Eclectic
I am revisiting this memory now during a time of physical pain, emotional unease, and spiritual restlessness. The body aches, the heart searches, and the mind listens to voices speaking of futures yet to unfold. In returning to this moment in the Rockies, I am reminded that my path was never about prediction or certainty, but about learning how to stand quietly at the intersection of many truths without losing my center.
Eclecticism was a school of philosophy in Ancient Greece — or so I read one cold winter’s day in the foothills of the Rockies, in a small potter’s house about a kilometer downhill from Central City, Colorado. It was the late seventies, and I was doing my college work, which at the time meant traveling all over the country — and eventually the world — seeking knowledge.
I was a street artist.
My studies were about how one lives the life of an artist on the street throughout one’s life. I called it “The Art of Living (as an Artist).”
Along the way, I got myself deeply involved with my darker nature and committed many errors — or, in plain language, I fucked up many times in just as many ways. You name it; chances are I did it, or fucked it up too. That was my load to carry. Karma sucks.
One night, in the middle of that cold Rocky Mountain winter, I woke suddenly with a ringing in my ears and a voice shouting loudly enough to shake me awake:
“You are an Eclectic!”
It was the end of a dream of which I have no recollection. What I remember clearly is sitting up, searching for my sketch pen, and writing the word down on a small piece of paper as EKLEKTIK, unsure of the spelling. I then fell back to sleep. It was a cold winter’s night in the Rockies.
The next morning, I went downstairs for breakfast with my host, Mr. Angelo DeBenedetto — an elderly Italian gentleman in his seventies, a well-known artist in the Denver area. (You can Google him.) I told Angelo about my dream and showed him the piece of paper with the word EKLEKTIK written on it. I asked him what it meant.
Angelo began explaining, but as I listened — or rather, as my ears heard while my attention drifted — my eyes were suddenly captured by something else entirely.
A small antique wooden statue of Kuan Yin on the kitchen shelf appeared to glow with colorful light.
Kuan Yin — the Goddess of Mercy. Kanon. Avalokiteshvara. The Bodhisattva of Compassion.
Angelo fell silent and looked at me strangely. Then, as though I had asked him about the statue, he began explaining how he had come to own it.
Later, Angelo took me to meet a couple who were fellow artists and potters, living downhill in the small town of Black Hawk, a few kilometers from Central City. I was treated as a special guest and offered the loan of a book — a large, thick, black hardcover volume titled The Book of Secrets.
In the prologue, it stated that only 87 copies had been printed.
I was holding one of them.
Inside were rich, glossy reproductions of original paintings depicting the wisdom of the ages — ancient mysteries and symbols from across human history. I saw Isis in all her glory. I saw Krishna in all His glory. I saw Zeus, Homer, Plato, and Apollo. I saw many sects and symbols of humanity throughout history.
I kept the heavy black book with me for a few days while staying at Angelo’s studio. Through it, I was introduced to Hermeticism, which I later pursued more deeply — the teachings attributed to Thoth Trismegistus.
My mind feasted on the images and symbols, creating stories and episodes around each one — making sense out of nonsense, or perhaps discovering meaning where none had yet been imposed.
That book was God-sent.
Looking back now, I see that I wasn’t being pushed away from any one tradition, nor pulled toward another. I was being taught how to see — how to recognize truth wherever it appeared, without needing to claim ownership of it. The voice in the dream did not offer comfort or condemnation; it simply named something that was already true.
What I carried away from that mountain was not a belief, but a way of walking.
Hashtags:
#Eclectic #TheArtOfLiving #StreetArtist #SpiritualJourney #HermeticWisdom #AsWithinSoWithout #DreamsAndSymbols #WisdomOfTheAges #KuanYin #Compassion #SeekingTruth #ArtistsLife #Consciousness #InnerWork #Stillness
No comments:
Post a Comment