I‘ve known, for some time now, that I live my life in inadvertent cycles. An observation which has gifted my nature a somewhat predictable rhythm, a cadence and perceptible atmospheres through the peaks and valleys.
Growing up, I learned to tie these cycles to the phases of the Moon and had a lot of success finding insight in its waxing and waning. So much so that the rhythm of my menses began to express this observation in the regular flow of my blood. I learned to appreciate this connection as an insight into a longstanding conversation between those who menstruate and the Moon. This was, to me, an initiation into a very particular experience of womanhood which I have assumed now for some decades. It taught me to gather strength during the waxing Moon and hold still through its waning. I would find this connection resonating in mythologies and to this day I catch myself looking for the full moon upon seeing first blood. I find it more often than not and in this way I tune into this rhythm. My first insight into my self was Lunar.
Over the years I‘ve noticed a cycle much longer lasting than a Moon cycle. I learned about it first by living in places where the Sun hides for some seasons and feeling the discomfort growing with each passing year. In many ways this particular cycle was impressed into me further by the growing discomfort progressively becoming more severe with each passing. This cycle is much stronger now than any other and it’s marked by the absence of the Sun. The color of my skin changes, the feeling of inhabiting my body changes, the aggression of my internal dialog becomes unbearable to the point that I feel a total absence of the “Me” who can live, appreciate, even thrive here. My understanding of my relationships changes and I’ve learned to isolate myself from everyone as much as I can. I can survive putting one foot in front of the other, I can work, I can act, I can breathe; but none of it is pleasurable. I lose weight and the image I have of myself is an image of dying. I bring this image out in photographs to document my transit through my underworld - the world of my dying self, in attempts to make meaning of this passage. I’ve been blessed by patience and support from loved ones who become collaborators in this documentation, but sometimes I can see in the eyes of my loved ones that they mourn the image of my journey. The one who I am during this time is not capable of nurturing or anything close to the warmth of internal healing and so I have no real warmth to share with others. I find that a lot of my conversations sound like disclaimers, warning those around me of potential damage from getting too close to the storm which has supplanted my self. This insight into myself was Solar.
It’s likely that these cycles are something I will have to travel with for as long as I can live. Moving to Berlin has proven to be very challenging for me during the Winter months due to the continued greyness for half the year; and so this Winter I had planned to travel to South America to see my family in Bolivia and do a lot of traveling by myself from Mexico to Brazil where it’s Summer. The current political situation in Bolivia convinced my Mother to advise against it, advice which was confirmed by the Bolivian embassy.
I have a lot of negative feelings about the Winter holiday season which, coupled with my cycles, makes this particular time especially difficult. I often find myself wishing to be elsewhere and so I give into my reading compulsion. I view this compulsion as a guide which, at best, illuminates new or novel ways, to me, of thinking. At worst, I admit, it’s a form of escapism as I make no effort to curate the things I read. In the depths of my depressions, when sleep isn’t attainable, I just turn on the phone and let it do its thing as I scroll until something catches my eye.
One particular night what caught my eye was an announcement made by a professional piercing studio in Hawai'i looking for a guest piercer to cover for some weeks. This struck me like lightning, a good omen for me, my heart jumped and I stared at the announcement for some time as I listened to its beat. I recognised the beat by the unfolding of its rhythm, this was longing.
In music, Rhythm is defined as “the aspect comprising all the elements that relate to forward movement”. I wrote a note to myself about my heart beat and paid attention to that rhythm as I responded to the call via email. My heart beats were still filling my head when I was done and in my sleeplessness I imagined myself dancing to a drum which carried the same beat. I was at the edge of a volcano and I could feel the flowing of lava behind me. I felt my heart racing and I began to sweat. There, in the middle of the night many thoughts rushed through my head; passages in books I red intersected with parts of past dreams, intersected with past conversations, intersected with memories of creative processes in art, intersected with thoughts about dying… As my walls changed color with the rising of the Sun all of these intersections joined in that moment like vertices meeting at an apex, meeting at one thought… I’ve always wanted to meet Pele. It seemed to me like she was calling me to move… forward.
The next day I got a message from Tony Naggar, Chief of Honolulu Piercing Company, inviting me to be a guest Piercer and we began to make arrangements.
To be continued..
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Oáhu 2019, Polaroid of Crab City