Okay - I don't know if I should write this story down because nobody else knows about it.
But the coincidence factor and downright synchronicity of the situation, plus what is
being revealed to me, compels me to write it down just to clear my mind; even if I don't post it.
It all started when I made a drawing about a charnel ground. That drawing scared me so much that didn't post it right away but held onto it for days, maybe even a week, because I thought someone was about to die. The vibe I got from it was so disturbing to me that I didn't want to share it and freak everyone out.
I have always made a conscious effort to keep my art positive and optimistic, especially in my writing, but I feel the balance shifting. I am approaching some deeper feelings at the risk of people not liking what I write or draw. Facing fear is part of artistic growth. So is going outside of expectations. Just know that if I write about a charnel ground, I am not personally morbid or depressed. It is part of a process. I am being pulled along some thread of fascination to discover how similar creativity is to destruction.
And really the only reason I have even heard of charnel grounds is from some Tibetan Buddhist stories I have read where they describe the whole process of cutting up bodies and leaving them out for birds to eat. The hardcore meditators get sent to the charnel ground to sit and contemplate impermanence amongst the remains. Also especially lustful young monks are sent to look and I suppose become disgusted with decaying bodies. Yuk. Not erotic, that's the point.
As the charnel ground drawing appeared I remembered these stories. I tried to visualize sitting in such a place. I doubted my ability to undertake such an exercise. How would I face it?
Given this as background, tomorrow I will reveal the synchronistic events that followed.
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