Wandering
As many of you know, Steven and I have designated "Sabbatical Sundays" as the day we turn off our cell phones and computers, and find another way to enter the day. As much as I love solitude, it is curious to see the extent to which my mind is captured by the impulse to check this or that on my gadgets– fingers and a mind that resist being still. You could say that these Sundays are a kind of mind experiment. One Sunday Steven woke up and said "Let's go east!" This is the day of the week we often get in the car and head out on adventures without the advantage of GPS– and both of us having a tendency to get lost. So without any plan, we left before breakfast and drove through the rolling hills of central Kentucky. I was captured by all the old tobacco barns with the "hex" signs.
New Year's Eve Tidings
This morning before first light, I was greeted by the hoo-hooing of a pair of owls outside our window. I had gone to sleep reading Jung's "Memories, Dreams & Reflections", and his thoughts on death, alchemy and eternity. Perhaps these ideas are more prevalent with the ending of another year, and the mystery of what is beginning. This poem from Rumi came to mind:
Making Order Out of Chaos
Everyone has his or her own way of working. For me there are times when I need to step back from the creative chaos that has taken over my studio, let the paintings germinate, and re-create order. This is the phase I am in now. I began this week by cleaning, organizing, sorting– letting go of things I no longer need. This is a somewhat difficult task to stay focused on, as all along the way I come across scraps of papers with phrases like: “old and broken boat” and “the festal intention of these flowers was revealed” * – with no note about where these words came from. Without knowing what it means, something happens when I ponder the festal intention of the flowers. I feel lighter.But it’s almost Thanksgiving, and I must get back to creating order, making room for something to happen.
Mind of Winter
Sometimes I catch myself thinking (with frustration)– what is the next great idea I can come up with for my work? Then I remind myself that paying close attention to the ordinary, the common things– that this is where the magic resides. And this is how I open my eyes.
I was disturbed by the "tree eating machines" that were taking down our ash trees, stricken with the Emerald Ash Borer, and went out for a walk. I went off the path in the woods and found a fallen ash tree lying across the field. When I removed the bark, I discovered these beautiful patterns:
Invocation to the Night
This morning the full moon is on the floor of my sitting room– making me reluctant to turn on any lights. There is no other light like moonlight.
I look forward to this time of year, heading toward the winter solstice. It is the pull toward night, seeing the stars and milky way, and the silence of the desert that draws me back to Ghost Ranch, where I have been going for over twenty years.
On Time: It is better to have loafed and lost than never to have loafed at all. –James Thurber
Perhaps a more accurate title for our class in Italy would be: Sketching, Watercolor, Wine and Loafing. This photo is taken on the streets of Orvieto, as we sat and listened to these lively musicians, sipping our cappuccino. We were stopping along the way to the duomo, which has (among many other overpowering delights) a black and white zebra pattern to the marble.
Wandering in Umbria: A workshop at La Romita School of Art
The sense of local, of what is particular to a place, along with the absence of chains, of Starbucks, in itself is a delight In these small Umbrian towns. Back home, I am longing for my coffee to taste like it does in Italy- and to have the sense of history, art and time that is embedded in stone here.
Acting As If
Sometimes when we are faced with a difficult task (or person), even one that seems impossible, it helps to change what we call it, or how we think about it.
I was listening to Ellen Langer, a psychologist and writer from Harvard, who has done many studies on the power of how we name, or think about something. For example, she did a famous study on people in their mid to late 80’s (back when 80 was 80, not the new 60). In this experiment all the people involved went on a retreat together where the entire atmosphere was created as if it were 20 years earlier. The participants were asked to fully enter into this world in the “present”, as if they too, were 20 years younger. At the end of the study, their hearing and eyesight had improved, they had renewed energy, they had essentially become younger! Another study was with chamber maids who spent the whole day on their feet, but worried about having time to exercise, and could not lose weight. In this study they were told to change their thinking about their work and name it exercise, and lo and behold, they lost weight! (This also relates to the difference between doing something mindlessly, and doing it mindfully– just noticing what is happening).
Returning Home
Haven't we wanted, all along, to try on boundlessness like mutable, starry clothes? This phrase from Mark Doty's poem, Nocturne in Black and Gold, comes to mind on return from Canyon de Chelly, where I had the privilege of spending a week with ten women– one of whom is a Dine (Navajo) guide. It was a poetry retreat.