On Art and Congregation (a poem I channeled/wrote with my RealMe)

Sometimes when I write, shit just comes through.

That’s when it’s best. There’s a certain kind of ecstasy of being really truly “in the zone” and feeling all that creativity shoving its way through you until your hands can barely keep up, like there’s fire in your fingers. Like you have to put out the inferno roaring through your insides with physical motion or you’ll be immolated from within. Sometimes the words scream themselves into your mind until everything else wobbles out into a low hum. You’re driven. You’re possessed.

That’s when it’s magic. Real fucking magic. But I’ve always thought of creativity as magic.

After all, what could be more wondrous than putting something into the world that never existed before? It’s a high fucking calling. And it’s way more important than so many of us growing up in this crappy capitalist world were told.

How many of us were actively discouraged from following our hearts as they tugged us toward art, writing, theater, music, you fucking name it and instead pushed us toward the “sure thing” — get the degree, get the job, 9 to 5 until you drop because that makes you a grown-up? Art is for the wealthy and idle and losers who don’t want “real jobs.” Making things is a “waste of time.”

Utter. Bullshit.

And we all know that deep inside. That art in ALL its forms — even if your art is knowing how to make the perfect cup of coffee for your best friend while she sits at your kitchen table and tells you about her shitty day, or doing wild shit with numbers on a whiteboard, or being the health care worker who always takes the extra time to make sure their patients feel truly cared for, or singing shit or drawing shit or writing shit or making shit in all the kajillion ways possible — is what we were put here to do, not just something to fuck around with in the meantime.

The funny thing is, when I sat down to make this post and share what I’ve written, I didn’t plan on writing any of this. And yet it all came through. Which makes me think someone needs to hear it, even if that’s just me, reading it back to myself and checking it for inevitable typos.

So maybe I’ll just add that if you’re out there staring at that stack of canvases in the corner while you doomscroll, or spend the drive home from work every day crying in your car because you know you’re meant for so much more … I see you.

This shit isn’t easy. Art is vulnerable. That’s why it matters. Because we use it to heal each other and ourselves, to wake all of us up, to reach out and touch something Beyond.

But of course life is full of bills and dying loved ones and sudden changes in life situations. All we can do is our best. Maybe you can’t make Your Shit right this minute, and that’s okay too.

And there’s no harm in just trying stuff and seeing what sticks. Maybe it’ll suck. But you never have to show anyone, AND if you’re willing to suck at something long enough, eventually you can get really fucking good.

I’m really lucky because I grew up in a home that, while being extremely rigid in other ways, allowed for my creativity. I’ve been drawing since before I could hold the pencil correctly. I’ve been writing since I learned to read.

Of course I have also worked a couple of super shitty, crying in your car on the way home jobs. Who among us, heh.

Anyway …

I wrote this piece yesterday while listening to 852 Hz, and its almost exactly as it came through me. Two words got swapped around in translation, so I fixed that, but other than that, this is a poem that I whispered in my own ear yesterday …

~

CONGREGATION

Let Us Meet

Inside the trees …

Between the waves …

On the undersides of clouds …

Let Us Be One

In the Inner Space,

Our Holiest of Holies,

That sacred spot

Inside Us all

Where only We can go …

Let Us see inside Our own eyes

Without ever needing a mirror.

Let Us Be One

With All and with Each Other.

My Guiding Light …

My True North Star …

I am Thine and

Thou art Mine.

One Heart beats

Inside the Other.

Father,

Mother,

Sister,

Brother …

I am You,

You are Me.

And We are Both

All these to Me.

Let US meet here.

LET US BE.

~

I decided to post this because I feel deeply it was meant for this community. I hope something in my words resonated. I am so happy and grateful for the opportunity to contribute here, and I hope all of you are having a lovely and restful weekend!

Love and Light to you all,

Asteria

“What are you going to do with your one wild and precious life?” — Mary Oliver