To walk the artist path takes many lifetimes.
For me, meandering its many twists and turns has been a metaphorical burning at the stake. Yes, I know; so fucking macabre. But the marrow of that which no longer serves me must die, a cleansing by fire. Hate then becomes love. Thus, a phoenix soars from the ashes of my inner critic’s toxicity.
So why do I further advance down this road? Each step is a fiery communion with a force much greater than myself — a force felt between heartbeats; a force seen just below the surface of my reflection; a force that co-creates with me on a regular basis.
For after the bonfire, when all that’s left is ash, beauty arises from its compost. This wild hearth is the awen of my words and images … as above, so below.