Meditative Drawing

I

have never been one to slow down easily. I am more of a squirrel than a turtle. But one doorway into slowing down for me has been meditative drawing. Taking time to VERY slowly draw one simple thing. For me, drawing twigs or small branches has been such a rewarding experience. First I find a twig with some little interesting bumps or cracks or twists. Then I sit with the twig -- holding it, looking at it, making up a story about it. I sketch the basic line of the twig on the paper (to make sure it fits!). Then I begin at one end and very slowly progress up the branch - noting and drawing every single little bump, crack, split... Taking time as I go to notice if I am gripping the pencil too tightly, if I am continuing to breathe, if I am enjoying what I am doing. My art teacher says that drawing is a way of "eating time". You get lost and time feeds you in some way. It truly becomes more about the process than the product. I have thought it might be fun to fill a whole small sketchbook with twigs.

I wish you the stretching out of time that meditative drawing can offer.

TWIG

The drawing teacher gives us each one twig, says “You have the next two hours

to draw this twig.”

WHAT???

I can draw this twig in 30 seconds. I can draw

100 twigs in two hours.

Patience, slowness, being careful have never been my watchwords.

I am a skate-across-the-surface kind of gal.

I am not running away from anything or trying to win a race.

At 76 I am simply eager

to have it all, to have more, to taste more pies, to hear more songs, to write more words.

Still, I see the odd truth of the way slowing down gives one a different sort of more.

Meditative Drawing

I have never been one to slow down easily. I am more of a squirrel than a turtle. But one doorway into slowing down for me has been meditative drawing. Taking time to VERY slowly draw one simple thing. For me, drawing twigs or small branches has been such a rewarding experience. First I find a twig with some little interesting bumps or cracks or twists. Then I sit with the twig -- holding it, looking at it, making up a story about it. I sketch the basic line of the twig on the paper (to make sure it fits!). Then I begin at one end and very slowly progress up the branch - noting and drawing every single little bump, crack, split... Taking time as I go to notice if I am gripping the pencil too tightly, if I am continuing to breathe, if I am enjoying what I am doing. My art teacher says that drawing is a way of "eating time". You get lost and time feeds you in some way. It truly becomes more about the process than the product. I have thought it might be fun to fill a whole small sketchbook with twigs.

I wish you the stretching out of time that meditative drawing can offer.

TWIG

The drawing teacher gives us each one twig, says “You have the next two hours

to draw this twig.”

WHAT???

I can draw this twig in 30 seconds. I can draw

100 twigs in two hours.

Patience, slowness, being careful have never been my watchwords.

I am a skate-across-the-surface kind of gal.

I am not running away from anything or trying to win a race.

At 76 I am simply eager

to have it all, to have more, to taste more pies, to hear more songs, to write more words.

Still, I see the odd truth of the way slowing down gives one a different sort of more.

Stories of Tears

I am a crier myself – meaning that I often find myself in tears in situations where others don’t. Odd things can bring me to tears – hearing people sing happy birthday, seeing kids in line to see Santa Claus. But, like others, I also cry at sad movies, at sappy Hallmark ads, beautiful sunsets over oceans, at weddings and over the lyrics of songs. When I saw a book at the used bookstore entitled. THE CRYING BOOK, I knew I had to have it. It is a collection of short vignettes about why we cry, where we cry, what tears are etc.

At two recent retreats the issue of tears came up. In the first one we began the retreat by going around the circle saying why we were there. One woman began speaking and then began to cry saying she didn’t know why she was crying. The retreat leader so kindly said that when we cry, we have taken off all our armor. It happens when we are safe. As he talked to the group about tears, he himself became tearful. Which opened up the armor we all were carrying but didn’t know it.

At another retreat when the subject of tears arose as we were singing, the leader said. “oh yes, tears are saltwater salutes to whatever is happening.”

There are beautiful small tear bottles that date back to ancient times – called “lachrymatory” – small glass vessels made to hold tears. They are often held in filigree of silver. I want to have a stash of those that I could give to my friends where they cry. You can apparently see them in Egyptian museums.

A Jungian analyst friend of mine told of a time when a woman was telling a story in therapy and her tears collected on her sweater. When she looked down, they had turned into diamonds. May that be so for all of us!!

Many blessings on your tears. May they be treasured, known as doorways into what is most important. And may you often find yourself in settings in which they are welcomed.

“When you were born, you cried

And the world rejoiced.

Live your life so that when you die,

The world cries and you rejoice.”

~Kabir