As I explain on my About Me page, I am an eclectic individual, a whirlwind of curiosity, driven and determined, blending vision and logic with out-of-the-box thinking. If I'm in a creative environment for too long, I'll start making spreadsheets and checklists for my endeavors. Before you ask, yes, I have one for my Tarot project. However, if I spend excessive time in my action (Pitta) state, I must quench my analytical thirst with a tall glass of creativity Kool-aid (Vata).
In short, I've always been curious; I continued the "but why" stage long after I was a youngster. The "why" addressed information cravings in my multi-faceted brain. I transitioned from a restless youth into an impatient adult who drove deadlines and quickly identified the shortest route from point A to point B, leaving me with more questions.
Why were corporate meetings so stuffy and formal? It was a painful event similar to attending a wake: lots of nodding, avoiding eye contact, and hoping nobody asks you to speak on a topic you have a different opinion on.
Why couldn't the business world have communication transparency? Lots of charts and metrics, but no visionary direction despite the intuitive evidence.
Why did we have to act joyful during arduous jobs when we weren't? No further explanation is required; you get the gist.
Why did we have to choose only ONE thing and stick to it — and what is the point of having a growth mindset if we are obligated to remain stagnant?
My quest for clarity led to additional inquiries and my non-self-theme: frustration. I changed employers and felt unfulfilled, and despite being a proficient communicator, I needed to articulate what was lacking.
Pressing on, I used my creativity in writing, sculpting, and photography to escape from the taxing office politics, but working demanding positions in the STEM fields led to long days approaching burnout. The yo-yo pattern of corporate and creativity went back and forth for years. I would get a job and be relaxed, start to dabble in art, and then things would ramp up at work and my side projects would disappear.
Interestingly, I took a test when I started at my current workplace, and my results were the standout roles of Creator and Pioneer. My soul rejoiced, and I shared the findings with my loved ones. At least some algorithm somewhere understood me. Over two years later, I read Discover Your Dharma, which also suggested I was a Researcher and Artist. Essentially, Research/Pioneer and Artist/Creator are the same thing. I want to create complex things that have never been attempted. I need originality and to incorporate art for expressing myself, but I must continually innovate.
"Life is a series of phases, and to become stuck in one stage is a type of death in itself."— Jenna, Into the Light by Tara Marks
I included the text because it speaks to me deeply. I need to grow while simultaneously thriving. My human design type is a generator, producing enormous amounts of energy doing what I love, propelling me forward even faster. In short, I have infinite vigor when cheerfully working in an area I feel engaged in.
Although I seek cerebral stimulation, after working 14-hour days for nearly a year, I realized I was exhausted and my sculpting supplies were gathering dust on the shelf. By this point, my ingenuity bucket had run dry. My creative soul had simply starved to the point of collapse.
Some may refer to it as "artist's block." I strongly disagree. When we are not in alignment with our genuine self, the reason we are here, that is not an obstacle. The slow, agonizing death of ourselves — and, in my case, creativity — occurs when we let conditioning force our passions out the door, leaving nothing but crushed ambitions in its wake.
*GASP* Just reading that sounds horribly painful. Shiver.
Let's quickly move onto the happily-ever-after ending to this Wicked FairyTale®.
Earlier this year, I discovered Stutz on Netflix by fate and was intrigued by the idea of how it might shift my perspective. Watching it, I was pleasantly surprised by how the psychiatrist presented unique solutions that immediately altered my opinion of my situation. I chose to prioritize myself; I began meditating and switched my daily tarot practice from what might occur to how I would build the life I desired. Like magic, the artistic juices began flowing once more.
This is why I opted to share the Death card sculpture first. Some individuals may need help understanding how significantly my art has evolved. It's because my profession and imaginative expression have changed dramatically recently. With my current project, the tarot deck, this is no longer a notion. It is something I must do — a commitment to my dharma.
I've decided to leave a legacy of helping people find their passion. I have kept my creative and intuitive abilities apart for a long time. But I'm unable to now. I had to put in extra work to run two websites, maintain a façade of who I was, and hide parts of myself from people who knew me best. It no longer serves me, and I have forgiven myself of the requirement, releasing myself of the burden.
I have been assisting clients on their professional journeys, and I receive great joy from coaching and offering guidance through my intuitive abilities so they succeed in their careers. Creativity can solve every problem that exists, whether logical or spiritual.
I adore working with people who, like I once was, are temporarily compelled to maintain their dichotomy despite having a foothold in two distinct realities. I strive to mentor and support people in developing their plans to be fully integrated and alive. I know this is what the divine wants for each of us, whether you are spiritual or religious or worship God, gods, or Mother Earth. I'll explain next time how my intuition inspires all of my artwork.
Until then, be kind to yourself, make something beautiful in whatever form you choose, and continue to travel the wicked path to discover your true essence.
x Tara x