But before I even drew a scribble of chalk on the driveway, picked up a crayon, before I could speak, I felt a spiritual connection that transcends language. I knew I was never alone. I couldn't say exactly why or how I knew and even now I struggle to describe it as perhaps angels, God, beings of some sort. I had a knowing and a direct wisdom in my body. Growing up in steel mill dominated blue collar belt of Northwest Indiana, my knowing was channeled into a Catholic upbringing. My parents, as divorced people couldn't receive any sacraments so they didn't go to church much. I took myself and very often dragged my younger siblings with me, walking the 1/2 mile on many a Sunday. I loved the smells, the security, the consistency and the familiar feeling of protection and love that was always near to me. Praying was fun I thought. My relationship with Spirit has always guided my decisions and given me peace during the most difficult times of my life. I easily combined the love of art and kept my spiritual connection in the background in the years spanning early adulthood, diaper changing and teenager dramas with artistic pursuits always as the goal. But in 2009 after finishing an internship for the public art certificate, a unrest inside me that had begun years before had gotten so loud I couldn't ignore it. I started to feel like the artist's ideal life didn't make me happy. That didn't seem possible. My ambitions that drove me like an obsession for years were evaporating and I couldn't figure it out. I didn't accept this unrest as anything but distraction and self-sabotage. If I was to fulfill my dream of being a successful artist I needed to ignore my weak will and work harder, make my website more appealing, push my self on social media, promote, etc. The nagging noise was just resistance to hard work, laziness I said to myself. When one day I met with a psychic and he put a little seed in my head that changed my life. He said that what I needed the art for was over. I had used it as a therapeutic tool all my life to express my feelings without even knowing it. The dream artist life I had built was squeezed of all its lessons. That resonated with me.
Meanwhile I had been attending group Adult Children of Alcoholics meetings and scoured countless self-help books for decades to heal myself. I had grown. Not that creating art was immature or childish but actually a necessary part of my survival. It enriched my life to a massive degree and still does but with a little embarrassment I'll admit that the intense need for fame and attention for my art was gone. Around this time I was watching TV and heard someone say, "Habits make the man". What you do is what you are, regardless of what you think you are, your actions describe your true nature. I realized the psychic actually was right. I became acutely aware that whenever I had a free minute I picked up books on astrology, metaphysical topics, past lives or whatever. I didn't pick up a pencil to draw in my spare time anymore. I allowed myself to look at the possibility that I would change my path. The imagined lifestyle I built up in my head may not fulfill me like I planned so many years before.
I accepted that persistent inner calling that brought me to embrace that old passion for all things spiritual and to learn about subconscious work, specifically hypnotherapy. It immediately felt like home and now I see that it's an important gift. My creative urges are now channeled into my writing, developing plans for clients or house projects. Eventually creative expression workshops will combine everything, crossing my fingers and toes. I know I can help clients find the relief they are looking for but my route has sure taken some twists. BUT the nutty thing is now I have been getting calls for large murals again and if they are good I take them. My sense is that they will fade away like a dream over time. There's no pressure at this point however and that is what makes them more enjoyable. The emphasis now is on my healing business and that's where it'll stay, that's what the beings tell me anyway.
My March forecast is not published due to a couple commissions and I find myself drawn (ha! no pun intended) into artistic expression again like hanging out with an old friend who knows your history and doesn't judge. I am a decent artist and it's fun to create I guess that's the total of it. It gave me such joy, but now I find it lacks the depth I used to experience. No excuses here. I am human and like you I get completely befuddled at times when my path goes in a direction I didn't expect. There are no rules on how I or you should expect to go. For me I will follow my heart.
And I suggest you do the same.
Many Blessings
Diane