A part of me whispers that the change is happening right this second. In what direction ? Towards what ?
Who is this shining star I see the shadow of ? Is that really me ? The contours of this being are still blurry, not quite visible for the untrained eye. It is discipline to keep going inwards, looking for the shadows and the light, coming into the cave with no fear but the clear conscience of the unknown.
With almost certainty, I’ve found my path. The way is full of colours and lines and shapes of every nature.
Essentially, writing is my chosen life. In and out of this mission lay facts and thoughts that I don’t know. Maybe they will be forever misunderstood. I’ve chosen to write because unequivocally it is my calling. Since childhood, I’m a poet. Since I’ve visited sexuality and love, I’m a writer.
First, with no words but a vision, a gaze, a way to look at things and people that is mine only. Through the naive glance of a kindred spirit, I’ve found treasures, dreams, books, art.
In aligning the words, trying to make sense, I’ve found love, pure love, full of despair and joy, hope and battle. In trying to create something different that what used to be, I’ve found myself, simply, ecstatic. Happy to write, to lose myself in the literary, in the unseen worlds of magic that is writing and its practices.
Inside and outside my being as a writer, I am an artist, a creator, a technician and a boss. I’m either in control of the experiment or I am a boundless river of energy overflowing from the page. Sometimes, in these wanderings, I find myself face to face with death, termination. I encounter multiples ways of perceiving, feeling, understanding life as a concept.
There are moments when faith is a just a reality : a space to live in, anchored in both life and death, a possible square with no walls, a circle with no center, an ocean in which to swim, endlessly.
The road is a wide canal of light in which the travelers fly. No need of wings and no need of face. Just the eye, leading, from way deep inside. It’s the instinct, the inner radar that helps us navigate this realm.
When I am IN IT, within the process of writing as I am now, feelings become haze, a state of mind transmuted by the hazard and swiftness of alchemy. We are touched by the special fiery energy of creation that is love. We must all find our core, the point of impulse that will, without a doubt, propel us far away from where we began.
This movement forward has to be trusted in order for it to lead you where you need to be. It is a matter of choice yes, the choice of giving your whole life to life itself. To open up, to let yourself be filled up with experience as light matter, that you are. Accept that it is with your wholeness only that you can receive and reclaim the amount of light necessary for you to rise and shine. It is through affirming the truth of your sensorial experiments that you will meet your tribe. They will recognize you as you realize you were looking for them all along.
By sharing your soulful creations, you will help this vision expand and resonate in the open air. It does not matter how many people you touch as long as you do truly succeed in transmitting intention and authentic testimonies of human life out there.
Every piece of art, every creation ever made possesses its own vibe, its own gifts and its own pattern of signification. Art, to me, is alive, just like myth, just as every piece of matter ever incarnated by energy. At the contact of a soul-infused piece of art, you are touched by grace. Be grateful for this, the artist made it for you.
Through the act, through the gesture and thanks to the POIESIS happening in the present moment to give the text (whatever it may be) its significant weight, trust that both reader and writer share consciousness for a second. In other words, both participants are given the keys of portals and windows opening up onto the shared consciousness and global energy field of Planet Earth. In more than this way, we are connected.
In appreciating art as a form to touch someone else’s soul in other ways than speaking, we inherently accept the duality that comes with life here. This duality sadly is too often perceived by humans as a binary static system of existence as “I”. The physical world, in this perspective is not flexible, but mundane, and I dare say biblical. This model of reference to interpret and comprehend even to the slightest this voyage of creation and destruction we’re all on, we must detach from this vision of the duality as a strict arrangement of what can and what cannot be.
Myths of woman and man and God populate our conscious collective imaginaries. In the shared consciousness I am writing about, this binary only exists to close and reopen the infinite line that gathers both energies, feminine and masculine. Evidently, those extremes represent less than the half of what the rest of the circled line can be. Of many widths and masses, speeds and pauses in its rhythm, the line connects all of us, letting us be of whichever size and shape to realize this extraordinary experience of life.
The word “Duality” then, must be explained thoroughly in relation to another very important word : freedom. With the art of recognizing both feminine and masculine energies within the human form, materialized in our decisions, thoughts, discourses, absence of choices, silence and self-carried challenges, we find balance.
In balancing how we give and how we receive, there is perfect point of exquisite instability : this spot exactly is freedom. When you find the strength to make the choice of giving and receiving according to what you feel in your heart, the choice has to be made. I think duality cannot be limited to these close categories of feminine and masculine energies.
What I mean is that it is the entirety of the “two” that has to be embraced. Of course, it is possible to access to either parts of you at a given time, but sooner or later, in an unbalanced redistribution of energies within those poles, if your eyes have stayed closed for too long, you’ll find yourself ran after by the other side.
Writing has always brought this reality to me : the fact that I cannot separate the spiritual from the logical, the wild from the disciplined, – they are intertwined. I am both woman and non-human, both writer and non-artist, I am both myself, and no one, free in the way that I write, free, in the union of every piece of me, how dark and twisted thay may be.
Alizée Pichot – 2020, December 6th.