The Secret Culmination of "tiny eyes making sacred"

I am going to write about the final part of my piece "tiny eyes making sacred". This was a movement piece I did for the Art in Nature/Nature of Art Festival held at the Redwood Regional Park in Oakland CA. What this describes is not something I planned, but certainly a part of the piece as my art is based in the experiential, courting the transformations that will occur there.

What is here described is something that I did not speak about afterwards to others, excepting two trusted individuals, the experience being so radical, intense and personally profound. Why I publish it now on my blog I do not know, perhaps to expose the climax of the piece, or to reconcile with it and to integrate it, forming back for the present. And perhaps knowing the nature of blogs it will still be as a secret, except if you are reading now.

The piece was a demonstration of the fundamentals of the act of sacred making, which is a manipulation of the environment coupled with an altered ecstatic experience that leaves a physical indication of the interaction. There is an account of the piece from my tiny eyes website, which is probably worth a look before reading on here. http://tinyeyes.bretarenson.com/tinyeyesmakingsacred.html

What I am going to describe is my experience on the final journey alone up the trail past the festival grounds to end the piece.

A major part of the piece was to court and cultivate a transformed experience of the environment. This is something that can be very pronounced for me but difficult to explain. Suffice to say there is a major shift in the way I relate to my surroundings. I say I court because I do not always find the level I sometimes do, so courting aptly describes the nature of my activity.

For this piece it was of course my hope to find such a moment or moments, and although there were definitely heightened passages, there was nothing on the order of shattering up to the time when I was to leave the populated festival grounds and alone back up the forest trail. Before I turned to leave grounds though I made a last effort to see the great shift. But alas it was not to be found, so I turned up the trail alone, and began the last part of the piece.

Entering into the forest trail alone, I had feeling of sadness come to me, and the feeling began to grow stronger and stronger. It was like I was walking though a passage to reunion, but which was also passage into losing my separateness. It was like the opposite of a birth canal. It felt like I was walking into death. But as is my directive, I kept surrendering to the experience, because it was there.

After several steps more the deathly feeling of reunion started to open up, and I began to more acutely sense my surroundings. I began to experience deep within me a kind of communication, a movement that is very intense that cuts all through me. It is something I can only listen to through the most intimate part of me, it coming to a place so deep within. And it reverberates from that exposed part through the rest of me. And as such it is a challenge to a keep focus and not try to hide.

The communication was to the effect of "YOU DID IT!, YOU DID IT!". It welled up through out my body and tears came to my eyes. My usual response to an ecstatic experience is to say "thank you". It helps to keep my focus. But when I tried this time my gratitude was not accepted. It was an adamant "NO - THANK YOU!" and that was final. It was not accepted. I had to take everything in. From somewhere I was getting acknowledgment, praise and gratitude for doing what was the intention of the piece, for making sacred, from what felt like hosts and hosts.

I am not going to say anything about the existence of the divine or the spiritual or what have you, nor do I care. But I do believe in the divine experience. This I know something about and is real. And in this experience of rapture I began to weep profusely, wailing as I walked up the path. As extraordinary of an experience as this is it is also rather uncomfortable. But as my attention to intimate relation was part of the piece, I kept turning back to it, and allowing it to keep passing through me, making me weep and wail. I would repeat the words of the piece, "tiny eyes making sacred" which would toss me back into the depth of the experience.

A couple of times others would come pass down the trail, and I gave myself a moment of letting go of the focus, not really wanting to have anyone engage me, which I am guessing, or was just apprehensive, that they surely would. But as they passed I would speak the words again.

It was a bit of a trek to get to back to the starting point. But I was committed to stay with the experience through out it, as was the frame work of the piece. On returning to the spot I finally could let it go, sitting for a while so settle back into a more usual experience of the world.

And now this is published, the telling of the culmination of the piece.