This Isn't A Contest
There is a way to come back to ourselves, to create with gusto, when the world can feel like a giant steam roller of information and competition. This weekend a couple of our friends, who have converted a room in their home into a gallery, invited about a dozen of us to come over and see the exhibit, drink some wine, eat fresh baked bread, and have a conversation. It wasn't about evaluating the work, dealing out praise or blame, or selling. It was about ideas and friendship, creativity and play. I made discoveries about other artists that enlivened me. Our friends even re-designed the labels for the wine they served:
"You Can't Discover the Product Until You're Making It" –Stephen Colbert
There was an article this week in the NY Times on Stephen Colbert's new role as the host of "The Late Show". In spite of the fact that he has been preparing all summer, he said: You can't discover the product until you're making it. This is the one of the characteristics of art, whether it is music, painting, teaching or theatre– if you already know what you are going to do, it loses vitality, and the delight of surprise. It is the paradox of being immersed in preparedness and open to the moment. This is both terrifying and a relief– for when we can forget about ourselves and the thing we are making, we become a vessel for creation– which is always more than we could imagine.
You Must Revise Your Life
The title, You Must Revise Your Life*, by William Stafford, many of you will recognize. What books are you reading? Who do you really enjoy spending time with? What do you do to nourish those friendships? How much of what you do is motivated by who you really are, and how much is duty? What do you do that has nothing to do with what someone else thinks, or has any practical value? The answer to the last question for me has been taking silent walks in the woods. No matter where you are, quietly observing the world around you alters your perspective.
Are You Guided by Aim or Fate?
I love returning to a book or a poem that is well written, as there is always something new that emerges, or something I have read before, but now I understand more deeply. There is a scene from Tolkein's The Lord of the Rings, when an arrow, against all odds, hits its mark. Tolkien says: It was guided by aim or fate. What an image! We have all had the experience of something coming to pass where there seemed to be a force outside the realm of cause and effect at work. How much of our work results from our aim, our will– and how much from something that we cannot quite pin down?
Dawn Comes
This is one of my favorite paintings of Paul Klee– one I got to see in person in Switzerland. The title, together with the moon, give it humor and timelessness. Our longing toward wholeness and timelessness is universal, along with those numinous moments that bring us back to awareness. Here is a story of what happened this week–
Keeping Secrets
Is the idea of keeping something secret, of privacy, of cultivating something in our inner world before it is said or shown out loud, getting lost? I am not speaking of those long, dark secrets– what I mean is sometimes we have the impulse to report immediately, to send an instant response– tweet! What I am trying to do is counter this impulse by pausing to find out where I am before I click.
Part II: What Happened After
My husband was watching the radar screen to track my plane on the way home, as it went around a gigantic storm. That night we heard the loudest, deepest, reverberating roar of thunder ever. It was so imperative that it reminded me of Laurens van der Post's book, The Voice of the Thunder, where he describes thunder as"an urgent manifesto for renewal in the human spirit".
Part I: The Calm Before the Storm
Madeline Island is one of 21 Apostle Islands in Lake Superior. This was my view arriving by ferry:
When I arrived at the Madeline Island School of the Arts, I gave myself time to be still and take in the vista from my window. In the mornings I could hear the loud, resonant wooden rattle of the Sandhill Cranes calling. I brought a couple books with me– including World Enough & Time by Christian McEwan. I was struck by this quote from Kafka:
Wherever You Are, You Can Create Temenos
Temenos, meaning sacred space, comes from the Greek, and refers back to place that is a sanctuary in the natural world. When I teach for just two days at our local art store, the natural world is far away. How can I create a venerated space in a classroom at the back of an art store?
Ordinary Magic
"The true voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having fresh eyes." -Proust
I have been reading World Enough & Time by Christian McEwen. She interviews the Scots poet, Thomas Clark. She asks him his advice on homework for her students that are aspiring poets. His answer was not what she expected, and applies to any of us who wish to make room for whatever it is we are reaching for: