My Soul, My Soul, Where Are You?
-Carl Jung
Beki has been a soul sister of mine for nearing twenty years, from when I first walked into her boutique in Charleston, SC and fell in love with her sharp fashion sense, artistic genius, and her goddess wisdom. My wardrobe became mostly Utopian clothes over time but one thing always seemed to be missing. I did not own one piece of artwork that adorned the walls of this mystical shop and I yearned for that each time I stepped through the threshold.
It wasn’t until Beki began her journey into painting soul portraits that I knew instantly I was finally destined to have a piece of her talent. And this would be different because I knew this would not only be healing, but it would be deeply insightful, undeniable, and raw. It was my soul, after all, that would be revealing herself for my own growth through the vibrant strokes on the canvas. My hair stylist commented before the project was even started that certainly it would resemble Lady Gaga on LSD.
Following the instructions for the unveiling exactly as written, the initial viewing was beyond overwhelming or adequately describable. Tears streamed as I met her deep aqua blue eyes. They were so intense I could not even hold her gaze for prolonged periods of time due to the craze that welled inside me. This was me and I was fierce, powerful, loving, wise, and unworldly. All things I had failed to trust about myself even when others believed so strongly.
Sitting with her for hours, slowly my gawk became longer, softer, and awe filled. Her face changed as I sat in front of her. Her wildness softened and a I saw a sister, mother, grandmother, father, brother, lover, child. She was me but was also everyone. Her high, passionate cheek bones transformed into sage wrinkles. She was defiant; a protector, a healer, a sinner, a savage. She was life severely amplified. She was Lady Gaga on LSD.
Automatic writing is something I have been doing for a while. It takes over. I know I need to type and I really don’t have to think much. My fingers do the work and I just sit back and enjoy the ride. But I don’t normally sit down with that intention as I did this day. Grabbing a precious notebook with the tree of life embedded into the leather, I prepared myself not really expecting much because I have learned not to force anything.
My fingers could not write as quickly as the questions and answers were being downloaded. She was talking to me and I desperately wanted to capture her insights. There were many. The one that sticks with me months after this transpired was a question I posed to her.
“Why do we forget who we are? Why do we forget our soul?”
“So you can experience the joy of remembering,” was her loud, simple answer.
That moment I remembered. Always knowing that this life is but an education for my own spiritual growth, I finally felt the intensity of my wild, spirit side. That part that was feminine, masculine, and divine. That part that chose this life and this body to just remember her soul and her divine purpose.
Months have passed. I have moved to Hawaii. I am following my soul. She dreams with me at night. I see her eyes when I awaken, staring back at me from the wall on which she hangs. I do not look away anymore.
Do I sometimes forget her? Have fears? Watch my ego and mind loose control?
Surely that happens. Often more than I would like or expect.
But I now always find my way back to her. She will never be lost or forgotten again.
Beki, the wise healer and artist gave me that as did my own precious, ferocious soul.
Image: Beki Crowell
For more information about Beki’s healing art visit her site.
