Mystic Awareness and 9/11

From my September Newsletter:
On the eve of 9/11, I feel called to share again this painting inspired by a mystical vision that I experienced following the "Day of Remembrance" ceremony that took place in the wake of the terrorist attacks. It feels relevant in light of the controversy surrounding the current threat to burn the Qur'an and the building of a mosque near ground zero. Both of which fuel more divisiveness at a time when we need to come together as a people in order to best serve the healing of our world--this beloved Earth and her creatures (human and non-human) which are in peril during this evolutionary time.

There is a long history of mystics from all our religious traditions and many books written on mysticism, with an equal number of definitions unique to each individual. For me, the few moments of mystical awareness that I have been blessed to experience have included a feeling of non-duality and oneness with all creation: opening the heart to love and compassion for all beings. In The Mystic Heart, Wayne Teasdale writes:

"Mystical spirituality is also unitive; it seeks integration with the infinite. All theistic types of mysticism are interested in this integration, for the goal is to be invited into a permanent, divine union with God. This unity is the heart of all mysticism. It is awareness of non-duality and non-separation, of no distance between ourselves, the ultimate mystery, and all other beings."

The last sentence, especially, speaks to my experience. Such was the case during the "Day of Remembrance" ceremony facilitated by leaders from our local Jewish, Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, and Native American communities. There was such love present in the days and weeks following the tragedy of 9/11 and people of all faiths (and no faith) came together as One. That was the world I wanted to live in. A world with heart and compassion for all our fellow citizens. I had a vision of this painting, of holding the love, while riding the MAX home that night. It is a reminder for me of the love that we all felt during those dark days--and a vision of hope for the future.

My heart has become capable of every form: it is a pasture for gazelles and a convent for Christian monks, a temple for idols, and a Ka'ba for the pilgrims; it is a tablet of the Torah, and the book of the Koran. I profess the religion of Love, and whatever direction its steed may take, Love is my religion and my faith.
-Ibn Arabi, 12th c. Sufi

As always, I welcome your comments.

Beingness

On the importance of carving out time to simply be. "More and more I find that is the issue: how to create time, how to create buffers around us so that we are doing nothing. I think that may be our biggest disease right now--the disease of busyness. With all these modern conveniences that are supposed to be time-savers, I think we've never had less time. So I think creating open space, time to do nothing, time to love, time to be, time to dream, to think, to walk, is its own act of civil disobedience." -Terry Tempest Williams (In an interview with Michael Toms, New Dimensions Radio.)

I haven't posted here in weeks. Carving out time in the fading days of summer to "be" without stress nor the desire to do more than that while attending to the necessities of everyday living. Some activity in the studio--new sculpture and painting in progress--but allowing time to dream them into being. Spaciousness. Silence. Even though fire is the element of summer what I have been most alive to has been the element of air. The wind. The feel of it on my skin, watching the movement of the leaves in the trees, the birds playing at the feeder, and the breath. Spirit. In Hebrew, Ruah is the word for breath but also for spirit. Air, breath, spirit are one. Air is the one element (out of the four including earth, fire, water) that we can not see but is most essential to life itself and perhaps most taken for granted. In The Spell of the Sensuous, David Abram writes, "The air, we might say, is the soul of the visible landscape, the secret realms from whence all beings draw their nourishment. As the very mystery of the living present, it is that most intimate absence from whence the present presences, and thus a key to the forgotten presence of the earth." By being present to the air we breathe, we remember the sacredness of life, in this present moment. I have often felt that the most radical thing we can do is slow down and the quote above by Williams reinforces that for me. It is an on-going practice. And not always easy as it can open up emotional wounds that have been suppressed by the busyness of life. (A therapist or spiritual director can be of support during this time as it has been on my own journey.) Slowing down doesn't mean we are lazy or that we don't do our work in the world. We tend to our lives but we become mindful of the places where we create more stress than is necessary? In the desire for more stuff, more money, or the search for fame or the perfect partner? All the striving, which the Buddha recognized as the source of our suffering (along with our aversions). Simplifying our wants and our desires in order to live a more balanced, peaceful life. We only get one twirl around the dance floor of life so, for me, I want to be as present to life as possible. To beauty. Love. Art. That's what's been on my mind these last few weeks. How about you?

