homage to my past

We all have a past. This is mine. I wanted to honor this part of my life by acknowledging it. In hindsight, it wasn’t that bad—it was my path to freedom. It was my path to breaking unconscious patterns and practicing my right to choose. Some might argue if these were the right choices, but these were my choices. And who are they to say what’s right for another!

It was a different world. There was no internet, no cellphones and no Google’s instant answers to one’s questions. There were weeks and months of library research, following dead ends. Then there was the dragging of physical portfolios around the city subway and meeting one person at a time who would either believe in my art, reject it, or direct me to somebody else.

Some of you tell me that I am brave and that it took courage.

But I’d say that the biggest motivator of all is desperation. Paired with the desire to create a better life for someone you love can make you unstoppable.

I wanted my son to have a better life. Nothing would move you faster than to see your child hungry when you are the only person who provides for him. So I used my desperation as a fuel for my drive to give him a better start in life than I had.

In the process I clarified my vision for what I wanted in life, I strenghtened my character and I tested what I was capable of.

As one of my teachers, Brendon Burchard, says: “You come here to become.”

New York City was the alchemical caldron, in which I was being transformed, learning what I’m made of, who I can be, and who I would like to become.

I’ve talked about my failures many times. I failed regularly. Why else would I pivot so many times, in search of truth and fulfillment!

In this post I didn’t want to busy my mind with what didn’t work. I wrote this piece to honor an important part of me that was transformed and assigned a new function. It had shaped me in significant ways, and is now helping me to assist others in finding their way through.

I bow to who I was, in order to fully be who I am today.

The artist in me taught me many things. I usually honor my teachers and treat them with respect.

The artist in me taught me to observe carefully and find the connection between seemingly unrelated things. She taught me to stay fully present and to pay attention to what is here and now. She taught me balance, devotion, trusting my intuition and uniting my heart and my mind.

She often connected me to higher realms and transported me into other dimensions. She provided direct access to the Divine. I often stated that “I only hold the brush.” And it certainly felt true most of the times. This knowing helped me to let go of judgments. (Trust me, I had many.)

I remember when I lived in India and people asked me what I do. I’d tell them that I am an artist and they’d exclaim: “You sit next to God!” Some would even kneel in front of me and touch my shoes as a sign of reverence. At first it was shocking. I was used to a different reaction in the States—when asked what I do and I’d answer that I am an artist, the immediate response was “Yes, yes, but what do you do for a living?” The hidden belief was that artists have to do something else to survive because art cannot provide the necessities.

Lucky for me, I never bought into the “starving artist” archetype. Art history knows many examples of artists who supported themselves and their families with their art, and quite a few who made a fortune. At an early age I had made the firm decision that I will be one of the artists who live well. Over the years I stood by this decision.

People often ask me if I miss being an artist. I don’t. Because I gave it my all. Because I lived it fully—the good, the bad, the magnificent and the difficult. I got a taste of the glamour and I sat in the pits of depression. I experienced the high of creating and the fright of being stuck in dead ends. I lived in uncertainty and I listened to merciless self-doubts.

And I learned.

I learned to trust my choices and to believe in myself. I learned to be patient with myself and to trust each moment. I learned to recognize the voice of my intuition and the voice of my saboteurs. I learned to take action when necessary and to stay still when needed. I learned to draw healthy boundaries and drop my defenses. I learned to accept and honor every part of myself—the ones I approved of and the ones I disliked. I learned that I cannot fully shine my light if I was afraid of my darkness. I learned to love both. Sometimes :)

And I am still learning to be kind to myself in my self-talk and to maintain what I have learned in this wonderful gift called Life.