What in your life is calling you?
When all the noise is silenced,
the meetings adjourned,
the lists laid aside,
and the wild iris blooms by itself
in the dark forest,
what still pulls on your soul?
In the silence between your heartbeats
hides a summons.
Do you hear it?
Name it, if you must,
or leave it forever nameless,
but why pretend it is not there?
“We can never have enough of nature. We must be refreshed by the sight of inexhaustible vigor, vast and titanic features, the sea-coast with its wrecks, the wilderness with its living and its decaying trees, the thunder-cloud, and the rain.”
I found it very hard to get on with drawing # 12. I was conflicted about what to draw. My mind kept going to the back yard of an old log home in the neighborhood; its empty space seemed full of some kind of intriguing energy. On the other hand, the crab apple tree in our back yard was in full, glorious bloom.Thousands of perfect blossoms of five petals each were at their peak of perfection.
One day, with the tension of indecision mounting within me, I sat down in my chair in the craft room to think about what to do. Then I noticed the white five-petaled silk flower I had picked up when I visited my grandmother’s grave years ago; it had seemed at the time to be a small token from her. That was just the sign I needed. I finally went to our garage, took the step ladder from the garage wall, placed it on the deck, climbed to its top “seat,” and drew the crab apple blossom cluster closest to my face.
It was a challenging drawing to do, especially as I began to address the problem of drawing the tree to which the blossoms in front of my nose were attached. I had no idea how the drawing would play out. I caught myself grinding my teeth on and off, between balancing myself on my perch and bringing some of the particulars of my chosen vantage point out of the tip of the pen.
Before I began I had the thought that I should become one with whatever I was drawing. I do see that what resulted is a reflection of this attempt. The picture is as much about me and my struggles as it is about the tree itself. I am, in the end, pleased with what was a difficult assignment. I feel it is an honest drawing and reflects the process of getting to know this particular tree while putting marks on the paper that come from my own perception rather than some learned technique. I guess that’s the advantage of not being schooled (or disadvantage, depending on one’s outlook).
What about entering the void? I guess what I learned is that to enter the void I need to take on the challenge of really trying to see what is in front of me and allowing the pen to do as honest a job as possible.
Reflecting on the satisfaction I feel, I recall how before I began this drawing series I took note of my predilection to be intrigued by the relationship of an element in the foreground of a painting or photo to the background “landscape” of which it is a part. The viewing process leads me into a kind of narrative journey of attention where I at first notice the foreground object or person and then am delighted that more details are in the background, details which lend further information regarding what at first catches the eye. These background details also lead me to ask more questions about the complex web of relationship between foreground and background. The viewing becomes a kind of unfolding story from which the element of mystery is never erased. Therefore, I can return again and again to the same piece of work without ever getting bored.
There is something precious about knowing how briefly these glorious blossoms grace the tree. The time of their reign is short, making their delicate, white profusion even more breathtaking.
If you were awake, you would understand that you were the whole universe, pretending, projecting itself at a point called here and now, in the form of the human organism. And you would understand that very clearly, not just as an idea, but as an actual vivid sensation, just the same way you know you’re sitting in this room.
I almost forgot what it means to enter the void with the eyes open. It is so easy to let down one’s guard, to go to sleep. This morning’s meditation on nature brought me back to the breath observation practice with eyes open that has held me in good stead for quite a while now. I was able to look, listen, and sense with my eyes open, to be present for myself and the quiet drama of the early morning. I came back to a sense of inner contentment and peace.
Come, come, whoever you are. Wanderer, worshipper, lover of leaving. It doesn’t matter. Ours is not a caravan of despair. come, even if you have broken your vows a thousand times. Come, yet again , come , come.
― Rumi
Return to the Lip of the Gorge (Highlands of the Big South Fork, TN)
Here’s my sense of this artistic journey: I have a flashlight beam cast on the ground just a step ahead of me. Each step renders a new discovery to be savoured. The epiphany of this drawing is the understanding that the drawing doesn’t have to fit the mould of what a drawing “should” be. I already know how drawings “should” be and I have it programmed in me to attempt to produce a certain composition.
This drawing doesn’t fit the mould of a “pretty” piece. It also doesn’t follow the guidelines of “process art”– which are inspiring but not completely what I am meant to do. It reflects accurately my process of coming to a relationship with this place which has fascinated me for years– a precipice semi-hidden by vegetation– and at a very particular time of year.
The dark area at the top are the trees way far away on the other side of the gorge. The lighter areas on either side are the scrim of vegetation that masks the chasm. This is indeed the character of this entire geological province (Cumberland Plateau)– a sandstone plateau veined with deep gorges that are most often invisible to the eye until you are at the edge. The sad fact is that people have stepped off the edges of these gorges unawares (usually with the help of intoxicants and at night).
The world’s longest hardwood forested plateau is home to many plants and animals found nowhere else.
I am so happy to be able to share this information about place. There are also some insights about the SEASON to be had. While the sun is evident on the sandstone, its presence is less felt than in the drawings done in spring. Rudolph Steiner has lectured on the distancing of the sun from the earth and the stretching outward of the soul of the earth during the summer. I don’t fully understand it but find it fascinating. I will write more about this in a subsequent post.
I have been seeing Merton’s quotes come up before me for some time now, through Facebook links. The more I discover about him, the more I feel a kindred spirit and a resonance with and affirmation of the path I am on, the path of union with, as some Native Americans would say, “All My Relations.”
“In one of his journals he recorded a moment of mystical insight that marked a critical turning point in his life as a monk. It occurred during an errand in Louisville, ‘at the corner of Fourth and Walnut, in the centre of the shopping district.’
I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realisation that I loved all those people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It was the waking from a dream of separateness, of spurious self-isolation in a special world, the world of renunciation and supposed holiness.
Merton suddenly experienced a sense of solidarity with the human race – not simply in sin, but in grace. There is no way of telling people that they are all walking about, shining like the sun…There are no strangers!…The gate of heaven is everywhere.
The Christian life, and especially the contemplative life is a continual discovery of Christ in new and unexpected places.
It is necessary for me to see the first point of light which begins to be dawn. It is necessary to be present alone at the resurrection of the Day, in the solemn silence at which the sun appears.
— Thomas Merton
Sunrise Over Notre Dame de Paris (June 2009)
After I chose this photo to go with the quote, I found out that Thomas Merton was born in Paris!
