Point of living

May 9, 2009

I decided, that the whole point of living is actually having fun.  And all the great teachers were talking precisely about that, only the further in time, the more the message got distorted, and for centuries millions and millions were doing the suffering, imagining, that that was the instruction.

…and a teacher

April 22, 2009

Looking for a structure is linked up with a search for the spiritual teacher. I am looking. Or waiting.

Another thing which was a barrier on my way of accepting the spiritual nature of my search is my association of the word “spiritual” with all sorts of creepy sects, people with mental problems, dancing and chanting in some cellars and then setting themselves collectively on fire or such like… Well, they are out there still, but that’s not what the spirituality is about. Same way as if someone puts a beret on his head and grows a beard and assumes an absent, dreamy look on their face, that doesn’t make them an artist. Seems simple now, but took me long time to sort the things out. I am a naive peasant girl, after all!

And so, I am looking.

It is Wednesday. I feel as some resistance in me is gradually lifting up. I think I allow the destiny to take it course and allow myself to believe, that that course will be the most exciting, happy and beneficial for me and all my people. Now I can see the meaning of the events in the past. The way they each gave me a little glimpse of what I am, what my life is about.

I understand now my preferences in art and what the art is for me. And why. And understanding that gives me the acceptance of my own way. Hurah! I needn’t resist being myself any more! 🙂

So.

The art is not the goal in itself. It doesn’t have any meaning, any value of its own. The art is a tool of telling a story.

We, human beings, are constantly trying to decipher what we are in general, as human beings, and what each of us is, as a unique individual. Each life is like writing up a story. My life is writing up a story. My art is a tool of writing up a story.

I never felt that mad about art, and used to beat myself up for not being passionate enough about it. But it is fine now, no need to be passionate about something as limited as one way of art making. Because the life is much bigger than that, and to write an exciting story of a life, one mustn’t limit one-self to one form of creativity.

No use trying to squeeze myself into the trodden path, to comply, to follow the rules. I am too big for that. That’s what I didn’t realise before! I’ll shape my own path by letting myself to be…

In my 20-es I didn’t remind myself much about it, because I was busy with things, I suppose. Nowadays I think about that experience rather regurlarly, trying to figure, if it was a kind of spiritual experience like some of the people get and talk about.  What prompted me to those memories again is this: http://www.poetry-chaikhana.com/blog/category/ivans-story/ But let me tell you how I felt one Summer afternoon.