stillness

I just got off the phone with a podcast, On Being with Krista Tippett interviewing Pico Iyer.  I had never heard of this man, but apparently, he's friends with some of my favorite knowns such as the Dalai Lama and Leonard Cohen.  He also lives in a very remote, mostly off the grid home in Kyoto and has a place in the US as well where he works in almost solitude on writing and thinking.  In this interview, he spoke of how in his twenties he became very successful - in the American fashion - as a journalist in NYC.  By "American fashion," I mean the fast paced, forward moving, self aggrandizing, never enough conventions that I know I, myself, grew up believing was my ticket to... Gosh, I'm not sure what I thought the ticket was for!  So then, at 29 he hit a wall, knew he needed something less like "distraction" and more like "attention," and embarked on a career of solitude, stillness and the resulting writings about his evolving philosophies on those human rights.

Wow Wow Wow.

I am so relieved as I contemplate what I just listened to. (....and of course there was more to it than stillness and solitude, so really, have a listen.)  The reason I feel relieved is that recently, I've uncovered in myself that convention of "fast-paced-forward-moving-self-aggrandizing-never-enough" and found it to be terribly uncomfortable and something from which I'd like to be free.  Having been convinced throughout my adolescence and young adulthood (via parent, church, school, and community norms and direction) that this American "way" is The Way, it's been a struggle with my SuperEgo to realize that it's not the only director in my psyche, but there are other players who not only have a critical voice, but have to be acknowledged and tended to.  Those other players have abstract names that are only relevant to me (the voices in my head - as they say), but for this format, I'll call them, Intuition, Wisdom, Feeling, and Myth.  (Some other time, perhaps I'll explain more about why I label them this way.  I'll say though that Myth, to me, is not "a lie" but instead, the story of Human kind, overarching humanness.)  Iyer talks about the knowing of one's self, the inner life as a human need and of course, despite the prevailing conventions, doing this inner work of self discovery is the foundational work to support all of our outer work and relationships.

So, this describes, for me, what the previous year was unfolding for me - a gradual shift into becoming a person who spends the majority of my time doing inner work.  Throughout the year, I felt great resistance from Superego when Intuition and Feeling were my primary focus.  Superego tried to distract me with chores and false obligations, but little by little, I noticed my own Wisdom, and she reminded me, in my own way, that Intuition and Feeling are really the Me that deserves to live as part of the great Myth.  Superego still pipes up with a shaming sensation as I lose track of time, allow myself to be completely absorbed in my art or music, or simply do not apply my creative skill sets toward a recognizable "career."  How sad, the shame that I (via Superego) feel or didn't want to feel was the unconscious motivator for my "success" and propulsion through professional realms.

Remembering Art made almost a decade ago when, however unconsciously, I decided my art-making is a vehicle for my stillness.  This painting, Breathing Room, was a real-time transcription of my breathing on a giant canvas.  I gave myself permission to do this work in stillness and solitude, and now too, I give myself permission - but consciously.

Without continuing down the long road of discussing SuperEgo, I'll bring this back to Pico Iyer's talk about the necessity of solitude and stillness as means toward attention (AKA awareness), and point out the big affirmation that I felt while listening:  I have permission - Intuition granted, Wisdom granted and Myth granted permission to be still as long as you need.  Up until 2015, I naturally possessed the Intuition, Feeling, Wisdom and Myth that I am now choosing to acknowledge and embody, but the hard-lined conventions of Superego steered against my right to know, legitimize and activate these players.  2015 was just the beginning of realizing true inner needs and the metamorphosis into a life of stillness that more thoroughly honors, reveals and empowers my essential being.  My creative survival and my art depend on this kind of stillness.

head in the (lavender) clouds

A few weeks ago, I said, "I desired my own creative spotlight on my own life's main stage." 

