“I have worked hard to give up a place ordained by others in the world….” — Mark Nepo
“I have worked hard to give up a place ordained by others in the world, for this always leads me into noise, confusion and gruffness.”
— Mark Nepo, The Book of Awakening
My aim in teaching is the same for my students as it is for myself: to give up the place “ordained by others” and step into my own particular place in the world. The world cannot find me if I don’t find myself. I begin class with more than an idea, more than faith: it is the experience that each student who shows up has a gift — a gift that no one else has. The contemplative atmosphere in the classroom cultivates work that is distinct to each student. In our recent class in Taos, New Mexico, all the students worked with the same structure, tools, book form, and alphabet — and yet delicious creations arose that are unlike anything or anyone else. (Images from students below).
Art as Devotion
I had the doors and windows open so that birdsong could come in. I heard the high trill of a melody that comes only in spring, repeated over and over with the passion of a love song. I went outside with my binoculars to investigate. A bird less than half the size of my hand stood in the branches of the tulip poplar, singing his blue heart out.
Indigo is the wrong name, at least now, in the breeding season. He is an impossibly brilliant mix of turquoise, ultramarine and cobalt that covers his entire body. The only indigo is on his wing tips and around his beak. Regardless of what color he is known by, the indigo bunting is dedicated to singing until someone answers, until someone responds to his call. He waits to be answered, and sings and sings. When he sings, it is with every feather; everything vibrates, down to the tip of his tail. He holds nothing in reserve. This is devotion.
Delight
“The more stuff you love the happier you will be.”― Ross Gay, The Book of Delights
The nature of synchronicity* is surprise and delight. Those moments when the gods seem to collude in unexpected ways to make astonishment manifest. All kinds of things happen without any apparent cause, conspiring to make the impossible possible. It’s the feeling that something outside you has unexpectedly touched and answered an inner yearning.
You have all had moments of synchronicity, moments that confirm the connection between the inner and outer world. Something that has no causal explanation. I find I am often more open to this while traveling, wandering, or being in a strange place. Generally when I am away from my long list of things to do. I am not trying to get from A to Z. It happens when I am no longer expecting to know what I will find, but just noticing things. Transitions are a good time for synchronicity.
"Come, let's stand by the window..." — Danusha Laméris
Each morning after meditation when I head down to my studio, there is a process of re-orientation. I used to think that after I had been painting this long I would walk into my studio and know what to do. This hasn’t happened yet. So I begin with my opening ritual — a way of re-orienting a mind in chaos. I take a glass from the altar and fill it with clear water. I light incense and ring a bell. Above the altar I have pictures of my guides, friends and family. I express my gratitude. An old greeting card is also posted on the wall, with a child’s drawing of a train climbing up a hill with the caption yes you can, yes you can, yes you can.