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One World: “My Goodness is Stamped Upon My Universe”
With scores of art hung or placed, to be viewed, admired, and judged. Unique perspectives of the world seen, felt, observed, with inner life exposed, perception expressed. The viewer ponders, is inspired, wonders what is meant, and feels enlivened in viewing. Circling the room, something within now seen, reflected in another’s art, the elucidation of a moment lived. Gratitude rises in being offered another outlook, a different interpretation, a point of view that brings a chuckle, a sigh or a tear. Art is a way our society grows, and learns, as it breathes a spark into now, and forever into then.
“Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen.”
Leonardo da Vinci
“Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.”
Pablo Picasso
“In art, what we want is the certainty that one spark of original genius shall not be extinguished.”
Mary Cassatt
“The self is a creation, the principal work of your life, the crafting of which makes everyone an artist.”
Rebecca Solnit, THE FARAWAY NEARBY
The canvas sits cradled on my easel as I stand silent before it, waiting— a mirror reflecting the emptiness felt in this moment. Once I lift my hand, select a brush, dip it in water, touch into yellow ochre, cobalt blue, or quinacridone crimson, I am committed. I am choosing to create, make the first line, open the door to the unknown, that which desires life. Knowing that the act itself changes me, I move. While I create, I am created, formed, informed. Each act— conversation, writing, music, painting, dancing, crafting, carving, sculpting, loving, praying, listening, reading— creates this life. My life. This self. Opens me to truth, denial, rejection, courage, fear, love, hate, joy, birth, death, and passion. Nothing lies hidden. The act is life, creating self, on the journey of becoming.
In a word in a phrase a statement a question a pause a declaration. We choose in words in silence how we flow in the heart of conversation. With a smile a tear a peel of laughter a frown a growl of frustration a look of repose. Feeling joy now sadness bewildered encouraged compassion to pride. Experiencing not feeling heard wanting to walk away wanting to stay engaged connection. Forming eye contact a gentle touch hands for expression working side by side a walk with talk a chat in the car. Now, a heart opening a heart closing a heart with vision a heart with fear communicating oneness communicating care. Being awake Being aware Inviting in we meet.
“One good conversation can shift the direction of change forever.”
Linda Lam
“A real conversation always contains an invitation. You are inviting another person to reveal herself or himself to you, to tell you who they are or what they want.”
David Whyte
“Silence is one of the great arts of conversation.”
Marcu Tullius Cicero
Ongoing Resource List: Reading for the Heart and Mind
In Honor of my daughter’s 45th Birthday
Butterfly wings ripple a message, a wave, felt by all, unaware. Self-creation, work of my life my artistry my destiny. I lay down brush, close the lid rest for eternity, and a day. What? You still feel my vibration, the imprint of having been here? May it be as gentle as the butterfly, graceful as the swan, the whisper of a cloud. To the children of the children of the children, the butterfly sends a ripple.
“The self is also a creation, the principal work of your life, the crafting of which makes everyone an artist. This unfinished work of becoming ends only when you do, if then, and the consequences live on. We make ourselves and in so doing are the gods of the small universe of self and the large world of repercussion.”
Rebecca Solnit from The Faraway Nearby
“The visible and the invisible working together in common cause, to produce the miraculous.”
David Whyte
On Going Resource List: Reading for the Heart and the Mind
Flowing steadily our river rises, rains and snow melt flooding the banks. Like a snake she twists and turns. We stand on high ground see trees pulled into the flow weakening the boundaries set over time. With one drop then another we too fill and overflow. Joy, sorrow, love, breaking through perceived boundaries created in protecting our perception of self. Like the river we allow the flow, the expansion, the risk of being more than we thought in our limited view of the whole.
“Water does not resist. Water flows. When you plunge your hand into it, all you feel is a caress. Water is not a solid wall, it will not stop you. But water always goes where it wants to go, and nothing in the end can stand against it. Water is patient. Dripping water wears away a stone. Remember that, my child. Remember you are half water. If you can’t go through an obstacle, go around it. Water does.”
Margaret Atwood, The Penelopiad
“Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it.”
Norman McLean, A River Runs Throught It and Other Stories
“Have you also learned that secret from the river; that there is no such thing as time?”
Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha
Ongoing Resource List: Reading for the Heart and Mind
Washing out my palette, old, dried watercolors unused in these past two years, mixing, circling, draining away. Taking memories steeped in color. Feelings awash in hue. Plans that glisten in colors of hope.
Today, Payne’s Gray seems an appropriate color to wash this troubled world. It makes the most sense in these days of cautious and reactionary perspectives, yet I know that within this gray I could add a dab of Opera Pink that would remind me of life that continues to grow and thrive within the dark, a flashy point of freedom, abandon, joy. And if Opera Pink seems too harsh, we could even offer Permanent Alizarin Crimson, or Lemon Yellow, to quicken our heart. Gray has purpose and consequence; it is gray that allows the pure hue to shine.
I remember the day I thought gray covered my life as the infant I birthed was close to her death. Forty-one years later, I remember her entire lifetime of seven days encapsulated in one moment of color. Driving home after seven days in hospital, we arrived at the intersection of Franklin Avenue and River Boulevard. As I look up toward the bluffs of the Mississippi River I gasp in awe at the green before me. Green searing into my heart. I weep with shock and joy for these vibrant colors that I forgot existed. Permanent Green Light, Sap Green, Olive, Phthalo Green Blue Shade, all dancing in the bright late summer light of mid-day. I shield my eyes. It is more than I can fully absorb in the moment.
The gray of my mother’s death surrounded another color that was transmitted, Permanent Rose. The gentle days sitting vigil with chanting, then washing her body, honoring her with rose petals. The color rose brought me to a journey of my own heart opening.
My father’s death brought me to a soft green as being with him in his final days brought healing to my life, a balance and harmony to body and mind that I could not previously experience with him.
My sister’s death brings a variety of colors of joy through red, purple, yellow, and pink. Even within her gray years with Alzheimer’s she could radiate her giggles, her inner trickster, her sweet hugs.
Our world is awash in color but somedays we only see the gray as it is now in my part of the world with winter not having heard that spring has arrived and the skies and land are soft brown, and cool gray. If I look closer, I detect Raw Sienna, Cerulean Blue, Raw Umber, and Burnt Sienna. There now is the brilliant red of cardinal on the blue-green spruce. He brings a smile.
It is understood that we all see the same color differently. We each bring our own experience of color, our own unique perception of the refraction of light and more to the way we experience color. Possibly today is the color of calm. Maybe power and strength. Colors can bring a feeling of intensity or sadness, joy, and freedom. So many expressions of emotion.
On this day, might we bring a bit of green for healing, the yellow of happiness and hope, the rose of compassion, the violet of inner peace, the red of love, the orange of vitality, the purple of creativity, and not without a bit of black for mystery, just to round it out.
“Nature always wears the colors of the spirit.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson
“It’s okay to show off all your colors.”
Luis Guzman
“The rainbow is a part of nature, and you must be in the right place to see it. It’s beautiful, all the colors, even the colors you can’t see. That really fits us as a people because we are all the colors. Our sexuality is all the colors. We are all the races, genders, and ages.”
Gilbert Baker
“The first challenge in writing about colors is that they don’t really exist. Or rather they do exist, but only because our minds create them as an interpretation of vibrations that are happening around us. Everything in the universe—whether it is classified as ‘solid’ or ‘liquid’ or ‘gas’ or even ‘vacuum’— is shimmering and vibrating and constantly changing. But our brains don’t find that a very useful way of comprehending the world. So we translate what we experience into conepts like ‘objects’ and ‘smells’ and ‘sounds’ and, of course, ‘colors’, which are altogether easier for us to understand.” Color: A Natural History of the Palette by Victoria Finlay
On Going Resource List
Words are the most powerful thing in the universe… Words are containers. They contain faith, or fear, and they produce after their kind.”
—Charles Capps
I sit and stare at a blank screen trying to conjure up words, craft a sentence, develop a theme. I find nothing new arises, except the awareness that I have used so very many words in my writing over these past days.
Early in the week, my words wove into a tribute to my mother on the 100th anniversary of her birth, followed by my El Camino memories crafting into a broader memoir, then continuing the arduous task of writing my life and complicated ancestry into a more developed timeline in story form for my kids and grandkids.
