I have a gift that is as much a curse.

Words often invoke imaginal images in my mind.

My father would call it an "affliction". But when I hear, see, use the word affliction I see a man, stripped to the waist being "inflicted" upon.
My imagination presents to me an image of a man being whipped.
Affliction, therefore is the wrong word to describe my condition. What ails me is not from an external source, but an internal one. That puts my suffering squarely in my own hands, that puts the power of healing directly with me.

As an example of this cursed gift, sometimes a single word can explode into a million of images in my mind. It causes great difficulty in having a normal conversation, with these picture bombs going off in my head every few moments.
But as an artist, it is a great advantage.

For instance, last night, I was watching a documentary, Social Genocide. It was narrated in Spanish, conducted some interviews in French and was subtitled in English.

It culminated in the spoken word piece of a wonderful Latin poet. She spoke her words alongside tribal beats and images of unrest and resistance in Argentina. I didn't miss a word due to the English subtitles, and I didn't miss a heart beat due to listening to the Spanish words she chose. By the end of the poem, I wanted to stand and throw my fist in the air. She got so deep into my head and heart. It was terrific, it was almost like chanting. I was inspired.

During the documentary, I found that all at one time I was translating the Spanish narration, comparing it to the English subtitles and distinguishing it from French. At times I found myself delighted to discover discrepancies in the translations. Always in favour of simplifying the English sub text.

In one moment, I had three parts of my mind working together like a symphony.
The part of me that can understand and read French, the part of me that speaks Spanish, the interpreter, well come to think of it there were four parts if I include who I call me, the observer who got a real kick out of it all.

That doesn't sound so amazing except that normally I don't speak French, or Spanish and have no experience in translation.

I told my husband about the experience of being multiple minded last night. He said, well if anyone can follow three streams of thought all at once, it's you.

I have a gift, and a curse.

Another example of what I mean;

Once I was in a hair show. We had a big tent set up where we changed between scenes of the fashion show. I was just exiting the tent, when a frantic woman, a fellow hair model was questioning her mother about the where abouts of her boy. I told her not to worry, he was in the tent with all the pretty girls. Her eyes widened, she looked at her mother and back at me again. You speak Russian? She said in broken English. When I said no, she claimed she had been speaking in Russian. I told her what I heard her say. She turned pale and said yes, she said that but she was speaking Russian. She made a quick movement with her hand and mouth (One I've since earned is designed to ward off the evil eye) and quickly grabbed her son and left. She never came back.

Though my "gift" was able to soothe this woman's mind, she chose to look at me as though I were cursed, a witch even and instead of being reassured her son was just fine and happy, she became terrified and quit a good paying job.

I've had other spontaneous language translations in the past, to much better receptions. It's like a part of me, a deep and mysterious part of me understands all language. Like a lost bit of babylon, safely hidden in the heart of me before the god's got angry and confused all language and the people.

Words, I've learned are simply symbols. What is a symbol but an image? A place holder for a larger concept.

Communicating in images isn't the cursed gift I'm talking about though, just a symptom of it. A symptom of being more than single minded.

Margaret Atwood writes about people like me in her two books, Negotiating with the Dead, a writer on writing, and Survival an exploration into Canadian writers and the theme of survival predominate in our National body of fiction.

She says the writer has to be double minded, in order to write convincingly, a person must be able to split themselves into two. The observer, and the experiencer. I'd go further and include the narrator as a third element , but she's the expert.

When she describes the writer/artist personality (such as myself) she claims we are doubly cursed (or blessed) by being of four minds.

In Survival, Ms. Atwood discusses the four stages of survival. From Victimhood to Acceptance. She hints at a fifth, the way of the mystic but because in her experience Mystics don't write books she left me hanging. So I have to plug the holes for myself.

Ancient Alchemists created formula's for turning one element into another. The stated goal was always to turn base lead into gold. Of course this is just double talk, or code. The goal was of a spiritual/psychological transformation.

They also believed that there were certain stages in the evolution of (individual) human development, that mirrored that of the universe. As above, so below and all that.

One of the stages was to recognise that no individual is truly individual.
That we are all shattered, searching for integration. As proof the alchemist would ask her student to investigate their own various and rapidly changing moods. If they were truly capable of going inward, of observing themselves without fear and judgement they would find their own truth about who they are, and how they have split parts of themselves off from their own consciousness. They may eventually come to see how those wayward pieces of self, when allowed to run unchecked by the critical conscious mind, have powerful control over the individual. Think gut reactions, knee jerk reactions, sabotaging behaviours, think You are your own worst enemy.

Denial of self is a slow death. Acceptance of self, is the beginning of healing, or integration of the split shards of self we hide from.

The Kabbalist's also hint at some of these spiritual truths. When describing the Creation, God poured out his/her light but the light was to potent for the vessels accepting the light, and these vessels (think baby souls) shattered.

A plan was devised to collect all these shattered pieces through a process of mending, of raising the sparks, of uniting the male aspect of god with the female aspect of god within creation, within ourselves. And the Torah was revealed.

I've been cursed with a severe shattering of self. This shattering was a blessing in that it kept me alive, and urged me onward, inward and upward into consciousness of the selves that make up me.

I've begun to understand, that just as OCD is a human condition that can be either harnessed as a power for organization and diligence or exaggerated into a debilitating disorder. Multiplicity is also a human condition. Most of us cut ourselves into little pieces, this is the piece that is mother, this the piece that is wife, this the piece that is daddy's little girl, and this is the piece that is secret. We are all multiple on the inside, but sometimes our "pieces" can act autonomously, without consciousness of the whole personality. Think I was beside myself (with fear, rage, sadness whatever), I couldn't believe what came out of my mouth, I don't know where I got the strength, etc etc etc. We all have pieces that surprise us from time to time.

I am blessed for being able to comprehend I have parts missing. I am blessed that I have an insatiable curiosity and that the recognition of my lack only served to prod me on. My curiosity it seems is a more powerful force than my fear, that is also a blessing. I am blessed that I was cursed with such trauma at such a young age that my life has been spent searching for healing gold rather than material gold.
I am blessed to know my psyche is a friend, and all her behind the scenes shannanagans and diversions and creations and stumbling blocks have all been devised with my best interests at heart. I am blessed to be loved by and to love myselves. I am blessed that I was able to withstand the cracking open of my heart, in order to benefit from the sweet fruit within. And I am blessed to know that all this is possible because of one univeral truth, the force of Love.