Amuart

The break in the space of my heart is mended & knitted together in the greater self that is my soul eternity—forever free of the bondage of adversity and harm. Forever + ever is endless, imagine that—living without end: is not scary to me but utter freedom to be who I have always been, but was never allowed to be by the others.

The core of who I am has never been harmed, broken, shattered, destroyed, raped, assaulted, stalked, held captive, Stockholm Syndromed. And now it expands to the far outer reaches of my heart that is boundless and generative for all to see & hear.

I have always been protected—my soul has. And now I have the power to protect my body—in every cell of my being. The body is truly a temple and cannot be penetrated from the outside. An inside person, aligned with their true heart + soul, are the ones allowed to know who I am & see beyond the words.

Empty of all the trauma, that seemed to fill me up—but the illusion was that it covered me over with a dark cloak that no one could see through. See the child that has always been there—free, injoy, in unconditioned love—in a space of compassion.

AMUART, Watercolor and ink on paper, mounted on wood panel. 9x12 inches. Available.

November 10, 1980 Kalamata, Greece

Trauma Activation Warning: sexual violence

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The gang rape I and my friend experienced in Kalamata, was not a repressed memory... it happened during a blackout. I can see the start of it, in the water... and then, after... later being in a room where we were staying... feeling lots of confusion and anger from our fellow travelers. But they were not angry at our rapists, they were angry at us.

This is a big deal for me today... to discover the date and the location that I had recorded in my little calendar notebook in 1980. The date was Monday, November 10. Today is Monday November 8, 2021. I had a deep pain in my womb earlier today. The body and visual memory was released into consciousness, and I was led to the little calendar that I had not read in years and years. The blackout had been repressed, so to speak. How does one explain this? You were not there, I was. I was raped, there are so many in my youth... how do I share this with people who understand? I am not really asking the question.

To wake up in the morning remembering that rape... then finding that it was precisely 41 years ago to the date. Will anyone ever know me, in this life? I have great doubts. I am known above.