29.09.12

 

daily details 29.09.12

 

acrylics on textured canvas, stitching
[breathscribe-in-progress]


Breathe out, pour yourself into existence.
This is the method of compassion:
Drink in all the suffering and pour out all the blessings.
And you will be surprised if you do it.
The moment you take all the sufferings of the world inside you,
they are no longer sufferings.
The heart immediately transforms the energy.
The heart is a transforming force:
Drink in misery, and it is transformed into blissfulness … then pour it out.
Once you have learned that your heart can do this magic, this miracle,
you would like to do it again and again.

– Osho


creating from joy

 
Many years ago I copied Thuksey Rinpoche’s words of wisdom from Andrew Harvey’s book,  A Journey in Ladakh. I mounted them on card, and wherever I have set up a home and studio, they have been pinned up. I never tire of them, and it’s easy to see what an influence they have had on both my work and this website. Gratitude for this  profound teaching.

 

 

The most beautiful paintings and sculptures, the greatest poetry, have not always been born from torment or bitterness.

Often they have sprung from contemplation, from joy, from an instinct or wonder toward all things.

To create from joy, to create from wonder, demands a continual discipline, a great compassion. . . .

With time and sincerity, you will discover a way to work and write that does not harm you spiritually, that does not tempt you to vanity, that is the deepest expression of your spirituality.

You will find a voice that is not your voice only, but the voice of Reality itself. . . .

If you can be empty enough, that voice can speak through you.

If you can be humble enough, that voice can inhabit you and use you.

– Thuksey Rinpoche


From A Journey in Ladakh by Andrew Harvey

Photo credit: Prayer flags on the Digar La, Ladakh, Rudolph Abraham


the reach of your compassion is the reach of your art

 

Today is my birthday:  sixty six wondrous orbits of the sun.  Many people comment that Life seems to turn up the screws around one’s birthday time, and it’s certainly been the case here.

About a month ago wonderingmind studio began being dismantled.  Materials, paints, equipment disappeared into cartons.  Some found their way to the art department of a local school for autistic kids.  Some went to a charity that organizes art and creativity events for city youngsters.

Works-in-progress and completed pieces came down off the walls.  Shelving was flat-packed, books sorted and passed on.

It was like packing up a life – which is exactly what it was.

And what a timely opportunity to take stock!  I was over at Zen Dot Studio recently and found that its author is also in the midst of moving house.  I loved the way she had penned her thoughts and observations about the moving process and all that it reveals, and wished I’d had more energy to blog my own.  But it was all too exhausting at the time.

It’s one thing to move from one home/studio to a new one and quite another to pack up a life without knowing when – or where – it will emerge from the boxes again.  My boxed life has gone into a storage unit.  My unencumbered life is moving on.

It demands to be let loose again; the circumstances that constrained it for the past decade (caring for precious parents) have changed.  There have been long months in that intense and deep place called Griefland, which I have come to understand is really a place of R & R.  And of adjustment – to absence.  It heals.  Allowing the energies to bubble to the surface of the lifestream, embracing them and loving them, has worked wonders.  The stream enters deeper waters, vast, silent, unknown. I know this ‘place’ – I call it the via creativa.  Another chapter begins …

Joseph Campbell wrote that the reach of your compassion is the reach of your art.  I feel that the gift of this past decade – the gift my ancient, beloved Mum and Dad gave me – was the swelling and bursting open of a heart that had become pretty dried up by life’s apparent disappointments.  From a shriveled up pea it has slowly unfurled into a quivering flower.  Its perfume is Compassion.

How will it express itself?  Will there be more art-making?  Perhaps.  Meanwhile, it is reaching out to simply share.  And so, I scribble on this little blog.