Sunday Review: Photographer fingers and artist's aprons

Puerto Escondido Sunset

It has happened before, but it’s always a surprise.

This morning I woke up feeling like I was in a new world, as if something had shifted during the long night’s sleep. This time, it relates to my confidence in my life as an artist. It took many years, but I’ve grown comfortable introducing myself as a digital artist. I’m not sure how a night’s sleep changed things, but this morning I feel the need to drop the “digital” and merely state that I am an artist.

I am an artist working primarily in a digital medium, living an artist’s life, and being so very grateful to be doing so. Period. No apologies, no caveats, just acceptance that this is the path I’ve chosen. In my 72 years, I’ve experienced a wide range of art. Some took my breath away, some made me shake my head, and some made no impression whatsoever.

I want to make an impression, pull images out of my interaction with the world and give them life. I’m grateful that I’m not constrained by the world of art galleries, critics, judged art shows, or the opinions of friends and strangers. The Universe has been generous in granting me a life free of financial need for sales. I get to make art and let it flow freely into the world as part of my own exploration process.

What is art?

We noodle and quibble about the definition of art. For me though, it seems suddenly clear. Being an artist is not about fame, fortune or even identity. It’s a path of observing and interacting with the world, finding ways to synthesize the truths which emerge from that interaction, whether it be through image, word, sound, dance, story, supporting the growth of children, nurturing plants and animals, or feeding our bodies, minds and spirits. There are a thousand variations of artists' paths.

Regardless of the medium, an artist’s path is a quest for truth and the expression of it. Saying I am an artist is more of a statement about my commitment to the future than my accomplishments of the past.

So, how does this apply to photographer fingers and artist’s aprons?

This whole line of thinking was stimulated by the picture I took of a young woman taking a picture of a sunset with her camera phone. I’ll never see her face or the picture she took. I have no idea of what her intent was in taking that photo or the quality of that photo. Is she an artist? Perhaps she is, or maybe she was just taking a picture to put on Facebook. However, in that moment of observing a beautiful sunset and capturing it in pixels, she was making an artistic action. It will be her choice as to whether or not she continues on the artist’s path.

MY artist apron

And, the apron? One of the things I wanted when I came down here was one of the wonderful, embroidered aprons I’ve seen … not to cook in, of course! I wanted one as an artist’s apron. Once I bought it though, I thought, “This is ridiculous … it’s not like I’m painting and need to wear an apron.” 

That line of self-talk was very close to … I’m not a real artist, one who can draw and use paint brushes.

This morning’s eureka moment washed away that self-talk and said: wear the apron, claim your life as an artist.

 

And, so I do! 

Zica Sketches: when plans change

Zicatela Point

I had a specific agenda and intention when I booked my trip to Puerto Escondido on the Pacific coast of the state of Oaxaca. An entre- preneurial worm had crawled into my brain, spewing a flood of possibility bubbles, all bright and shiny. 

By the time my friend Bette Brazel and I arrived, reality had popped the bigger bubbles, but there was still a fizz of “what ifs” ebbing and flowing like the tide. The first morning, we woke in our off-kilter airbnb with plans to follow, taxis to call, places to go: breakfast followed by the Dreamweavers weaving expo which was the prime reason for coming to this rather hard-to-get-to piece of beach, and a major factor in my entrepreneurial scheme.

Gazing from our top-of-the-hill balcony at the long Pacific view, I began to strap on my serious, follow-the-plan regalia. Perhaps, if I had turned my head just a little, I might have heard the soft sound of chuckling drifting up the canyon. However, I wasn’t listening, so I didn’t even hear the barked guffaw nor the sound of a thousand plan-dominos collapsing. 

Bette getting the boot

What I did hear was a sharp cry. Bette tripped and didn’t get up. Obviously, injured and in pain, our airbnb host whisked us to a local clinic where Dr. Emma marshaled the local forces of healing. A few hours later, (and amazingly few pesos) Bette hobbled out and we proceeded to the Santa Fe Hotel on Zicatela Beach, the location of the weaving expo, now approaching its closing time.

Having missed breakfast and lunch, however, food came first. Eating on the hotel's ocean front balcony, watching the waves coming and going from the blue Pacific, contemplating the machinations of the Universe, suddenly the definition of perfection flipped like a light switch and the entrepreneurial fizz flat-lined. I forced myself to make an appearance at the weaving conference, but in spite of all the incredible work and glorious color, nothing called to me.

