Art is my Religion
The Art of Life
Thank you for taking time to read, for letting me share the message that is born in my spirit.
'We know what we are,
but we don't know what we may become.'
Assigning words to an essay of a life that turns into a mystical journey is an almost titanic task. Setting limits on emotions takes hard work, and one may become repetitive while trying to find them. Keeping in mind that usually words reach the mind but not the heart, I hereby open my heart, for the purpose of preserving the vitality of its beat, and so that it can join others.
The feeling that art continues to live through me is what keeps me alive. If I'm not in a state of creation, acting through my soul, then I die, and the magic stops being present. Due to a personal catharsis, I started to feel that creativity had abandoned me; I even began believing that nothing had a reason to exist, that my life was lacking substance. During that time, every morning, as soon as I woke up, I found myself looking for something with a true meaning; however, there was always something that kept linking my thoughts: ART. I was able to realize that that process was a wake up call for my soul to head towards my own destiny. Had it not been like that, perhaps I wouldn't have been able to explore my universe; a task that requires an implicit sense of humanity and existence. I experienced a huge shock; a world died while another invited me to delve into it, giving me the opportunity of getting to know myself and expand my senses.
During the cathartic process, I longed for something that wouldn't make me feel my own abandonment. In those moments of solitude, I found myself connected to an incessant source of wisdom. I could be free; I could be everything and nothing at once. I could feel creative abundance coming over me, but something kept holding me back. Over time, I realized that my ego was full of wounds that wanted to be healed. I started to feel rushed, I wanted to run and reach a goal, which hindered my wellbeing, peace, and love towards my own existence. The exact same thing I had been looking for quite some time. My ego was that little girl that just wanted to be; it wanted to play, enjoy, and have fun. It was only on the stage that I found that. When my ego cooperated with my soul, when they could come into one being. However, whenever I was not creating, my mind began to spin endless questions based on fear and lack of self-esteem. And then, one day I went completely numb. My mind's dialectics broke due to excessive use, and I just stopped flowing.
And so it began; a journey of self-discovery in which I delved into the deepest and darkest shadow I had ever met; it cried for acknowledgement in order to heal. I met a self-destructive force that operated within myself, and was feeding on every piece of light within me. I was making choices that created an illusion imposed over myself by society, by the legacy of which I am an heir, and by a huge etcetera coated with fleeting dreams. None of them matched the freedom that my own soul and being were asking for. An acute pain was the drive of my actions, which became a magnet of dense experiences. I lost myself in a bubble in which I couldn't find the exit door or a pin to pop it and get out. My life was hurting.
I decided to put some miles in between. Life had imprisoned me and I had to become the best prisoner in order to earn my freedom back. I traveled from my native Barcelona to Mexico City. After a year of countless experiences, during which I emptied the pain luggage I was dragging from my previous life, I was reborn. I felt vitality return to my body and began to experience freedom. On that day I was able to bet again on art, the only way in which my inner child had fun and had a reason to get up every morning. On the process of recovery, this book began to write itself every morning through my hands, my computer, and a connection with something completely irrational. When seven o'clock in the afternoon came about, together, my friend Ines and I would write a play. Two babies were in gestation.
This essay is an emanation of the woman I am, of my light, of my way of being, perceiving and revealing my own way. It is a mystical-human journey through art, which is life. I looked again under the places I already knew to remove further veils; I discovered a new perception towards everything in this world, made out of big and small things. I realized that process was necessary in order for us to recognize our purpose; to do so, we must take hold of what nature provides us with as part of the creative commodities it grants us during the service of the soul in a material world.
'The things that we love tell us who we are"
When we contact our truth, we know it wants to shine and be shared. In order for the dance of my life to go on, I needed to be able to create in that new inner state. I began using the magic of words to provide a shape, a sense, and an action to my life project-essay. During the writing process, I understood that art's mission is to unite- relegate1 every creator to the incessant source of abundance from which we all come. "Art is my religion" comes from my infinite love to humankind ant its creative power. By understanding that the biggest work of art is existence itself, then the artists we all are, along with the gift of creation we all share, can help remember this. Every human being is a work of art, so we live within one.
'Chaos is rejecting all you have learned.
Chaos is being yourself '.
The term "religate" is used throughout the book. It was made up since it seemed the fittest option for "religar" in Spanish, due to the term's lexical significance. For its definition see "Religion" chapter. Translator's note