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by sianna burgos-altman 6 months ago in healing
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A Way To My Purposeful Peace

""The audacity of authenticity. How dare you shine and become well rounded in your rawness. Grounded like the diamond you are? Ugh I cannot fathom it".

Is what the guilt and shame mocks to me late at night. Imposter Syndrome nagging in my ear as I paint the orgasmic colors of red and green on the blank face of a canvas, the linger of old traumatic despair waiting to release from my hands.

Remind me of this exploration of authenticity will you? A deep dive into the lucid subconscious oceans: "I cannot faithfully stand here and trust that the tide will not drown me out at night. I feel myself anchoring into the murky sand anyways. Welp, here we go".

A spiritual awakening in 2019 that persuaded me to fly overseas. I quit my full time job after I realized-I simply hated myself. I hated the manifested outcome of the life I was living through, simply because I wasn't living in it. *Living in-as in state of being.

Drugs weren't fulfilling the high I was dramatically reaching for anymore. Even they (the drugs), were tired of my shenanigans. "Not this again", echoing in my haunted forest of a mind.

What shall I do then? I say! Grand idea in play here. I say!

"Quit your job because you are bottomless pit fiery filled depressed. Quit your job because you are now physically ill, Sianna. Quit your job because attempted suicide didn't work, and you woke up the next day angry as hell. Quit your relationship because it's toxic and nearly emotionally and sexually abusive. Quit living life through the portal of your inner demons and wake the f*** up."

Ouch. A wake up call I didn't expect to receive.

Life is pretty. Oh sunshine on my golden olive skin. The birds I hear their tune. They harmonize with the wind that blossoms goosebumps around my sand colored neck. A harp indeed, if the God's ever did play before. I like this.

So I quit. Now what?

Dancing Tango tunes hyped with the exclamation of high vibration: "Oh baby pick up the paint brush! Go crazy with vibrancy. Fill the piercing void of lack with color. Let me see it. Let me feel it. Let US be it!"

And so I pick up a canvas.

Euphoria. Nostalgia. Memories of cosmic fortunetelling. Alignment of mind, body, soul. I am here with you, one with you, dear mind. My heart has been waiting for you-although the barbed wire around the trail that leads to the SoulingLuna Gates of Light's Love may startle, perhaps frighten you, know there is a way through.

*Frustrated pausing* ... *A scratch on the head* ... *A disassociated roll to the given eye*

"Do I cut around them? Do I cut through them? The wire is difficult, tough in its metal nature. I don't have the grip strength to squeeze tight enough to pierce through. OWWW! Damn dull scissors".

An inner knowing voice stern to corner me down.

Ah baby, that is where you are humbly wrong. For a few reasons let us adjust the robust of executed intention. Dull scissors, an excuse, you've pulled that out the same toolbox for years now and they're not even the correct tool, you fool! The "can't" imposing itself into your mind for altered discourse. A punishment for even wanting to try. Requesting that you turn back around. Miming your every "wrong" move. Reflecting you in its mirror.

"But the castle ahead, it glows in the darkest of nights. She creates Aurora Borealis in a sky I have never even looked at before. I feel my soul dance with her lights. Warming my imbalanced energies".

Faint silence.

I feel cold most days and painting, painting I see, feel, hear, sense, and can touch that castle. A dotted rainbow of light mapping out the route to get there. Navigate it. Go.

And once again, I'm facing the barbed road.

You've got to figure it out, Sianna. My childhood nickname now tickling the back of my throat. "Nana" in fading whispers. "Nana, it is me." My child self staring back at me. She's holding the paint brush. But this one is morphed. Not a typical store bought Michael's brush. It has unicorn hair for the bristles itself, each topped with an alicorn. The handle, a golden sword. The end of the brush feathered like a toucan.

My first initial thought: "Why the hell does this little girl have this in her hands?" Mother instincts patterned in my blueprint naturally taking the lead.

"It is your weapon of choice that you brought with you when you signed the contract to come down to earth". Lost between her words, I am in awe of the warrior strength.

I sigh in discomfort. Change is inevitable at this point.

With that little girl inside me and trusting the warrior strength that I felt within my spirit, I knew I was ok. I knew what needed to take place.

A change of pace from art studio to my car. I leave it all behind. A suitcase of clothes and paints and no extra funds for food nor appropriate sleeping arrangements.

A two week self isolating journey of driving around SoCal, Las Vegas, and Mexico, now heading to the LAX airport. I'm bound for it.

Bound for what?

Stripping me away from my identity. The identity I knew to be fraudulent. Looking at me was an invitation to the finest Masquerade party known to man. Who am I, to what am I, to how am I? The questions investigating my inner, defensive, critic. A singing sound bowl voice answering for me.

"Just keep going, Sianna."

And I do so. I park my car in a garage. A note of my mother's information left on the car written to whomever will find it. I leave my suitcase behind, realizing with the funds that I do have, I won't be able to afford the trip with luggage. Mind you, it is winter time.

I leave it, in hopes someone who may be homeless will find it, if needed. The anticipation, eagerness, excitement, adrenaline, and fear shape shifting themselves into a reaching out light filled hand.

"Lets go now."

Purchasing a one way ticket to Vienna, Austria for a week. Stripped down alright. I was freezing. No real clothes. No warm coat to hug me. Converse and high heeled boots to footprint my essence on the city streets. The hunger aching away. Illness easing in. What a damn nightmare.

An old lover boy of mine from the country of Georgia, whom I'd met in 2014, also a painter, promises me a "safe space" if I fly to Tbilisi, Georgia. His home country. Of course I cannot pass this up. Romanticizing the fantasy of a future I saw with him. Lying to my family and friends of my whereabouts and telling them I need help with rent. I go.

What really strips you away of your false identity, codependent attachment styles, and trauma neglecting coping mechanisms? A boy, who sleeps with you the night of your arrival, only to tell you "stop, I don't feel anything", and leaves without another spoken word two years later.

My authenticity stemmed from this moment on. I decided, well, fresh start. New beginnings. New life. And I promised myself from that day on that I would introduce myself as a self taught travel artist. I stayed in that country for ten months, made business plans there to attend at a more appropriate time, and volunteered to paint murals and paintings for hostels.

After reprogramming my thought patterns and claiming my independence as a woman, I started to feel my personality truly undress herself. The fake identities melting away. Going out in public, in a country I didn't speak the language of, losing all of my cares in the world, dancing and painting away in underground tunnels with fellow traveling, freelance artists.

My life changed. My mindset changed. My clothes changed. My status changed. My social life changed. My reality shifted. My natural essence humming into praise. Humbled by humility.

Nurturing my inner child and my adult self simultaneously meant that I had to embrace raw expression with little to no judgement of self. Meaning I couldn't respond to myself the same way anymore. I created peace for myself and thus igniting authentic creative release as a foundation for emotional development.

I am thriving, now. My art fluctuating in its desired success. Manifestations before my eyes. Pinky promises to my inner child kept.

Realizing that the lesson of my spiritual awakening and having a broken heart, was the greatest gift of self exploration that I could ever embark on.

I now know my worth, believe in my soul purpose, understand the value of my kindred synergy. I dress the way I like. I speak the way I feel best, I set boundaries where respect is earned no longer immediately given. I dance. I paint. I sing when I want. And I now advocate and influence other's to get to know themselves entirely in self love, patience, compassion, and kindness through raw creative expression.

Because to feel, release, and be, without the permission or attachments to others, is our authentic peace. Our individualism.

And it’s about time we create it to live it."


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sianna burgos-altman

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