Well, actually, something was calling to me … the beach and the

View from Santa Fe Hotel restaurant

lovely hotel we were in, which, in addition to all its charm and proximity to the beach and walking, offered a minimum of stairs, something Bette needed for the next several days. The airbnb we had rented was a hodgepodge of stairs and was way too far away from everything for us to be comfortable. What we needed was a ground floor room with two beds, close to the pool. I asked and the answer was “yes.” Within a couple of hours we were moved into the little bit of paradise that cuddled us like footy-pajamas for the next several days.

Me and my shadow, contemplating life.

Now we’re on our last day here; Bette’s healing rapidly, and the entrepreneurial whirring of my brain has been replaced by a slow-molasses quiet and a lot of art. The Universe always seems to get these things right. 

 

In our forced inactivity, Bette has discovered Shonda Rimes's A Year of Saying Yes, and I have taken to spending long periods of time in one of the few early morning coffee shops in Mexico, which happens to be just down the beach walk from our hotel.

 

El Cafecito is one of those boundary places, where locals, tourists, expats, anyone called by early morning, and a need for caffeine, comes to get their fix. This is the first of a series of "Zica sketches" born in those early mornings.

 

 

Sunday Review: Waking Microdreams?

A waking microdream?

Week 3, 2018 - A glorious week in Oaxaca, savoring the city and renewing friendships at Art House Oaxaca. (Much more about the experiences of Oaxaca at Mexican Art Villages).

After finishing a week in this magical colonial city filled with arts and crafts, and in keeping with my intention to Slow Down: simplify, savor and synthesize, it is time to contemplate what I learned.

Out of the more than 500 photos from this week, I chose one as my point of departure. Not an easy task as it was not the most beautiful, nor the most iconic, nor even the best. It was simply one that speaks to me, and asks the question … what is truth and what is shadow? Is shadow real? Does it hold a power of its own? This hotel marker is a strong graphic, however, the afternoon sun turned it into a more dramatic tale.

Emily Dickinson, once said, “Tell all the truth but tell it slant.” The shadow in this picture is truth told slant. So, what does that mean?

In browsing Google for other thoughts, I came across Camile T. Dungy’s story about a writing class where, after reading the Dickinson poem, a student showed her a new tattoo that read: “The truth must dazzle gradually.” When we see the “H,” it is truth told straight, head on. We know there’s a hotel here. But, if there is something to be revealed by the shadow H, it has to gradually reveal itself. Perhaps, it’s really nothing but a play of light … or is it something more? ... a unique view? ... an unguessed connection?

We can walk past the image, labeling it a shadow, dismissing it as a mere creation of the angle of light, or we can wonder at the fleeting perception, explore the connection to some meaning or riddle of the Universe that flashed this momentary signal into our consciousness. 

Oaxaca Bubble

Maybe these perceptions are as insubstantial as soap bubbles in the sun. However, what if they’re like a microdream that deserves to be listened to, understood. valued? The idea of microdreams sends me off to Google and, of course, there’s recent research on microdreams cited in an article from Psychology Today.

The article contends that dreams are constructions of memories, past and present. Capturing microdreams of one-second or less that occur as you are falling asleep, narrows the range of memory sources and simplifies the process of understanding the dream snippet.

But, what if our perceptions are dream cousins? When we open our eyes, a million images flood into our brain. Somehow, our attention picks and chooses what gets through the filter … we notice the car coming toward us but not the lawn of dandelions, the color of palm fronds against a blue sky but not the missing branch of the seventh frond up.

While walking down the colonial streets of central Oaxaca, I was struck by the image of the H and its shadow. With all the other perceptions flooding my brain, why did I choose to take a picture of that image? Is it a waking dream snippet that instantly connected to some memory source?

The name I grew up with but haven’t used for almost fifty years was Harris. Is this a picture of my life … the original path and the actual journey, still recognizable but obviously different? Who can truly say, but I plan to spend more time with those images that I don't know why I took them.

 

This would be my favorite photo of the week.

 

Doing what I thought I'd do at 20 ... or had no idea I'd do at all.

Oaxaca blossoms in many ways.

My life is a surprise in so many ways.

