A Karma Kinda Girl

I am a karma centered kinda girl.  I believe every action has an equal reaction and ripple effect in the world.  I have come to a place in my life where I can see where I have been, where I am going, and how karma has influenced every step of my journey.  I am a pacifist at heart. I believe in the greater good inside people, and I have honed the skills to reject negativity in my life. But it wasn't an easy road to get here.  And lately I am bothered by what karma road The Secret Project will forge.

This past week was a creative hiatus.  A self-meditating week when no Hand of Bela Peck studio work was done and all means of writing were suspended.  Just fun, low thought projects and mind cleansing thrifting.  This is how I seek clarity when questions of karma arise, waiting patiently for the universe to respond.  The Secret Project often calls karma onto the wrestling mat and I have to get tangled up in the sticky questions.  How does one create a true depiction of events that will hurt others while simultaneously trying to remain objective? What if the greater good demands the condemnation of the action of others?  And how does one tell a story and not be called a liar by the opposing side?  Is the result worth the risk?

Speaking with my project advisor yesterday, we discussed the karma question in terms of what I fear I could lose in completing the work.  There were only two things on the loss list and they turned out to be things I lost years ago.  The gain list was significant and went on through laughter, light bulb moments, and a higher hope for the greater good.  I know the potential benefits far outweigh the risk. Bravely, I will push on.

 

Creative hiatus is over.  Time to get back to work :)

 

LOVE  &  THE SECRET PROJECT

The Secret Project: An Observation

My writing has always gotten me into trouble.  Love notes intercepted in middle school, petty girl fights, party promises and late night ranting.  I just loved my pen and paper so much that I overcame the feared school counselor or the inevitable parent-teacher call.  Blah blah blabbity blah, I was in hot water...again. But despite the content, no one ever told me my ramblings were poorly written.  Guess there's something to be said for that small victory.

 Through my teen years I honed my talent to code meaning and avoid those embarrassing confrontations with authority.  I never wanted to be without my voice- or to curtail what I was saying because no one wanted to bear witness to the ugliness of adolescence.  I bought pretty books in which to put my thoughts, as if one would balance the other.  Ugly versus pretty. Truth be told my journals held all the unpleasantries of my formative years but they were contained inside pretty wrappers that looked lovely on a shelf.  Perhaps more symbolic of the real me than any vulgarity spelled out on a page.  We all have trials, things that happen to us, good and bad.  It's how we react to events that shape who we become.

I always knew I had a quirky dark side.  Most artists and writers do.  It is the give and take for talent.  I find it odd that darkness in the mature artist is celebrated, contemplated and theorized over, yet darkness in a child is not a welcome sign of a creative soul. Or is it the suffering in silence that turns a young soul into the artistic kind? As a child, I masked my trials and experiences. I coded them into all those pages with pretty covers.  Though I tried to voice them to the adults in my life, no one really wanted to hear it. But for years my codes have wanted to be revealed for what they really are: A triumphant will for survival.  No longer a secret but a story. A way to give tragedy an opportunity to heal. Not just for my own healing, but for so many others as well, artists or not. 

My writing has always gotten me into trouble.  Why should I stop now? 

LOVE  &  SECRET PROJECTS