I realize that within this feeling of empty there resides a deep satisfaction in the artistry of words, flowing like a rhythmic dance, whether they mean anything to anyone else does not intrude. It is the feeling when I am lost in painting and it all connects, when the spices are just right in the dish crafted for dinner, or the tree, the sun, and the shadow align in perfect symmetry for the photo I snap.
Then, there is a moment of empty, a day of rest, or possibly the eternity hidden within the pause between each breath—a long moment to take it in, deep within, and ready myself for the next flash of inspiration. We can’t consume so fully every day. We need rest, contemplation, review, as a time to pull it all together and see the whole.
The truth of this comes to me as it has been a span of four years since I walked El Camino and the full review of my blogs, journal, and post trip review, reveal to me what I could not see then. They point to where I am today. They beg me to go deeper into an event revealing something in me or other that I could not see before. The pause has deepened my experience. The space of time has opened my heart.
Today, empty is a feeling of full.
In my part of the world, we have been operating in relentless heat, mid-July steaminess which has shown itself in early June. Purple Iris stood tall and opened all in one day. A week later pink Peonies, the ones with the soft yellow center, stood tightly budded and then unfurled themselves in a day as if they were emerging from a long Covid winter ready to party. The next day they were spent, exhausted, and drooped in their last breath.
A friend and I escaped by driving an hour and a half north to the shores of Lake Superior to celebrate our birthdays. It felt like stretching our long unused wings with walks along the shore, watching a freighter from New York enter the harbor to unload their wares, dining in restaurants, sitting on the balcony and listening to the waves, and visiting shops opening to customers ready to see a new shiny object, piece of art, a new frock.
With too much isolation, too much heat, a plethora of bad news, the greater world still amid this pandemic, and continuing to be cautious even with vaccine on board, we run outside to laugh, scream, hug, and let ourselves breathe fully.
I recently joined a four-hour workshop to get my artist gears oiled and ready to paint the world again. I had felt rusty and lacking in confidence as Covid time had swept me into house projects, writing projects, and generally out of my normal routine. My vision has now shifted once again and I am looking at the world wondering, how do I capture that green, the lighthouse in the harbor, the softness of the clouds? It is joy to my heart.
We do not know what lies ahead. Each generation has endured times when we rely on hope in our uncertainty, grit to move through what we must, and determination to make it to a more forgiving tomorrow. As in any grief story, we cannot stay too long in the depths of the story. We need to take moments of joy as they come, laugh in the face of what seems absurd, run around the block when we have sat too long, and bring kindness into a cynical world.
The pink peonies, named Bowl of Beauty, were pushed to burst forth in the moment they were offered. I thank them for their fleeting wonder, now a memory that I draw forth at will with color and perfume fully alive within me.
I am finished with the drawing class and grateful; grateful for the learning and grateful to have some space in my life. Learning was often a struggle as when it is possible to see where one wants to go but not sure how to get there. I did learn and am both proud of and surprised at what I accomplished. Finally, it all came together.
I lost a rhythm to my life when the class started and have not painted in months, have not been writing, and have not picked up the pencils again. Life is full of distractions and usually those distractions involve people I love and care about or work that needs to be done both paid and in the home.
Today is a day to begin again and find the courage to write and push that muscle to contract and expand as the thoughts rise to the surface and bring focus to the inner realm. The class taught me to see. There will be days when I will be blind to what is before me but the work in this class taught me that looking and then looking again is a good exercise in allowing the brain to make the connection with the perceived object. When drawing from a photo of the north shore, what I thought were some complicated branches in the lower right hand corner and had decided to ignore were on second and third look, a week or two later, large boulders with veins and rust. All being important features to the whole that I merely cast aside as being “too hard” and dismissed as not important. When I realized they were boulders, I could not fathom how they could be seen as anything else as they were so clear. When opening my eyes with an open mind, I felt excited by how interesting these features were and they turned out to be fun to draw.
This habit follows us and happens many times in life. We see or hear based on what we believe not by what we truly see or hear. In the moment of looking, when not fully present, we add judgment to the act of looking. We define and categorize what we believe we perceive. We add another layer to the moment of experience. It is like looking at a rainy day and deciding we do not like this day for the rain. When we open our hearts to the day, we see the way the world becomes more green with the watering; we delight in the puddles; we explore the play of hiding under an umbrella; and, we connect as one with the experience of life.
Final Drawing Project