At 20, I thought I’d be a world traveler. I had already been accepted into the Peace Corps for Afghanistan. Adventure awaited ... until my own cold feet and a guy with warm hands changed the trajectory of my life.

However, on this blue-sky morning that turns all your cells into cheer leaders, I’m walking through a remarkable, old city with thick-stone-walled churches, wide walking streets, and art, old and new, everywhere. Sophisticated tourists mingle with village vendors in their colorful, traditional clothing. Coffee shops open slowly around 8:30 and chocolate shops and pastries are everywhere.

Lisa Sonora and I

Every morning, craft vendors recreate their tiendas to display their wares. They don’t just go to work, they live their work, and carry it with them for another day of sales in the shadow of the cathedral. I walk the streets, once again giving thanks for having a relatively easy and safe life. And, for living long enough to enjoy so much of the world’s feast.

I love creative signs.

I’m staying at Art House Oaxaca, owned by Lisa Sonora, a friend from the US and one of my creative muses. Her extremely well-located art retreat center has five private studios and a well-stocked-with-art-supplies outdoor studio. Yesterday as I was on my way back to Art House from wandering the city, I stopped in five art galleries within blocks of “home.” I love being able to see local contemporary art as well as all the traditional folk art in the shops and streets. I was so inspired, the evening was spent on a new art piece (see my new blog Mexican Art Villages.)

All of this abundance makes me wrap gratitude around myself as if it were the finest, hand-woven rebozo. Yes, it took me fifty years to get here … but I’m here. I’m healthy, energetic, financially sound and delighted to be exploring the world. The young girl who grew up in a small, southeastern Kansas town never, ever imagined the life that has, step-by-step, brought me here.

Sometimes, remembering that time so long ago when I had no way of imagining what lay before me, I wonder if I’m still as unaware of the future as I was then. Two years ago I thought I was living in my forever place. A year ago, I was just starting to think of Mexico as a part-time experience. Today, I’m living in Ajijic on the beautiful Lake Chapala and spending three weeks exploring Oaxaca, the city and the state.

Where will I be next year? Who knows? I might not even be earth-bound this time next year, but I do know that on this particular day, sitting in a small café in the amazing city of Oaxaca, I am happy, grateful and delighted to be alive.

PS ... to keep up with my travels, please see my blog: Mexico Stories.

2018 Intention: A Year of Wonder and Celebration

In 2009, I was introduced to an Irish philosopher whose words and thoughts shook my foundation. I fell in love immediately and wanted to go spend time listening to and learning from him, only to be devastated when I learned that John O’Donohue had died only a year earlier. However, he left behind him incredible words in books like Anam Cara (soul friend) and Beauty: the Invisible Embrace which continue to inspire and enlighten us.

One of my favorite thoughts from this incredible teacher is:

" ... the human heart is never completely born.  It is being birthed in every experience of your life.  Everything that happens to you has the potential to deepen you."

-- John O'Donohue, Anam Cara, p 26

Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel

Now, as I contemplate 2018, I’ve been introduced to another spiritual philosopher whom I can only meet through his words. Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, author of Man Is Not Alone, God in Search of Man, The Sabbath, and The Prophets, died in 1972, but left behind a huge legacy of thought and inspiration. 

My introduction to him came in a Facebook post from a friend which included the thought of “radical amazement.” Herschel said:

"Our goal should be to live life in radical amazement. ....get up in the morning and look at the world in a way that takes nothing for granted. Everything is phenomenal; everything is incredible; never treat life casually. To be spiritual is to be amazed. Never once in my life did I ask God for success or wisdom or power or fame. I asked for wonder, and he gave it to me.”

Rabbi Heschel and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

 That thought shook me and I went off to Googleland to find out more about this man and his thoughts and found that he was a Polish-born American rabbi and one of the leading Jewish theologians and Jewish philosophers of the 20th century. He was also an active participant in the Civil Rights movement. Here are a few more of his thoughts:

“Wonder rather than doubt is the root of all knowledge.”

“The beginning of our happiness lies in the understanding that life without wonder is not worth living.”

“People of our time are losing the power of celebration. Instead of celebrating we seek to be amused or entertained. Celebration is an active state, an act of expressing reverence or appreciation. To be entertained is a passive state. Celebration is a confrontation, giving attention to the transcendent meaning of one's actions.”

