During Shelter in Place, my husband and I took turns going on sensory deprivation journeys in our closet. We have two small children so we had to be out of the way so the other parent could do all the things. I don’t actually recommend this approach to most parents as it is pretty much the black diamond of psychedelic journeying. The visions are loud, immersive, and there is really no break, escape, or support.
When I was a child, I was in a young dance company that toured to my elementary school in Connecticut. I had choreographed a solo and was super anxious about performing it for my classmates. I really didn’t know what to expect.
I remember the huge applause. I was shocked and pleased. It turned out that I was good at choreographing - at entertaining. My dance was funny. Afterwards I was the only member of the young company invited to perform her choreography at the end of year recital. A very big deal.
That day a pattern was established and from then on, I was always working on some sort of choreography. I was driven.
Born the youngest of six, I would do almost anything to get attention from my father. In 2008, I presented one of my dance films at the Ecological Society of America conference. It was a film called ‘biome’ that was shot in Dr Nalini Nadkarni’s study site in the Monteverde Cloud Forest of Costa Rica. A writer from Nature Magazine was captivated. He wrote a short review of the dance film. My dad only read Nature and Science magazine, so I emailed him the article. No response. When I called him to see if he had gotten it, he said, “THE Nature Magazine?” I said “Yes”.
In that moment I realized that if a review in Nature Magazine (a publication that just about never reviews dance, performance, or film of any kind) did not impress him, nothing would. It was liberating. I never had to try to impress the un-impressible again.
But why was I was still so extremely driven? What was I after anyway?
Then I went into the closet.
I spent about four hours battling my ego. I would have deleted myself all together if I could. This urge was overwhelming. I couldn’t think of one reason to ever make art again. The art was not important. It wasn’t worth the struggle. It wasn’t worth the storage space (I design in steel so storage is a thing). It wasn’t worth the Carbon footprint. If I could have given my 25 year old art non-profit to our social media manager, I would have.
Eventually when I was coming back to myself, I had a few realizations. I could feel that I was so driven partly because I didn’t trust the future. My bright-future brother had died just after his second child was born at twenty-eight. I didn’t trust the future so I had to do it all right now.
I also saw my son in my vision and realized that if I never actualized anything again, it would have a negative effect on him. For some reason, his self-esteem was tied to mine and if I didn’t project myself into the world in some way, he wouldn’t either.
Then I settled down with my husband to organize my experience. He said that it all seemed to make a lot of sense. In my twenties, I was all about group - producing nightclub events, touring, doing anything I could with my company to amplify group energy. In my thirties I was doing my more serious work - some of my best motion sculptures and full-evening shows. I was mastering my craft. In my forties, I was now about the family and individual connections.
I didn’t come out of that journey knowing what I should do next even though that had been the intention. But I now realize that I had to kill my artist ego in order to make room for a new endeavor. While I was feeding that insatiable beast there was no room for anything new. For me, this death was the liberation I needed to arrive in my Now.
A few months later, I launched Creative Journey.
I had to untie my artwork from my identity. That day, art became something I do rather than who I am. I am still creating - I might even be making my best work yet. But I am doing it because it is interesting to me or because it feels good or because the images came. I am not doing it for attention, affection, or affirmation.
Often the vision doesn’t come during the vision quest, but afterwards, once you make some space. Then there is room for something new to emerge.