Thursday, January 10, 2013

Confessions, Wrestling & Clean Drawers

Pixies reading "A Mythic Life" by Jean Houston

Confessing your sins to others is a compassionate act, don't you think? There is strange kindness in it. It's like an offering of sorts. I mean your confession is a comfort to other sinners, right? You let them know they're not alone in their transgressions.

Hold on a fundamentalist minute, in Buddhism we don't have sins or sinners, do we? But it's a cultural context that's hard to escape don't you find, words like sin or confession, they're tattooed onto some hidden part of us? But I wander-- circuitously. So hard to find your way back to the point when you do that. (Note to self - wander more or less in a straight line from now on.)

But here's where I'm going.  I've been having this feeling that I didn't want to talk about and then I see one brave soul and then another, out themselves. And I stand up in my kitchen, and shout, yes, that's it. that's what's happening to me too!

Nicholas Wilton said it here. And Kris Fretheim said it over here.  And I felt so much better when I read their posts, really, I did.  I felt part of the coven, part of the secret society.

Strange frost fibers in the forest

You see, what I've been doing since this new year reared it's cheeky little head,  is cleaning and tidying my house, tossing out mounds of paper, preparing bags of things for the thrift shops. I am getting down to another layer of ruthlessness in culling "stuff".  It's good in it's own way and I was inspired by a friend who was doing some year end tossing and cleaning. It feels satisfying and freeing to have clean drawers (foolish pun intended).  But after a while I can see the devil in this work. (Goodness those Christian images are certainly busy tonight). Must have something to do with a post Christian holiday haunting?

December was mostly spent in merry making and distractions and now I have forgotten what I used to do, who I used to be.  I have no one to blame but myself, the passage of time, habit, and perhaps my own human nature.  Nicholas Wilton aptly said something like: "I feel like a stranger in my own studio." But what I sense deep in my bones is an aversion to the discomfort of facing the empty canvas; an aversion of being with the squirmy, quivering unknown. So I putter and stall. It's a common artist's tactic. When it's time to create, suddenly there are a thousand mundane tasks that need doing.  And so I wrestle with the demon of cupboard cleaning.  And I am down for the count.  He has me in a figure four leg lock, counting and sorting bits and useless pieces. And the problem is something in me knows.  Something in me cannot be fooled by all this cheery, task oriented busyness.  Something in me knows there is a great chasm between what I am doing and what I need to be doing and therein lies the angst. The truth is never far from us if we are willing to look.

But this I have learned.  It's all okay.  The stalling; it's okay for a while.  Actually it's kind of amusing and touching in a way. It's part of the game by now. And how could I ever get all this cleaning done, if I didn't have something more  important I was supposed to be doing?  How would I ever have a spotless pantry if some tender, vulnerable part of me wasn't deathly afraid of being shown up as a failure?

Buddha's Back In Town


And slowly the movie will play itself out.  Soon I will follow some inner longing down the windy stairs to the studio.  I will  poke about when I get there, maybe have a little tantrum, mess about with some things, wipe a little paint on and off a canvas, maybe fix up an old piece that is calling 911 for help.  I might tell myself I'm not really supposed to be doing this and who am I kidding anyway. And then quite by accident, when I 'm not looking I will fall into a place where things just happen, where I disappear.  And my deepest fears will be dissolved like chalk dust in a drop of wine. I will come to see that I am not as talentless and hopeless as I feared. I mean that's what it was really all about anyway, wasn't it?  Avoidance and distraction is always about that faithlessness that sneaks up on us when we're not looking.

And it's all just fine: what I'm doing now, what I'm going to do and whatever comes in between and after that. I have tidied up the drawer where the nasty words live and  I have placed my sharp tongue back in it's protective sleeve and put them both in a box marked "thrift store".  So be careful when you go shopping. You might get more than you bargained for.


25 comments:

  1. I said to my husband, "See? You're never alone. Your thoughts and feelings are with millions of beings everywhere." It's comforting to me. Your post is such a delightful mirror! Except at my house, the bags awaiting donations are still strewn across the floor among the dust balls.

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    1. It's a strange human phenomenon, isn't it? So often we imagine we are the only one going through whatever it happens to be, at the moment. Perhaps if we hear it enough times we will know as you say "we are never alone" and it seems this is enough to be uplifting.

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  2. Every January I mope and whinge about not being able to work, but this time around I'm happy to say that I'm not a member of the art avoidance/ holiday lethargy club. I AM working! However I havn't given my home the usual January throw out & tidy up routine.

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    1. yay! We will join you soon. Funny how those things can dissipate and morph and change. Or did this change occur because you set some intention or approached it in a different way this year?

      Spring is a good cleaning time too!

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    2. Usually I feel so guilty about not beginning any work but this year i just accepted that it was a free month ..... the next thing i noticed I had finished a totem in January. It is also the first year that i have been strong enough to say no to commissions.

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    3. We are such funny creatures! It's really all about working with what goes on our heads, don't you think? I can see the wisdom in saying to yourself "it's a free month" . Somehow the pressure is off. It's like something inside breaths a sigh of relief and energy can just flow naturally.

      I woke up yesterday morning with the thought in my head, "I am always "wanting" something from myself. Wouldn't it just be nice to simply be in a state where I am not wanting me to be or act in any pre-conceived ways."

      Happy Friday, Robyn!

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  3. Try sweeping. Just sweeping the studio. Nothing else. That seems to work well for me. I sweep and while I sweep ideas come. Soon I out the broom down.............

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    1. I like this idea of sweeping for a variety of reasons. There is something metaphorical about it! You are wise! I do find just the getting into the physical space and spending time there, the opportunity to get hooked in is there.

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  4. What seems like avoidance is merely part of the creative process. While we're cleaning and doing other seemingly mundane chores, our minds are getting themselves back in creative gear. Therefore, there's nothing for you to cop to -- you're just doing your process, just doing you.

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  5. Ahhhh - the good life! :) I'd love a corner on that 100 acre wood! :)

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    1. yes, you and Pooh Bear would love to ramble and chat your way round the pond. Eyeore lives just down the road!

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  6. you write so well about a universal challenge! Falling back into the zone! and believing that is where we belong - I can relate!! I guess we all find our little tricks to get back to that creative spot - collage works for me - it's like doodling for me - glue, paper and marks - all things I love and the working of them invariably pull me back - I liked Roberta's sweeping - thanks for the post! xo

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    1. I am always inspired by your "you must make an effort to put something into motion". I like the collage idea, as I find it less commitment to move pieces of paper around!

      Yeah, the sweeping is a great one!

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  7. I was chomping at the bit during the holidays, which came from visiting with a friend who is an artist. Seeing her works, studio and home made me suddenly want to do everything! I made a list of things I want to explore in the studio as a way to keep the energy alive. Now I am referring to the list and saying - oh yes! That too!

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  8. I feel your energy just reading this! Looking forward to seeing the fruits of your explorations!

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  9. As Leslie visited me during the holidays, I hope she is talking about me and my home :-)... anyway, I also have been cleaning out and organizing.. what is it about Jan. that brings this out... starting a new year clean and fresh and filled with hope?

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    1. Yes, I think I had seen you mention that Leslie had visited so the same thought went through my mind! You lucky two!

      These ARE good things to do in Jan. I like that : "clean and fresh and filled with hope"

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  10. It's so good to read your 'willingness to wander about'... I will fall into a place where things just happen, where I disappear.
    The disappearing part is so rich...and clearly touches a fertile waiting place within...beauteous '-)

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  11. I think the new year signals a new beginning... something we can get once a year.. so every new year we clean out-- both physically and mentally.. to finally begin anew... when we are ready.

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