Using creative practice and meditation as a means of self discovery
Author: Adele Satori
I am a life long artist dedicated to inviting curiosity and enhancing life experience using my creative gifts while walking with others on our creative journeys. I'm a 500-hour Authorized Teacher of Instinctive Meditation®. Meditation and creative practices flow together so well!
Image shows a mountain stream with rocks and fallen trees. In this distance are trees and a sunny sky.
“Through me course wide rivers and in me rise tall mountains. And beyond the thickets of my agitation and confusion there stretch the wide pains of my peace and surrender. All landscapes are within me. And there is room for everything.” Etty Hillesum.
This passage is so evocative of Instinctive Meditation® to me. In this practice, we welcome all aspects of ourselves- the wild, the serene, the playful, the contemplative. The mind is allowed to go on an adventure. It may roam around for awhile, and it may eventually settle into a state of apparent stillness and calm. Find a deeper connection within, as well as the outer world.
This is the way of meditation for modern people. Won’t you join me?
Image shows close up of Reverie lap harp I use in my sound experience offerings
I woke up this morning thinking about the vibration of sound. Literally. Eyes opened. Vibration of sound.
I went spontaneously into meditation around the vibration of sound, specifically music. The memories of laying on the living room floor during our Sunday family listening sessions, the vibrations from the speakers flowing into my ears, and my body through the floor.
I can’t remember the first time our family went to an orchestral concert (I was so lucky we did this!), but suddenly I was transported to the dusty balcony of Northrop Auditorium, sitting on a scritchy burgundy velvet seat, sensing the pre-concert excitement. I don’t remember it then, but this morning I had the distinct memory of feeling the vibrations of the music on my body. I lay there in my bed this morning for a few minutes, reliving that kidhood memory from so long ago.
And later, as an oboe player, from 6th grade to early adulthood. Sitting in a band or orchestra. The vibration of the reed, the pulsation of the sounds around me, becoming one with the flow of music.
Once watching a beloved person share their music on stage, I could see the pulsing vibrations of the music expand over the audience.
How many times music was my solace, my companion, my healer. I hadn’t really thought of it until today how much a component the vibration has been in all this.
In Sanskrit, the word spanda has definitions of vibration, movement, puslation, the Universal Pulsation (and more. I’m learning Sanskrit is interesting in this way). Everything around us is in vibration, appearing as objects, light, sound, subtle energy sensations. A continual dance of expansion and contraction.
The Sanskrit word tantra, contains definitions of “the wire or string of a lute”, and also “strings of the heart” (thank you Lorin Roche, PhD for introducing me to Sanskrit!).
Maybe this is why I enjoy so much incorporating the Reverie harp and monochord in my current musical explorations and offerings. Sometimes I like to lay on the floor, with the Reverie harp on my belly, languidly plucking the strings, and being carried away on the vibrations, much like that little girl, laying on the floor, enraptured by the vibration of sound.
Image shows a rippling sunlit pool of water surrounded by rocks and ferns.
I started as expected. The Way it is done. Eyes closed. Hands folded just so. Then I felt my bones pressing into the stone seat. A blade of grass Tickled my foot.
My eyes opened. I watched bees gather at the waters edge to share a drink and talk of sweetest flowers.
Two butterflies dared each other on invisible currents.
Bird landed, flitted and chirped.
A rock leaned over to talk to a tree.
Tree curve echoed the curve of the creek.
And I knew.
It is every bit as much a prayer, being part of things as they unfold, As to sit. As expected. The Way it is done. Eyes closed. Hands folded just so.
The other day I was talking with a friend, and they mentioned another friend who was holding on to ways of being that were no longer serving them and weighing them down. I gently told my friend that some of what they were dealing with was beyond the scope of friendship (i.e. a good time to bring in a mental health professional), and at times the best we can do is be a witness to someone else’s journey. And then I said:
“It’s like they have a bunch of rocks in their pocket! It’s like they’ve collected all these rocks of experience and habits over the years, put them in their pocket, and won’t get rid of them.”
We went on to talk about how sometimes it’s so challenging to release habits and ways of thinking that really aren’t doing us any good. Rocks in a pocket is a good analogy. Some are pretty and nice to take out to look at now and then, some get annoying and poke us, and others bunch together and take up space we could use for something else, weighing us down and slowing our journey.
I suggested it could be an interesting exercise to go out on a walk, collect rocks, or find some near a lakeshore or creek edge. Hold each rock, name what it represents, say what you’re making room for, and send the rock sailing into the water (being mindful of any nearby living things). Water is so purifying, and it would be satisfying to watch the ripples as the water settled back into calm.
My friend said it could be cool to do it on a hike and throw rocks into a canyon, to which I replied… you’d want to be sure no one was down below so you don’t bonk someone on the head with your troubles (i.e. transfer your burdens on to someone else).
If you’re not able to get somewhere to empty your pocket of rocks, I suppose you could write things on paper and burn them (be safe!), or as an acquaintance did years ago, put on some goggles and smash garage sale dishes in your basement, naming what each item represented. That person ended up making mosaics with all the broken bits! Some cities have rage rooms, where for a fee you can go smash stuff.
But there’s nothing quite so satisfying as flinging a rock with all your might, and watching it disappear into the water.
Image shows freshly watered grass, with a house in the background.
I nearly honoured my inner dog on my walk yesterday morning. It was towards the end of my walk, and I was getting hot. I walked past this freshly watered patch of lush grass sparkling in the sun and thought… Oh man.. if I was a dog, I’d lay down and wriggle all around, and do that funny sneeze snort dogs do when they’re overcome what seems to be doggy joy.
I dunno why I didn’t. There wasn’t anyone else around that I could see.
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