Everything I have ever wanted, I have attained. It’s a bit scary.
I cast my mind over my life and whatever I have aspired to, whatever I have sincerely wanted has happened. No questions asked, the universe has delivered. Time and time again. Things I’ve wanted for myself, for my life, for my well being, sometimes for worse… all of it has been granted and unfolded, with Divine timing but unfolded just as I had wished. However it has seriously been a case of ‘be careful what you wish for’, and in some cases, there’s no wishing required. It’s just the simple act of thinking about it, and it manifests. Every single time. The impossible becomes not only possible, but an absolute given.
As a child, most of my wishes came true. I wanted my own room, a china doll, later a doll’s house – those sorts of things occurred in a ways that I didn’t quite understand. To see snow, a concert, have a boyfriend. I got all that and more. My own car. To be ‘well known versus famous’ (I had this belief that being famous was a burden, and being ‘well known’ was virtuous. I still think there’s truth in that). To manage a modelling agency. I managed three of them. Of course, every child leaves school wanting to manage a modelling agency (bizarre but true). As I moved forward, into my career, I would find myself feeling that I would be more fulfilled within what was known back then in “Personnel”, I worked as an HR Officer in one Australia’s leading hotels; I felt I’d be a great trainer with my experience … low and behold, not two years later, I was writing and consulting to businesses to assist them with professional development programs. What about university? Yes, I got in as a mature age student – didn’t finish. I think part of it was just wanting to see if I could get in, and I did. Then it was working with the long term unemployed? I did that also. Working in a HR Corporate office as a recruiter: doing that now.
Marriage was important to me – I did that twice, because the first one wasn’t right. Second one is now over. I wanted two children: a boy and a girl. I got both. I always wanted to live in an apartment with white walls near the city. My parents tenants needed out and I needed somewhere to live with my two children: perfect. As you can see, I’ve lived a full life.
So I guess I’m the type to make things happen. Unconventionally perhaps but they happen nevertheless. Yearning for things doesn’t sit well with me, nor does missing what I don’t have. It feels like whinging, and that’s not my style. Typically I identify what I want, leave it be for a while, and magically, it manifests when I least expect it. But a couple of things have been elusive. And one of those things was my own art studio.
I moved into my whitewalled apartment a year ago, but I hadn’t spent time doing anything other than just establishing us over the past year or so. But always in the background was this distinct feeling something missing. Priorities meant that I needed to focus on the most important things – which meant looking after the basics and trying to embed some sense and rhythm in our lives, being responsible, paying the bills, having enough money and food to eat, and always with the awareness that while I provide for me and the kids, I also do what I can to look after my own needs too. Somehow.
When you’re in that survivalist mode, you tend not to be able to think too far into the future, out of necessity. In all honesty, my success strategy so far has been about focusing only on what is in front of me, to avoid the feeling of being overwhelmed in a forest-for-the-trees scenario, so you can imagine when I was asked a simple question by a suitor not long ago “…and what do you want for yourself? What are your hopes and dreams”, I realised I couldn’t actually answer it. That I’d neglected this one very important aspect of living: the hope and imagination part of living, providing much needed momentum, or the art of moving forward, living well, instead of existing. But it was just a hiatus. I’d work on that.
It made me wonder. Did I dare focus on what was missing in my life? Dangerous ground for a single mother who had so far avoided the dark, dripping walls of depression post-40. But, what I did do was allow myself to dream again and when dreamed I saw myself painting and creating in my own studio. It’d never happen, but I could pop it up there on my ‘wishing wall’ the bright and shiny star lined universal wall where, like decades before, I’d hung my dreams on my little hook in the sky and left it for the universe to take care of for me. So I did it again. “I’d like my own art space” The catch: did I honestly feel I was worthy of my own dream?
Hell yeah! I’d been through enough, my turn. So… as I always do, after identifying a need, or a wish, and hanging it on my hook in the sky I focused my attention on other things. After a recent workshop, satisfied with the nudes I’d created I pulled up in my car outside the garage as I do every day and once again came the mantra “if only I had an art studio…just a place to create”… and then it dawned on me. I looked up at the closed garage door … and the answer came to me: “but I do!?”. Every single day I pulled up to the garage door I rarely opened, full of a decade of memories prior when I moved in here and there I stopped. Never went forward. Never actually parked the car in the garage, the garage was just there, a space for me. The irony. I had the space. I just had to process a bit of the clutter and junk in there to convert it in to something I had always wanted, which was sitting there, waiting for me to acknowledge its existence. It was there all along.
By nature, I don’t think its possible to ‘have’ a space. A space appears, materialises. Relatively speaking the space is the thing between two objects … Philosophers have been arguing this for years. Is a space an object or is it the relationship between two objects… either way, I’m not arguing. It’s a gift. I have my studio. I have my space. And the universe provides, every single time.