Apparently I live everyone's dream
And why I know it's BS
Since I started building on my land- Ojo de Agua (The Water Eye) in a small bled in Mexican sierra in July 2021, I got lots of attention from my followers on social media. They were used to my art content. I was indeed until then a professional full time visual artist with a very prolific routine. I was pumping out new canvases every week like nobody’s business. I even lived (illegally) in my art studio, since I realized that I only spend 7 hours at home- to shower and sleep. Why waste another hour in transport and extra rent? I banged together an open upper floor from plywood and put a mattress on it. All I had to do in the morning was climb down a makeshift ladder and I could paint again. That was magic for me. Art was my life. Literally.
All of a sudden they see me laboring in mud and rain, clearing the abandoned coffee plantation and making something out of a ruin of whatever was left on the property.
To be blunt honest they were also used to my beach playboy slash new age junkie slash spiritual preacher slash gym rat slash chronic traveler….whatever my attention seeking pleaser ego decided to project on any given day. Yes I always was a hard working dedicated person, but I had no clue how deep my external validation complex went and what really mattered in life.
So there I was, full of conviction, juice and what I thought was unlimited resources, working alongside my Mexican muchachos, building walls, banging together roofs, falling trees and planting trees. Managing every aspect of it, from purchasing the material to the food on their table.
Over the years, my followers have seen me transform an abandoned overgrown mud pile into something that looked like a home with a massive garden (50+ acres) and even a future retreat center. What they didn’t know was how fast I was sinking into depression and how fast my energy was leaking. My initial optimism was replaced by hopelessness. Bad habits kicked in as coping mechanisms for the pain I felt before I realized the strength of the downward spiral.
Why did that happen is a gruesome and long story, but the short version would go something like this: I did not follow the initial calling of my heart (pretty clear instructions) and I let myself being lured by the grandiose visions of the ego (a lie). All it took was one day, one conversation with the wrong person. I remember that day as the day of my fall. Since that day I took one step away from the path and with each passing day I got further away from my true purpose. With each day it was harder to get back on the right railway.
Being a stubborn Aries born on Holy Friday the 13th I obviously did not give up (which I honestly should have) and I pushed on at all cost. Cost was high on many levels but the two most notable were finances and health. What eventually happened was inevitable and easily predictable. I can see it clearly now. Looking back everybody is a smart ass. Looking forward not so much.
Despite my numerous errors I did build a life and sorts of home here. It was not what I wanted and not what was meant for me. And I knew that none of the people who screwed me or sold me on their lies and unfulfilled promises were to blame. I let them do it because I would be the central figure of their grandiose vision, an admirable artist standing proud in his temple with gentle light falling on his roman face and butterflies fluttering around his impeccable aura. Ok, I’m exaggerating a bit here, but the core of the message is true. I was meant to built a simple healthy life here, a safe home for my healing and art. My heart so desired the nurturing peace and creativity away from the hassle of my externally oriented goals. Instead of that I built complexity. And complexity always drains.
There is one priceless thing I got out of this though. CLARITY. My life wasn’t an easy life. As you will learn along the way (if I continue sharing it) but it was a life of a winner. A guy who overcame each challenge and climbed every wall no matter how mean was the barbed wire on top. My muddy hill was my first defeat. It was my Waterloo. And through that I learned exactly what I want in life. I thought I knew that before, but boy I knew nothing. I had to revel in shit and get on humbled knees to finally see.
As I am sitting in my fortress up on the hill (that came later), looking out of the window into the lush green rolling hills extending all the way to Veracruz, I can’t help but smile. What the actual fuck Jan. The last Tarzan alive, stuck on a hill surrounded by complexity while he is supposed to be hanging from a branch in his art studio swinging his brush like a mad man, oblivious to what date or hour it is. It is poignant to the point of being funny. For me at least.
And now I realized that I never got to the part of why I am living everyone’s dream (allegedly) and why I know it’s BS. Sorry not sorry- I am a spontaneous writer. But that leaves me with good manure for the next post.
Stay tuned compadres!
