Sasquatch fArting Mysticism

I lay there silently.

I played there.

It was quiet.

It got loud.

I farted.

Then,

I left.

Like “She” said:

Follow the voice within.

I left early, I know. My mind followed the guided meditation story about the creation of Earth, the moon and sky. For a time.

Toward the end, I had to open my eyes. Poetry and expressive images kept invading my mind’s attention behind the eyelids.

During the part of the story about a great eagle creating landscapes, I looked up at the skylight in the studio and saw a farting Sasquatch. There was a bird there too so part of the story stuck.

A personal addition to the story made me smile with a hearty laugh inside. It wasn’t a laughing yoga class though so I kept it quietly bottled until I reached the bathroom.

I didn’t really have to go. Oddly enough, I could feel that the girl two mats over needed a break. I also observed her face when I looked over and the mental struggle of leaving the room during a meditation event.

Sometimes it helps others if I do the thing they want or need. Taking a step away, they follow suit. Their own wants or needs are met – and mine.

I really can’t explain how or why it all works. I’m sure psychology or science has some term for it. Intuition becomes a guiding force that is compelling.

There is a repetitious voice inside my wild mind. One that whispers into a shout until I follow the guidance. It just is.

The guide inside is my voice, and also not mine to own or explain. Some people call it “Spirit” or in Christianity, the “Holy Spirit.” A friend believes the presence could be angelic. I don’t know. Again, it just is.

The more I follow “Her” the more I trust Her. The reason She spoke usually reveals itself and it feels a bit like magic. Sasquatch farting mysticism.

The more I practice mindfulness, sit in meditation, and get out in nature, the stronger She becomes. Sometimes no words are even required anymore.

I have this picture on the wall that I stare at in bed, “be present,” it reads. True. Very true.

The picture hangs crooked on the wall. It leans slightly to the right. In this way, it catches my OCD eye. I leave it crooked for that reason.. and so many others.

Perfection is elusive. I crave the imperfect, yet I still compare myself to perceived perfection. I’m learning to simply name the stories as they rise to be heard, like “comparison,” or “competing.”

I slow-walk a running race. I sit on a mat, then observe the normality of staring at a phone or computer. It’s the busyness of staying busy. It’s often business, not pleasure.

Though I keep trying to compete in that race.. like I used to.. my body and mind refuse to be that anymore. When I force it, I crash and burn. I turn to coffee, caffeine or higher doses of medications to push through.

Doctors call who I am disabled. I have that, and I am also not a diagnosis. Bipolar with psychosis.. Schizophrenia.. I don’t actually care all that much what word they choose. I’m not a doctor. It’s a description that may require a prescription.

A lot of exercise and being out in nature really helps. I’m also on the lowest doses possible. Years of psychiatry and therapy were a life changer. It was an emotional rollercoaster of trial and learning. It was all worth it.

Seeing a sasquatch farting in a yoga studio skylight during meditation? That’s actually pretty normal. I know mania and psychosis when it ramps up, and this energy and form of art in my head is not that.

It’s laughing yoga. It’s walking meditation. It’s touching nature. It’s playing the piano on a chain link fence. It’s walking my cat on a leash.

It is what it is. I am who I am. It may not be “normal,” but what is normal anyway? I genuinely don’t know.

Humans still surprise me with their incredible talents and gifts from nature Herself. I’m just glad I can still form paragraphs.

The end.

Until?

She speaks.

Again.

Signed,

#fArt

Artist’s Note:

Bipolar mania and psychosis can be triggered by extreme stress, overexertion, excitement, and lack of sleep, among other causes.

If I leave the room or cancel plans, I genuinely feel the shared grief of missed time together. I have no intention of being selfish or causing pain or suffering.

Creating art often create a sense of excited energy. It’s also temporary and depleting. Both are true.

Art is a form of energetic release. If I work, write or create – especially in the evening – this can cause restlessness and lack of sleep. As such, calm and rest is vital. I make every attempt to avoid the possibility of an “episode” – while living a semi-normal life.

That is all.

For now.

Nap time.