What is the Sacred function of the Artist?


We as Human beings come in many shapes and forums, many talents, skill-sets, and a multifaceted mindset collectively filled with all the tools it takes to build a culture that sustains and celebrates all that is alive; or once was – and on another level still is. Some of us identify as Artists.

We cannot afford to waste these human gifts – some in the midst of fading in to “the nothing” through lack of use. We urgently need to learn how to nurture the creative nature; not be consumptive of it. This Balance of magic and science, of masculine and feminine, of Darkness and Light; this will save us from oblivion.

Creatives are at an all time high risk for mental illness; in particular Depression (I can vouch for that personally) and according to Psychologists it -at least partially- stems from “a problem with filtering or gating the many stimuli that flow into the brain.” For this reason some Writers, Artists, and Musicians craft their lives in order to be isolated from human contact for prolonged periods of time.
But what if there were people taught and put in to the esteemed position of nurturing those wandering in their art’s pilgrimage?
Not seeing them with pity as the “Mentally Ill” but with respect as the Mentally Courageous.
What if it didn’t have to be done alone? What if it was never supposed to be that way to begin with?

Depression is never an sudden onset – rather with a molasses approach so slow that it tends to sneak up on us; as it “it just suddenly happened”. Depression rather is a process that begins with a denying or refusing to acknowledge painful and difficult feelings; laced with the stigma of weakness we are taught to sink or swim. Depression is usually triggered by a significant trauma; whether self aware or not, or a reoccurring trauma. Of which often leaves us feeling “different”, “Lonely”, “weird” (lets face it If being creative means being “odd” to some extent) or as a whole “UNSEEN”.

Through this we develop defence mechanisms and “walls” that keep us from fully expressing and processing our grief, and as such from fully stepping in to ourselves because we -and our gifts- are not outright held and honoured by a community. Sure there are often spikes of praise and admiration – but those don’t always lead to worthiness and social standing – beyond plastic transient celebrity status. We become terminally independent and gravely reluctant to trust anyone (even those we claim to and desire desperately to trust). As such this sense of worthiness ebbs and flows far too much to build credence or a solid foundation underneath it. So it shatters, again and again.

These consistencies in denying painful and difficult feelings lead to a significant struggle in being able to identify pleasant and positive feelings; or the deep sorrow that is needed to work through our shadows. And then a struggle to feel them at all.
So comes the “dead inside” feeling (if you can call it a feeling at all) – a neither here nor there; neither positive or negative state of being that harbours no space for inspiration; progression, and go ground to sow the seeds of love – externally or internally.

So we crave the small bits of validation and attention that feed us – then we will purge them at the first sign of dependance; we seek that of which we have no lived experience of. And we remember; only through pure ancestral reminiscence and perhaps blind faith that it must have existed once, that there must have been a time or place where everyone was honoured and seen in their individual way.
For clarities sake when I say seen, I mean not in a hierarchal fashion but as a small part of a larger story; as something of value outside of the instant soup, vending machine; jukebox broken culture that houses us now.

We as artists lament these feelings in our work, the only way we know how to and still be heard. Even if we don’t mean to; we subconsciously leave ourselves bread crumbs of recognition and recollection – not just for our own benefit but for those in our wake; as well as for those others around us that cannot step in to and digest the darkness that we do
– From behind the veil of what is corporeal and physically tangible we bring back for them (even if we don’t mean to) what they could not fathom gathering. We bring back philosophy, and stories, we bring back song and dance, we bring new vision. We bring these gifts back from a place so obscure, so wild and treacherous that in the midst of it all – we often lose ourselves there

And for what?

Because of some level, we remember the sacred task of the artist. And on some level we long to be held within that task as perhaps we once were.

So until then we wait – we build foundations and journey on in the wild untamed imagination; half blind and half mad – we wait.

