On the Notion of Home; Dissociation.

As most of my patrons know, I have been quite the rover, some times by will, and other times, led more by necessity. My life began to take on one deep transition after another a couple of years ago, and grew quite tumultuous until 2016, when the levee finally gave. Pretty much every situation and relationship in which I held roots and investments (financial AND emotional) had completely fallen apart. 

The entire year of 2017 was an ongoing process of adjusting to constant transition. Living in my Toyota Tacoma during long tours gave me a lot of solitude to reflect and reassess my relationships and goals. In 2018, I still haven't settled or fastened to anything at all, but I do feel like I've got my bearings about me, and am riding the waves of change with a stronger feeling of grace.

I've been meaning to write this piece for a long time, to share with you. It has proven to be very difficult for me to process these emotions, especially as significant obstacles continue to present themselves before me. But I'm finally gaining the perspective to see at least some of the bigger picture.

This 'Notion of Home,' will be a series of multiple posts, and I hope to have the first one up by Friday. 

In the mean time, here is a self shot image I took in early 2015. Some backstory; I had just returned to the Catskills with my partner, after a year of living in our VW van. We took over a bed and breakfast in the area, which was initially quite successful with our hard work, but ended disastrously, and I moved back in my van for a while. In the fall of that year, we moved into an apartment in New Paltz. Over the winter, we discovered that our apartment was full of black mold, and we became very sick. Though I did not know this at the time, my partner's toxic depression was compounding the situation. 

When this image was made, I was undergoing a 7 day Ayurvedic cleanse with a yoga therapist who was funded for me by the most loving and supportive patrons I have ever known. For 7 days, I had no contact with anyone other than my therapist. I ate cream of rice for breakfast, and kitchari (an Ayurvedic stew of lentils, turmeric, sweet potatoes, and kale) for lunch and dinner. Everything I ate was rich with ghee. I had enemas every day, and on the last day, I drank castor oil for a final purge.

In between all of this, I spent most of my alone time writing, taking photographs, sobbing, and sleeping.  

I agreed to this cleanse thinking it was purely to mend a shoulder injury and purge the mold toxins that were making me ill. I had no idea what an emotional upset I was in for. My therapist seemed to effortlessly conjure out feelings of devastation, hopelessness, betrayal, anger, and essentially, raw trauma, that I had buried for a decade or more.

These things coming to the surface have, in one sense, felt like a tremendous relief. I was hanging on to them for years, and they would not be digested. In another sense, however, they have been added conditions through which to navigate; because it was not that these emotions came forth and dismissed themselves. Instead, they hung around, like uninvited guests. And never having acknowledged them before, I didn't really know how to deal with them.

That emotional opening of the floodgates seemed to forecast a more literal shift in my life over the next few years that has felt like trying to navigate white water with very little experience. However, as exemplified by this image, (and the others to be featured) I did learn to be tempered. I learned to see my patterns as relative to the storms around me, and I learned that through writing and image making, I can guide my sails over these waters.

Stay tuned.

xo