‘The world needs you to be pleasant. But the spiritual process is about transcendence, not good behaviour.’
Hi, my name is Artemis. I’m from England. That makes me European.
I lived in London for twenty-five years. During that time I followed a meandering path. Not to say chaotic, although it did sometimes meander at quite a pace.
When I was 24 I began working for an Eighteen Century Art dealer. There was a portrait by Joshua Reynolds on the wall above my desk and the loo and the kitchen were one room. Billionaires bought art from us who later got locked up for fraud. Not all of them got locked up. Just one actually. One’s enough.
For a while I worked for the Earl of Burlington in his town house in Berkeley Square. To pay the mortgage, you know.
After that I became an art dealer myself, down on Golborne Road, in the shadow of the Trellick Tower. Here, the loo and the kitchen were separate but there was no Reynolds. Instead, I specialised in the not particularly commercial field of feminist performance art. It was important and fun and a bit wild.
I got engaged to a Stewart-Liberty, spin bowler come furniture dealer. Shortly after that I got un-engaged.
When the financiers blew up Wall Street in 2008 I stopped being an art dealer and became instead an art writer. I wrote about contemporary art for The Economist and The Guardian and a bunch of other publications. I wrote a novel that I didn’t finish.
Because before I had time to finish it I got involved in setting up a property maintenance company with my then husband. He was a world-champion martial artist from Iran. A bit bossy. To be frank. We worked out of a former council house in Clapham at first and then, when the Council found out and evicted us, we moved to a fancy three-storey office in Wandsworth, overlooking the Common.
Then I got unmarried. C’est la vie.
Shortly after my Dad died I wrote a second novel. This time I finished it. I hope to get it published soon.
I spend a lot of time practicing yoga and meditation. I suppose you might say I’m passionate about yoga and meditation, but that wouldn’t really be the case. It’s more that yoga and meditation saved me. And they continue to save me every, single day.
Yoga is not therapy. Yoga is the divine.
Thanks to yoga and meditation and the Work of Byron Katie, thanks to Plum Village and the West London Buddhists, thanks to biodanza and Spain and my friends and a million educational You Tube videos, I’m now a happy person. The chaos quota has come right down. Contentment incoming.
Self-enquiry isn’t always a smooth road, or an easy road. But it is always a wonderful road.
This blog is about my life and my healing journey.
I left London just before lockdown to nurse my old Dad. Now he’s gone back to his maker I’m going to Spain.
This blog is not full of tips and tricks. There’s no smoothie recipes. No pincha mayurasana variations. And no 5 star hotels in the Maldives. I won’t be wearing a bikini either. Not on the internet at least.
This blog is about ‘real’ life. The mud and the lotus. The road to joy.
Welcome to my little corner of the internet. Thanks for stopping by.