Rilke: Poet and Mystic

I read poetry nearly every morning as part of my spiritual practice. It is a way for me to ground into the present and connect more deeply to the Sacred through the holy words of the poet. Of course, Mary Oliver is one of my patron saints and quote her here often. Also David Whyte, John O'Donohue, and John Keats. Poets, past and present. For me, poets are mystics and this is especially true of Rainer Maria Rilke. I adore his Duino Elegies which are earthy yet transcendent. Such beauty. The last few days I've been reading his "Sonnets to Orpheus." Here is one that speaks to me and the lightness and the darkness of being.

II, 29

Silent friend of many distances, feel
how your breath enlarges all of space.
Let your presence ring out like a bell
into the night. What feeds upon your face

grows mighty from the nourishment thus offered.
Move through transformation, out and in.
What is the deepest loss that you have suffered?
If drinking is bitter, change yourself to wine.

In this immeasurable darkness, be the power
that rounds your senses in their magic ring,
the sense of their mysterious encounter.

And if the earthly no longer knows your name,
whisper to the silent earth: I'm flowing.
to the flashing water say: I am.

Translation: Stephen Mitchell

Loving the World

From my August Newsletter. To sign up for my monthly newsletter, go to www.sacredartstudio.net

August. For our earth-honoring ancestors, this is the month of Lammas, a time of thanksgiving which marks the middle of summer and beginning of the harvest season. Because of our wet Spring, harvest season arrived late here in my garden but there has been an abundance of lettuce and the tomatoes, cucumbers, and zucchini are finally coming in albeit slowly. Broccoli not so good. I'm still learning but everyday I go into the garden with delight to check on their progress while realizing that growing food, simplifying, and learning the ancient ways connects me to the ancestors. I like that. Our spiritual teachers tell us this is the remembering time. So, amidst the oil spill, global warming, the economic crisis, and the overall challenges of modern life, I'm acutely aware of the sacredness of each day and am mindful to not take this one "wild and precious life" for granted, to quote the poet Mary Oliver. In Messenger, she writes:

My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird -
equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.

Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect? Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be
astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all ingredients are here,

which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart
and these body-clothes,
a mouth with which to give shouts of joy
to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,
telling them all, over and over, how it is
that we live forever.

Oliver speaks so exquisitely to the holiness of our world. Seeing and paying attention to that which is at hand is at the heart of the creative process. "Standing still and learning to be astonished." Beauty. To create art, we must "learn to see" which requires slowness and attention. I remember my first art instructor during my undergraduate years who wadded up a large piece of white paper, threw it on the model stand, and told the class to draw it. Perplexed by the unglamorous nature of the subject, I remember that being one of the most challenging assignments I was asked to undertake. White was not just white. Under the light, and with more scrutiny, I saw colors of yellow, gray, pale blue, and lavender. Light and deep shadow. It was a valuable lesson in seeing and one that provided an early context in which to view the world around me. Not so many years later, my vision would be transformed once again but through grief and loss. Both the light and the dark invite us into a more intimate encounter with the world around us.

An exercise for practicing the art of seeing:
· Choose an object from nature or let it choose you.
· Sit in silence. Contemplate its characteristics.
· Notice the shape, color, texture, light, dark, edges.
· Feel it, smell it, and roll it around in your hands.
· Draw the object without looking at the paper.
· Or write a poem. Or move with it.

What did you notice?

How are you encountering the world? Are you taking time for the sunflowers and the hummingbirds? For creativity? To write? To draw? To dance? To grieve? To quote Oliver, all the ingredients are here, which is gratitude. Like our beloved poet, my work and, indeed, our work is in loving the world.

