Ghost and the artist.

The days have been a blur. How long has it been? The weeks are months and the months years. This time of year is special, because I feel more real. The afterlife continues where life ended. In this forest. Tied to this realm unable to move on completely into the eternal peace. Something is keeping me here. I am looking for something, but what it was has faded away with the seasons. Dwelling the forest gives no answer to the unsettling feeling. The feeling that something is missing. An uncomfortable feeling. Living in a third dimensional painting. All the paint palette came to life, but I have been long dead.

The carpet of the forest floor makes no swooshing sounds of leaves. It’s depressing… There is no sound of crunching leaves, butt another sound - the sound of a crackling fire? Yes there it is. The glow of a camp fire. Next to this glow is a man sketching in a book by the dim light of sunset. Why has he come here? On THIS side of the mountain where no one really comes?

 “Oh hello” he looks up smiling.

He can’t possibly see me? I turn around to make sure there is no one behind me who he can possibly be greeting.There is no one there?

“Are you ok?” his voice is concerning.

“No, I am fine. Hello…” I speak and in the way he smiles again realize this moral man can see ghosts.

“Would you like to sit?”

“Sure…” I feel unsure, but he is handling the situation very well for someone seeing a ghost. There is now an strange silence between us. It’s called awkward silence – meeting a stranger in the woods – a ghost, but also inviting the stanger ghost to sit next the the camp fire.

“I’m Alex.”

“I’m Joan.”

“Oh, like Joan of Arc?”

“Yes, and you… are Alex like from Madagascar?”

He smiles. Not just in a polite way, but in a genuine way. How long has it been since someone smiled at me?

“Why have you come here?” It is a mystery and I do need to ask, because no none comes to this side of the mountain.

“I came camping because I needed a break from reality. I am stuck - I want to make art that moves people. That when they look at it they look within. Something unique that even after hundreds of years of art it stands out in its own way. I have all these ideas and dreams in my head, but I just can’s seem to catch it on a page. I feel lost…” Now he looks a bit shy, but the feeling of being emotionally overwhelmed covers it quickly.

“I know how you feel.”

“You do?” It is the innocent question like when a child asks you how you know that life is hard.  

“Being lost is not always a bad thing. It can always lead you to other things. New adventures and new experiences that you might not have come across if you where not lost. As in regards to not being able to … not being able to make the connection to what you want. If you really want something you really can have it.” It is ironic how these words are coming from me. This is how I feel yes, but I don’t know WHY.

“What do you want, Joan?”

“I want to be free. I want to be seen. I want to be found.”

“Well, if you want to be free you came to the right place. We are on the same page. We have a lot in common.” Everything he says is so calm. He probably does not realize that I am a ghost.

“Yes, i guess we do have a lot in common On the bright side. We are not lost. You found me.”  

“Mmmmm I found you… lucky me… I wonder a lot through these woods always alone. Its nice to have some company.”

“What did you come here for? Why are you really here? Arn’t you scared alone in the woods?” I asked him why he came so he has every right to ask me.

“I came here looking for peace.” Campfire crackling and sun setting. Most people would think its magical and majestic, but I feel to empty now to appreciate it. He understands now that I did not mean peace and quiet, but making peace with something.

“Have you found it yet?” As if asking if I found a object that has been missing and not a feeling.

“Not yet…."

“Its hard to make peace with the things you cant change.”

“I cant make peace with the life I lost.”

“Oh…. I see. ”

“You do?” Does he understand that I am a ghost?

“Yes, I  had to give up a comfortable life for the life of uncertainty. I closed every door alright. Sometimes I almost looked back at the life I could have had, but then I realized If you let what is holding you back overtake you you’ll never grow into the person you are meant to be. I chose this path I will have to walk it… my girlfriend left me after i quit my job to live the artist life, I made my peace.” Okay so it is clear now that every answer I give he takes philosophically and metaphorically, not physically. He really is a true artists at heart. Probably the reason why he can see me.

“What life did you lose?”

“Oh same like you the life of comfort and certainty.” I have to play along now no point and bursting his bubble that I am ACTUAULLY dead and have indeed, lost my life.  

“How did you make peace and let go if I may ask, Alex? – you know with the whole your girlfriend leaving you for the artist life?”

“Oh damn that was hard. Phew. I just didn’t want to live a bitter and resentful life anymore. Weird to say, but I was tired of crying. I didn’t want to be held back anymore. Everyone was moving on with their lives and happy with their chosen professions and I just felt I deserved to life my happy life too and then I realized only I could give it to myself. It ook some mind set shifting and perspective changing… but then my mom said this one thing that just changed everything…”

“What?” His artistic answer was great and all, but maybe this can actually lead somewhere maybe I can move on into the afterlife.

“My mom said that you have to embrace the bad as you embrace the good. You have to enjoy the view from the valley as you enjoy the view from the top. Sounds fucked up, but you will have to enjoy the bad times to. Who knows they might me the good old days to the future’s past You are…”

 “Interesting…” This is his perspective of life. It is the idealism that he has chosen.

“Yeah. Life balances itself out I had an awesome mom, but never knew my dad. I had a girlfriend, but now I am inlove with my work. I love my art, but my art does not always love me… And you know what kid? Its okay - it takes highlights and shadows to make a masterpiece…”

“That is true…” Maybe it does not matter what I have to make peace with, but just make the peace and move on. It does not matter how long I have been here, but that I have been here long enough. I might never find out what happened to me, but I can’t ask this stranger if he maybe knows how I died. It would ruin the moment. Would knowing how died and maybe why give me peace to move on? No?

“I think… I think… I am ready to move on… I have made my peace. You gave me a different perspective on life. Thank you ,Alex.”

The starts look great. They always have here in the woods. I want to be up there not down here anymore. Fingertips start fading into the shadows of the night. Hands start disintegrating into sparkles of night. Alex eyes widen as he realizes I am disappearing.

“Goodbye , Alex.”

“Bye, Joan.” It comes out as a croak. He is a bit in shock but manages the words out.

Finally, my body becomes one with the starlight. The starts of the galaxy that I have always looked up to from below I am now part of in death. If feels good of letting, go.

The journey of being lost has come to a final destination.

I can now accept death’s sweet invitation.

Cought between the living and the dead.

Now the starts will be my eternal resting bed.

Too be lost has it advantages as well.

Where it will lead you no one can tell.