“In this magic realm where we follow our bliss and answer the strange calls of spirit which can come in the middle of night, and which are alarming and leave us uncomfortably awake, everything is somehow trustworthy”

I’m sitting here on a cushion on the floor of my apartment enjoying a cup of tea and listening to the fabulous new Nonkeen (Nils Frahm with a band) album. I’m exhausted and there is still so much to do in the coming weeks before I leave for Peru.

Tomorrow I move from the cozy little apartment I’ve lived in for the last two years here in Portland. I’ll load the last of my things into a borrowed van with the help of a good man who volunteered to help. It’s good to have a moving buddy.

I’m a Waldorf salad of strong feelings that are hard to put my finger on exactly. Moving is hard, that’s no secret, and so there is a slice of that multilayered cake on the table; planning and packing and thinking way ahead about what I’m going to need in the coming weeks and months as I travel. I’m live painting at one last festival before I leave and so I need to also plan for that on top of the move.

Meanwhile I’m also thinking about the massive weight of my decision to go to Peru for an extended period of time. That in itself is a lot to wrap my emotional, spiritual and physical head around. It would be easy to get swept downstream in the rapids of all that, but I don’t want to get overwhelmed and forget to enjoy my last few weeks here in the cushy cushy comfort zone of my home. I’m trying to be present, to live, to enjoy and to be grateful for what I have now in these last days in Portland.

In a way I wish I could stay here. Knowing that I’m going to be in humid South America makes me pay extra close attention to how much I’m going to miss my local favorite trees and climate. I’m bummed that I’m going to miss autumn here and the cooler rainy season, and then winter. I will miss most of winter here which doesn’t sound so bad if I were going to be someplace like Mexico, but Peru is no vacation when you consider the high heat and humidity and bugs and so on.

I remember what is was like to live out of a storage unit the last time I went through a major life transition thirteen years ago. I was in and out of a storage unit for over two years. Each time I was back in Seattle for a time I was hunting through boxes for a thing here and a thing there. The boxes eventually all opened and rifled through, getting increasingly disorganized and the storage unit itself becoming an absolute mess.

I’ve learned from past experience not to do that romantic thing we do where we give away all of our stuff with the illusion that it will free us. It’s not our stuff that is holding us back it is our attitude towards the stuff which traps us. It’s just stuff sure, but most of what I have are tools that I need to make things, from kitchen tools to shop tools. If I get rid of my tools the first thing I’m going to do when I get back is buy it all again! Guess what? That’s stupid and I don’t have the money to do that anyway. So I didn’t get rid of much. I actually tried to sell a bunch of things that I really didn’t need or want but no one is buying right now. So into storage it goes.

Anyhow, I’m feeling the weight of the realness of that, of being without a home again. I think it might feel different than it did 13 years ago. I’m 50 now and I crave stability and long for a place to really set up and call home, with a workshop and art studio. Instead I appear to be going the opposite direction from that. My savings is dwindling and I’m about to spend a lot of money to make this apprenticeship happen…and in these little cracks the doubt creeps in.

I have to remember how this works: In this magic realm where we follow our bliss and answer the strange calls of spirit that can come in the middle of night and which are alarming and leave us uncomfortably awake, everything is somehow trustworthy. Like a familiar space you are in when the lights go out and you are able to feel your way around in the dark because you know the physical layout well enough that you trust you won’t accidentally fall off a cliff. With all the unknowns and the magnitude of this trip, I can’t be sure that I won’t in fact fall off a cliff. But I have to trust that familiar feeling which is pulling me forward into strange territory. Don’t get me wrong, I have my share of fear and doubt but its my familiarity with this process that chases away the doubt.

So here we go again. I’m about to do another crazy life changing thing, and for the most part I don’t really know what to expect. This is not a simple thing you can just research on the internet and then go do like visiting a tourist attraction in a foreign country. This is a unique experience for everyone. I have mostly heard how difficult dieting can be, stories of people feeling like they’re literally dying for example. But I feel very much that this is what I’m supposed to do and so stories like these actually make me want to do it even more!

The doubt creeps in again when I weight the cost. I’m homeless, jobless, I’m losing my girlfriend and my community and flying way way way outside my comfort zone in all the ways possible. All that and there is no guarantee that I will find what I’m looking for. This is going to be the challenge of a lifetime, and I pray that my 50 year old body will be able to handle the stresses of the ongoing process.

After I move out of my apartment tomorrow I will immediately start to work on moving out of the Haven where I have an art studio, which is not a small task. So there’s the physical challenge of that but what’s really hitting me is how much I’m going to miss it and painting there. I’m in a painting frenzy lately and I’m a little bummed to put that in the background. I’ll bring as many art supplies as possible to Peru and hopefully I’ll have the capacity to work while I’m there. Who knows, the experience may pave the way to an incredible new chapter in my creative development. Or I could be so knocked over from exhaustion that I can’t work at all. I’m also a little worried I’ll forget some vital tool or run out of Paynes grey in the art supply desert of Iquitos.

No matter how well stocked I am, it won’t be the same thing as working in the comfort of my own studio. It’s going to be extremely limiting, and perhaps that will be the best thing for me to find a new creative line. Limitations are where creativity is really born from. Yes, I think that’s what will effect my work the most is the limits and challenge of being in a little tombow in the jungle of Peru, hunched under mosquito netting, sweating my ass off, delirious from tobacco juice and eating very little food, trying to find my creative flow and make a painting. Sounds romantic!

Anyhow, here I am now, still in my little apartment in Portland. Everything is boxed up and stacked against the walls. Total disarray. The Bluetooth speaker is the last thing to go in a box, aside from the pots and pans for breakfast in the morning.

I’m still struggling to describe my emotional state right now. What is winning in me, is it excitement, fear, doubt, regret for the loss of my comfortable life here in Portland? Maybe a bit of all of these things, and more? It feels like a lot, it is a lot, and yet I’m a little numb too. I don’t have time to think about it too hard or I’ll loose the momentum I need to get on that plane in September. Honestly I wish I could leave tomorrow. I’m glad that I’m taking my time getting there and leaving plenty of time to exit Portland proper, but I’m done with the transition phase already. I’m excited to get started with the work, and maybe that is my answer to “what emotion is winning in me”, it’s excitement. I’m excited about the future and where all of this will lead. I’m excited to return next year and reintegrate into life in Portland. I’m excited to integrate all that I may learn into my life, and creative practice. Let’s do this!

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Thank you for reading this overly long report about my experience getting ready for this crazy life event I’m facing. Feel free to comment below if any of this resonates with you. Also take time to browse my art if you feel inclined. Cheers!

technology of plants, consciousness, — Technology of Plants

All Points Vanishing

The Road to Iquitos Part 2: Faith and Courage