It's great to be blogging again. During my blogging hiatus, I have done many things: leading workshops and classes, presenting at conferences, working on my fairytale, and creating new artwork.One of my new pieces, Wu Li Teshuvah, was recently on display at the Dennis & Phillip Ratner Museum in Bethesda, Maryland, as part of the Women's Caucus for Art of Greater Washington"s group show "Women's Reflections: Visual Reflections from Washington Area Artists & "Katrina Diaries" from New Orleans Artists." It was wonderful to be part of such a dynamic show and to meet some fellow artists from New Orleans. Their lives and work are an inspiration. It was truly moving to hear their stories and observe their dignity and courage in the face of such destruction. It was a reminder to me that sometimes there's nothing you can do about the circumstances of your life. What you can do is be conscious of how you deal with life's "adventures."
Ironically, this is the message, for me, of the piece I did for this show. As you may know, my work is created with an intention in mind. In this piece, I was exploring a query I often muse about: "why does energy choose to constellate this way?" The first time I had this thought was a couple years ago while standing in line at the post office one hot summer day. It was a particularly long line that day, and when I looked around I saw spindly arms and legs, and lots and lots of packages piled high. There was something about the picture of it that struck me odd, and comical about the scene, with arms and legs sticking out all over, peoples faces covered by huge and many boxes, waiting endlessly for their chance at the counter. Since then, I have had many moments when I've had that same thought. I still don't have an answer, but I enjoy the musing.
Recently, I began to look at that question in relation to my own life. Why does my own life energy choose to constellate this way? Things don't always turned out the way I planned. Sometimes I find myself going down a completely different road than the one I thought I was heading down. It seems to have little to do with my intention. I do my best to live as consciously as possible, but sometimes life happens its own way. C'est la vie!
Recently, as I've once again come to a new level of understanding about this, I had a breakthrough moment. Even though I may think that I have made some wrong turns along the way or things are not as I think they should be, the reality is that in every moment, I am exactly where I need to be, doing exactly what I need to be doing. There really is something uniquely perfect of the universe. If I cannot experience that in any given moment, it is probably because I lack a certain or different perspective. I can only do the best I can, and trust the process for the rest.
As is often the case for me, the intention or issue I am exploring when I work on a piece of art ends up showing up in the process. Creating Wu Li Teshuvah was no exception. I first became aware of the term "wu li" from Gary Zukav's book, The Dancing Wu Li Masters.
"Wu Li" is a chinese term that has several meanings including organic patterns of energy. It was this definition that I had in mind when I thought about Hurricane Katrina and the power of that tempest. The radiating fibonacci spiral is reminiscent of the power of nature: wind, water, tornadoes, hurricanes. And it is reminiscent of how the government handled the whole situation: spinning its wheels; giving everyone the run-around.
"Wu Li" can also be interpreted as "my way," or "I clutch my ideas," or "nonsense." These were the definitions I had in mind when I was thinking about the seemingly wrong turns in my life. I have ideas of how my life "should" be, how others should act, how the world should be. I often hold fast to my judgments, even when I am aware that they are just my misguided judgements. It's not like I'm the only one who does this. It's more that while I can grant acceptance to others, I am acutely aware and personally judgemental of my own process.
The last meaning of "wu li" is enlightenment. I had this experience (as a little "a-ha" moment) as I was finishing the art. "Teshuvah" is a hebrew word that means "turning." Working on this piece once again reminded me of a lesson I have learned many times in my life: if I can turn just a little bit and look at things a from a new perspective, or take a step in a new direction, that makes all the difference.
I was up against a deadline to finish this piece. I was fretting and struggling. The energy was spinning. I couldn't figure out what the piece needed in order to be finished. The entire time, I worked on the piece in one specific direction. I spontaneously turned the piece around 180 degrees from the way I had been working on it. Everything that was previously a problem with the piece resolved itself. Suddenly, there was nothing wrong with the piece; no mistakes or unresolved issues. I could not see the perfection before because I was looking at it the wrong way. Once I turned the painting around, the energy turned, and I had a whole new perspective.
The lesson that came around again: In the grandest scheme of the universe, there are no mistakes, only misinterpretations. Everything is perfect and exactly as it needs to be!
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