– AppleCat​

Art Credit: http://loulin.deviantart.com/art/The-storyteller-s-cave-183758287


Rules to Life (Mine at least)


-Be creative, keep making art; if you think you’ve become unartistic then find a different medium. If you can’t make are, facilitate and encourage other peoples art.

-Be kind but not a doormat; be aware of people and yourself. Those who don’t respect kindness are not worth your time. Kindness and Fierceness are the most potent combination.

-Laugh till it hurts, hurt till you laugh. Don’t take life too seriously but always respect it. Find the balance between wisdom and playfulness.

-Don’t be a dick. Seriously no one in the long run wants to be friend with a dick, hire a dick, or be around a dick. Although you may intimidate people in to some strange facsimile of respect, or they may keep you around to feel tougher….. inevitably inherit dicks end up alone in the end.

-Stop second guessing yourself; it makes people second guess you. Remember you have the power -if even not on purpose- to manifest your most hallucinatory insecurities in to existence.

-Don’t hide behind lazy self deprecating bullshit, yes you are strong enough, yes the world is tough; but only because it is a gift and nothing worth having is easy, no you are not JUST one person; you are your own motherfucking bad ass person if you so choose to be as such. Cut that shit out.

-The only thing in this life more fearsome than allegorical death is rebirth; the two intertwining; swaying hand and hand; the most gracious of eternal lovers.
Each integral dance move matched and each one a shattering blow on our coveted veil of illusion; illusion that breeds stagnancy.
We all experience these little deaths, paving the way for rebirth; each as arduous as the other; but never close to as grim as the thought of festering stagnant disillusion.

– Respect the fucking planet, its the only one we have and it adores us unconditionally.

– Be conscious of silence; don’t speak on and on unless it’s worth the effort.

“Constantly talking isn’t necessarily communicating”.
Take time to digest the moment, feel your expression and and savour the beauty of the space in-between words;
as any good musician should know; Sound is our medium; as well is the stillness betwixt the notes.

-Don’t be silent when you know you shouldn’t, trust your gut; speak the truth even when no one else will. Chances are they are just waiting for someone to take the lead. Authentic truth – practice it.

-We have three brains, our minds, our hearts and our body. Learn to listen to all three; learn to situationally allocate which is the temporally dominant one; learn to braid them together; harmonizing them to bring yourself and the people that care for you peace and inspiration.

-Be Attentive

– Enjoy music, all kinds of music. If someone else is enjoying music you do not, dont belittle them for that (but feel free to culture them further by sharing your favourites)

-Respect life, our ancestors of the past, our universe of the present, our home and families of the future. Know that time isn’t as linear as you perceive and that all these tenses are bound together. Each of these when you take the time to step outside of yourself has a unique wisdom to offer. Do not rob yourself of that, or them of the act of giving.

-Read fucking books. Read them. Do it. Like right now.

– Make love, fuck, have sex, cuddle, kiss, hug, hold hands, frolic, love; not because you should or you have to; only because you want to. The world needs more snuggles.

-Be Honest, even if it will hurt.

-Remember that love is everything, love is the moment you wake up; sun in your eyes and smile at your pet sleeping half on your head half on your pillow, love is music, love is a cold wind on a scorching day, love is the waves lapping against the shore, love is the moment of anticipation when your spouse returns home from a long trip, love is a moment of peace in chaos, love is chaos in peace, love is your child staring at you with adoration beyond language, love is a breathe of fresh air, love is in the tall creaking trees, love is a gathering of chosen family, love is comfort in being absolutely alone with yourself.

Art is love; the most wretchedly agonizing expression of love; momentarily our hearts ripped from our bodies and eyes torn from their sockets to depict if even for an instant the beauty and adulation we see in that of which we treasure, love is a thousand miles away from you and at the same time so close to you right now it’s embedded within your body, love is recognition, love is letting go, love is fighting for something, love is hard, really really hard, love is god damn worth every moment of discomfort because it is everything that was ever truly worth anything.

Love is universal; and multi diminutional, unfathomable and shattering.