I'm realizing, via the duality (even more than two aspects) of the self, that I am the performer and the audience (and the critic).  I am the voice and the listener (and the editor).  I am the creator and the beloved (and the destructive).  From a jungian point of view, one of these aspects of self may grow to become stronger than the others.  For me, it has been the self that is critic, editor and destructive.  It has been a path of self disregard in my art-making and avoiding the embodiments of voice, ear, hand, heart, dance, and the body that feels the result of these embodiments.

Seven years ago, when I first arrived in Denver, I met a man who, after we had become friends, told me he has intuitive abilities.  Because he was exploring this ability as a second career, he asked if he could practice with me as the subject.  I gladly obliged.  I've always loved hearing about myself and thinking about myself!  He said many great and grave things about me as we sat facing each other with our eyes closed.  He didn't describe my history or my future and he didn't ask questions other than to ask if what he was saying sounded familiar to me.  He described visions that he could see in and around my body.  One of the most poignant that has stayed with me since then was his description of a misty, lavender cloud around my head that was creative energy.  He spoke of my brain holding a sharp and perfect diamond, a representation of my honed and perfected intellect.  He told me that the creative aura was meant to be embodied, but as long as the diamond continued to be my priority, that separation would remain between my body and the creative.

My head, my rationality, my intellect, my ego - the diamond - all of these things are so highly valued in the world, but perhaps these as foundation are flimsier than we understand and keep us from living a wholehearted existence.  I am fearful of letting any other aspect of myself guide me and direct my work because the intuitive, creative essence may be perceived as wild and chaotic.  The reality is, as long as I focus on the diamond, which needs no more perfecting, I forget the heart, the body, the soul, the spirit, the unknowing knower, the Intuitive that is me.  What may be perceived as wild and chaotic is, in fact, the creative self, the one who knows without knowing

Recently, I listened to an inspiring interview between Krista Tippett (interviewer of radio show/podcast On Being) and Artist - self titled, Maker, Ann Hamilton.  Ms Tippett said that it is "humanizing when we rediscover [needlepoint, knitting, hand-crafts, etc.]" in a discussion with Ann Hamilton about her work as a textile artist.  Ms. Hamilton talks about it as "embodied knowledge."  The making, the putting on of the hands and trusting one's intuition to make the thing that exists from somewhere inside you, this is a kind of knowing.  It is not revered in our society's traditions because it is not cerebral.  Unfortunately, we can get stuck in the process of art-making at that moment when we realize we are in the body and not in the head.  Ann Hamilton discusses this as the moment when we "give it away" because it is not understood, we couldn't complete the work, it was impossible to describe or prove.  

[W]hen you’re making something, you don’t know what it is for a really long time.  So, you have to kind of cultivate the space around you, where you can trust the thing that you can’t name. And, if you feel a little bit insecure, or somebody questions you, or you need to know what it is, then what happens is you give that thing that you’re trying to listen to away.   [S]o how do you kind of cultivate a space that allows you to dwell in that — not knowing, really[?]  That [which] is actually really smart.  And can become really articulate.  But, you know, like the thread has to come out, and it comes out at its own pace. 

[my edits]

In this interview (please listen!), I find that Krista Tippett and Ann Hamilton are describing the wild and the chaos that I fear, but they are describing it in much more humble and settled reality.  I have felt anxious about releasing into my creative power because I have worried that the power would hit me like a tidal wave!  In reality, I am already doing the work that is the wild and the chaos and it is as quiet as I need it to be so that I can breathe the wildness and relax into the realm of unknowing.  I am making quilts by which I immerse myself in color and repetition and process.  I am making cross-stitch images that offer me time for intense meditation and thinking.  

Regarding this realization about the wild as quiet and the chaos as freedom, this is what Tippet and Hamilton's discussion has left with me: 

• The work has to come at its own pace. 
• When the articulation hasn't yet come and it's too early to define the work, cultivate the space around it and protect the unknowing.
• Dwell in the not-knowing and resist giving it away before you come to know how to articulate. 
• Believe that your embodied knowledge (the knowledge of the senses and of the soul) has authority.
• The wilderness is medicine, chaos offers freedom, and neither were ever in effect to harm.