Praying by Mary Oliver

Once again, Mary Oliver for inspiration this morning. Like the vibrant Prism Violet splashing across the canvas in the early hours, paying attention to color, the silence, beauty....praying, praising...giving thanks.

Praying

It doesn't have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don't try
to make them elaborate, this isn't
a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.

-Mary Oliver, from Thirst

Despacho Ceremony

In 2006, I went on pilgrimage to Peru to learn and partake in the ancient spiritual teachings of the Andean people. This was a life-changing experience for me and their wisdom continues to inform my spiritual life. I've written about some of these teachings and the intention behind the journey (based on the Prophecy of the Eagle and the Condor) on my blog. Click here to read more. One of the most sacred rituals performed there is the despacho ceremony which are ceremonies of gratitude and thanksgiving to Pachamama (Mother Earth) or an Apus. While in Peru, we were told that the despacho is also considered a work of art, or a painting. It was at that moment I had a vision for the painting above. I knew when I returned home that I would create my own despacho, and then paint it as an offering to Pachamama.

The “despacho” is an ancient ceremony performed in the Andes. These are offerings to either Pachamama (Mother Earth) or an Apus (mountain spirit). The former is distinguished by an abundance of red objects/flowers, the latter by white. They typically begin with a shell in the center to represent the feminine, a cross to represent the masculine, and Kintus (3 cocoa leaves grouped together). In the Andes, additional items might include money, food items, ribbons, alcohol, dung, or a llama fetus. These are determined by the paqo or shaman performing the ceremony which is very elaborate and includes praying, group cocoa exchange as well as music and sharing of the pipe. Overall this was a magical and mystical experience for me and words just don't do it justice. For my painting, I went to the local market, chose items I felt would please Pachamama, and created my own despacho which I then painted as an offering. My process is one of devotion and is a prayer for the healing of the earth. Ayni, or reciprocity, is at the core of the Andean way of life and rituals like the despacho honor our relationships to the earth, the living energy, and to each other.

This past weekend, I was invited and honored to share this ceremony with my spiritual community, People of the Heart, during one of our shamanic training retreats. I substituted the cocoa leaves, which are illegal in the States, with another of the leaf family but included many sweets, grains, seeds, herbs, jewels, red flowers, and miscellaneous goodies that I felt would please Pachamama. Drumming and rattling. With reverence and gratitude, we each offered these gifts as prayers for healing ourselves, each other, and our world. Singing. When the ceremony was complete I bundled up the despacho, wrapped it in ribbon, and placed it in a cloth. Sending the bundle around the circle, we blew our breath and our prayers into the despacho. Drumming. After blessing everyone in the circle and a closing poem, we then buried the bundle on the land.

I feel humbled by the simple beauty of this ritual as a gift for the healing of our world, and the Earth. I give thanks to my teachers: dear friends and guides Carol, Jim, Terence; don Sebastian of the Q'ero; and the Winay Taki for sharing their wisdom with me/us.

In a time of returning, we give voice to the heart of the Earth.
With countless others awakening we walk upon Her now.
We are One Remembering
Women of Vision speaking to inspire what follows.
Love is our word
Men of Heart embracing, to shape new ways to live.
Communion
With each other making us One
And sustaining our interconnection with all life.
Sun, Moon, Stars, Earth, and Great Mountain Spirits.
Vision and heartfelt action benefiting all life
We are one of many within us all
We are restoring our story…

From Carol Stewart’s poem “Rainbow Threads”

Eden

Less words these days. Perhaps it is the languid pace of summer. Simply reveling in the beauty of the Earth. For me, the garden, Eden, is right here and right now. From poet and author Susan Griffin:

This earth is my sister;
I love her daily grace, her silent daring
and how loved I am -
how we admire this strength in each other,
all that we have lost, all that we have suffered,
all that we know;
we are stunned by this beauty,
and I do not forget;
what she is to me,
what I am to her.