“The primary purpose of prayer is not to make requests. The primary purpose is to praise, to sing, to chant. Because the essence of prayer is a song, and man cannot live without a song."

Normally, I only choose one word for the year to come, however, as I move deeper into this final stage of life, I feel completely free to choose two and have chosen wonder and celebration. My goal for 2018 will be to walk in wonder and sing a song of celebration for all the great gifts I’ve been given and for everything that comes my way. 

And, one final thought from Rabbi Heschel:

"The meaning of life is to live life as if it were a work of art.”

 The photo of the child at the beginning of this post was taken during a sunny afternoon musical festival in the park in Nevada City, CA. Her expression haunted me and finally, with the help of a rainy morning oil slick rainbow, turned into this piece of art: Child of Wonder.

Child of Wonder

Rumi brings me coal and a hidden gift in my stocking

Rumi Card Deck Book

On this bright Christmas morning, my Rumi deck caught my eye and I decided to seek its advice. Sometime around 2000, I purchased Rumi: The Card and Book Pack, Meditation, Inspiration, & Self-Discovery and started to use it to connect to my inner consciousness.

THE COAL: Over the years, I’ve called on the wisdom of this deck often, and almost always in times of crisis. It doesn’t always give me the answer I want … such as this morning’s “warning” card received when I asked for an answer about the trip to Oaxaca I’m planning. It’s a simple trip and my biggest question is whether to go for 2 or 3 weeks.

I was shocked by the card I received, to the point of wanting to put it back and draw another card. But, that’s not quite the point, huh? Here’s the card which works in conjunction with the book which gives the rest of the message.

Warning Card

 

Warning Card: The Carnal soul’s food is seeds of evil; Sow them and they grow and grow irresistibly.

Book addition: You are in danger of making very bad choices which will damage your life.

That’s pretty harsh for what seems like a simple decision. Perhaps, there are other things going on in my life that it is warning me about? As my thinking branched out to other decisions that are calling to me, one possibility came into focus as one that might contain hazards.

Warning cards are included in the Rumi deck, according to the author, in order to:

 

“make us all as alert as possible to the shifting currents of Fate and to the hidden motivations of others, which, if we do not attend to them, can destroy us.

“No warning is final. Fate always gives us hints before it strikes. If we learn the Art of Attention, then we do the best we can for ourselves to secure our growth.”

The author quotes Rumi on attention:

Attend to the warnings that will come,

Do not expose what you are and have to destruction,

Remember how frail you are,

Who are less than a straw.

It reminds me of a time, years ago, when my husband and I semi-retired and had to pick up our own COBRA medical insurance (to the tune of about $2,000 per month). We thought we would just put that money in the bank and self-insure since we were both healthy and our income had plummeted drastically when Richard’s company closed.

We consulted Rumi and the card was a loud and forceful “No!” Therefore, we kept paying our insurance premiums, and several months later, Richard was diagnosed with prostate cancer and the medical bills over the three years prior to his death were around $500,000!

THE GIFT: So, in addition to thinking about all the decisions in my life right now, I decided to write this blog post, and, in that writing, I wondered how long I have been using this deck. I went to the copyright page and discovered that the author, Eryk Hanut, is one of my Facebook friends! I don’t know how or when we connected on Facebook but I’ve often admired his posts and it felt like a gift of connection, and a reinforcing of the need to rethink the decisions currently in process. 

 

So, thank you Eryk for the gift of ancient wisdom and thank you Rumi for the gift, and the coal that comes with greater attention to the outer and inner wisdom!

Other posts about Rumi:

In 2011, I launched a month-long celebration of Rumi poetry as read by Coleman Barks. If you haven’t heard Barks reading Rumi, I highly recommend dipping into the Rumi page above.

• Rumi: What Was Said to the Rose -- since 2009, this is the all-time most viewed post of this blog.

Review: The Forty Rules of Love: A Novel of Rumi by Elif Shafak

Mary Oliver and Coleman Barks

Joy 39/82: Rumi

Developing Generosity Intelligence

Sunset Egret on Lake Chapala by Joyce Wycoff

Here in the part of Mexico where I live, two cultures rub shoulders with each other, creating sometimes friction and sometimes greater awareness. A story came across Facebook about a family who had moved here and had been helped and befriended by their Mexican neighbors. It was the holiday season and the woman who was new to Mexico wanted to give her new friends a gift to repay all their kindnesses but was unsure what would be appropriate so she asked a Facebook forum for advice.

