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We interrupt our regular broadcast...

In the past weeks as we’ve been hearing more and more about COVID-19 (how do they come up with those names) I’ve been pondering the paradox of connection this pandemic contains. 

As a long-time meditation practitioner and as someone who has lived through some internal challenges, I've learned that within the pod of crisis always lies the seed of transformation. The fertile ground for this seed is acceptance of what is. Acceptance is not approving or liking, but acknowledging things as they are.

You plant the seeds of what is given in the soil of acceptance to see what blossoms. You may end up with an entirely different garden than what you had before. One that requires different tools to tend it. But it is no less beautiful. Personally, this has happened in my life through the endings of intimate relationships. I now, and have for some time, lived in the garden of aloneness. What has blossomed in this garden among in addition to developing my visual artist skills is writing more—starting several years ago with my black and white Friday blog that I wrote every Friday for two years, which has now morphed into these musings, and my teaching/coaching ventures. I feel such aliveness and connection with students and clients. It is a deeply gratifying relationship. I know in my soul had my previous life continued as it did these shifts would not have taken place. Maybe some day I’ll be back in the garden of a different relationship but I’ve really learned to appreciate this one. Life has a way of interrupting our regularly scheduled programming.

In these interrupted moments, I often say that I find that poets, not pundits offer the wisdom I want to be guided by. I’m including two poems.

I came across the first by Pablo Neruda almost 20 years ago. It has been a companion ever since like a wise teacher.

Keeping Quiet by Pablo Neruda

Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still
for once on the face of the earth,
let’s not speak in any language;
let’s stop for a second,
and not move our arms so much.

It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.

Fishermen in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would not look at his hurt hands.

Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.

What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about;
I want no truck with death.

If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.
Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.


Now I’ll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.

 


 
The second by Lynn Unger I encountered only this morning. It also clearly gives a voice to the opportunity that we are pregnant with in this moment.


Pandemic by Lynn Unger

What if you thought of it
as the Jews consider the Sabbath—
the most sacred of times?
Cease from travel.
Cease from buying and selling.
Give up, just for now, 
on trying to make the world
different than it is. 
Sing. Pray. Touch only those
to whom you commit your life.
Center down.
 
And when your body has become still,
reach out with your heart.
Know that we are connected
in ways that are terrifying and beautiful.
(You could hardly deny it now.)
Know that our lives
are in one another’s hands.
(Surely, that has come clear.)
Do not reach out your hands.
Reach out your heart.
Reach out your words.
Reach out all the tendrils
of compassion that move, invisibly,
where we cannot touch.
 
Promise this world your love–
for better or for worse,
in sickness and in health,
so long as we all shall live.
 



On a less philosophical note, and seemingly small in relationship to the poems above, I leave you with some prompts for doing. Some people are better suited to find their peace in keeping their hands moving:
  1. Take an object/person/animal in your house/yard and make it your creative muse for the next two weeks.
  2. Work in a completely different color palette than you usually work in. 
  3. Work in one color
  4. Use a different size brush 
  5. Organize your tubes of paint, colored pencils and other color media by color.
  6. Create your own alphabet
  7. Explore different drawing mediums - use what you have, but have ignored or avoided in your existing supplies
  8. Take something you know that challenges you in terms of skill and devote two weeks to growth. For me, that is drawing ellipses (circles that are foreshortened) I will report back to you on that.
  9. Develop a skill you don’t currently have, or know very little about but want to turn into a skill set. For me, I’m working on photographic portraiture with creative lighting. For now, I have to use a mannequin head, and also objects around my house. The principals are the same.
  10. Dust off the guitar in the corner, or the keyboard. 
  11. Make yourself accountable to your growth by emailing me what you are taking on. Report back to me.
  12. Write a poem or a short story about your seclusion. 
  13. Study an artist or period of art, this is a great link to open doorways of possibility
  14. Have you had an invention mulling around in the back of your mind? Start exploring how to bring it into fruition. 

"The messenger" - Kathryn Van Aernum

That ends our special broadcast.

Creatively Yours,
Kathryn

Copyright © 2020 Fine Art Photography | Kathryn Van Aernum, All rights reserved.


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