me into relationship with all of the rest of me and I spent the evening tending my feelings and holding this place in me that feels scared and lost.
This morning, Tuesday, I went back to the farm. I walked through the woods, over the stream and went straight to helping with the chickens. I seeded some rows of lettuce and finally, I skirted the wool. I felt relaxed. I enjoyed the process. I pulled one piece of straw out at a time and moved on from a section before driving myself crazy. The work felt manageable and it actually helped ground me.
It’s powerful how our states of being influence our experience. And it’s notable that even with noticing, we can’t always stop the storm that is in process. We may not know what will shift the storm, or how we will tend ourselves during this time. But the blessing of it all is that it is a shifting, flowing mystery to be in relationship with.
