A Cyclothymic from Saturn

God turns you from one feeling to another and teaches by means of opposites, so that you will have two wings to fly, not one.
-Rumi

Last night I told my husband that I was ready to marry my painting. I've had a bunch of tough uphill days and a few surprising flow days that made me remember the romance of painting that I used to have as a child, days that made me want to grow up to be a painter. Sinking in to the flow is the ultimate gift because I am awake and alive and in the process. Dare I say I sometimes enjoy it? I do not use the word enjoy and painting in the same sentence very often, not since I was 11 and first fell deeply in love with it. I told my first boyfriend painting was my first marriage.

Lately I have been in 'receive mode' which is an inward and often excruciatingly painful emotional place that I live in twice a year. I drop off the radar. I get quiet. Morning is hell. I contemplate suicide. Deciding to paint feels like a matter of life or death. One of the gifts of receive mode is that I can hear what my paintings want. I know it sounds strange but let me explain. I am laid so low receiving signals from within that the only place to hide is in my art. Many of these signals are a hellish narrative of fears, panic, and doom and gloom coming from my own mind. Keeping a simple routine can be a life saver. Get up, have coffee, read the news and emails, spew letters to God in my notebook, take a shower, walk Lily, have a meal, touch the brush. Then afterwards take a long walk to the pond and swim. Each element is inward then outward, alternating, building stability to counteract the internal tumult. I try to guide this state toward what it is good for, painting. Gentle, clear, persevere, is my motto. When my painting is not flowing I find refuge in the physical, my walks and swims. Yet when my painting is flowing I still find refuge in my walks and swims.

'Transmit mode' comes twice a year also, and is the opposite of receive mode. Morning is sacred. I wake with joy bubbles in my abdomen at two or three AM and I get up and go to my desk to write. Everything is sensory and lush and my physical energy and joy is gushing. I am on the other side of Saturn. Words, thoughts and ideas are flowing and all is right with the world. Life is perfect flow. I am not in the land of painting, I am in the land of words and poetry. I am in the land of people. I am talkative. After writing I willingly houseclean. I find joy in vacuuming and washing blankets and curtains. The internal narrative is utopian and makes perfect sense to me. I read and read. Words are delicious morsels I taste in my ear. I bake and cook. I have appetite. My skin is singing, electric, and I dance. I feel happy and beautiful and I am ready to make a banquet for my friends, neighbors, the whole city.

Both states are lonely and not lonely. Both states are about my life on Saturn. I try to bargain with the gods to let me live in one home but they do not comply. This is how you were made, they remind me. Go forth and make good use of it. My challenge is to accept that I was born with two wings to fly. It's always a difficult challenge. I share my challenge as honestly as I can.