Accordingly, she received a lot of suggestions, many conflicting with each other. Some said money while others suggested that might be condescending, inappropriate, and also revealed an assumption that all Mexicans are poor. Some said cake or cookies, to which others responded with concerns about health and dietary restrictions. Some said clothes or holiday food items such hams and those, too, received mixed responses. 

Life insists on growing.

Only one responder suggested trying to figure out what the family might need, a suggestion which triggered my own thoughts about generosity. Is it more about what we have that we can share … or more about what the other person needs? I’m reminded of John Surowiecki’s intriguing comment, "Of the various kinds of intelligence, generosity is the first.”

Perhaps knowing how to be generous is an intelligence we can develop. Learning what someone else needs or would appreciate takes time and love enough to care about their lives and their concerns. Generosity isn’t about balancing the scorecard … she was really kind to me so I want to give her something. Eat, Pray, Love author Elizabeth Gilbert states that we can never actually repay kindness, we can only continue, forever and sincerely, to say thank you.

It reminds me of one dark night when I experienced such kindness that I desperately wanted to repay it. I was hopelessly lost In San Cristóbal de las Casas with a frustrated, Spanish-only-speaking taxi driver who was about to bolt at any moment. No one could have been more surprised than I when, out of the darkness, came a woman dressed totally in white: long white tunic sashed with a white braided belt, wearing a white turban. She approached us and, in perfect English, asked, “May I help you?” 

I don't know why.

Her name was Blanca and, that night at least, she was an angel who went out of her way to guide me to my destination. When I found out she lived in the neighborhood, I invited her to lunch. I wanted to somehow repay her, but I’m sure it wasn’t the price of the meal that she appreciated as much as it was the time we spent together, sharing our life stories, getting to know each other. She, too, was new to the area and we both needed a friend. I continue to this day to say "thank you" for her kindness. I wound up spending almost four months in San Cristóbal and her generous kindness seemed to be a glow that lit the entire trip.

As for the woman who started this train of thought, I didn’t respond to the Facebook thread at the time because I didn’t have any bright ideas about what would be appropriate and valued. If I could respond now, however, I think it would be one word: time. Most of us newbies here in Mexico truly value the time we spend with local people who share their lives and culture with us. Perhaps we forget that sharing our own time and friendship could be a gift to them, also. 

Spending time with someone may be the one thing they truly want. As Kahlil Gibran says, “You give but little when you give of your possessions. It is when you give of yourself that you truly give.”

A friend of mine recently found a small bag of dog treats tied up with a bow in her mailbox. It was from a neighbor she had never met and accompanying it was a note that stated: “Just wanted to say hello and send a little treat for your best friend that I see in the window — he/she makes my day when I drive by.  Happy New Year! All the best in your move.” An inexpensive gift wrapped in loving kindness and showing great generosity intelligence about the recipient.

Generosity intelligence seems to be a key-and-lock kind of thing where what can be given finds an opening that results in both hearts being opened a little wider. Sometimes the greatest need is money, as in the great natural catastrophes where homes and lives are lost. More often, where people’s basic needs are already met, generosity takes more creativity. What is that person hungry for, and what can you give that might feed her or his spirit?

Just because it's so beautiful.

More thoughts on Generosity:

“In the end, though, maybe we must all give up trying to pay back the people in this world who sustain our lives. In the end, maybe it's wiser to surrender before the miraculous scope of human generosity and to just keep saying thank you, forever and sincerely, for as long as we have voices.”

― Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love: One Woman's Search for Everything Across Italy, India and Indonesia

“Generosity is the most natural outward expression of an inner attitude of compassion and loving-kindness.”

― Dalai Lama XIV

True generosity is an offering; given freely and out of pure love. No strings attached. No expectations. Time and love are the most valuable possession you can share.

-- Suzy Orman

“Every sunrise is an invitation for us to arise and brighten someone's day.”

― Richelle E. Goodrich, Smile Anyway

“You can't live a perfect day without doing something for someone who will never be able to repay you.”

― Debbie Macomber, One Simple Act: Discovering the Power of Generosity