instinctive meditation, journaling, perception

Experience and the Power of Observation

William Woodward’s “Biloxi Art Pottery,” 1890s. Oil painting. Collection of the Biloxi Public Library.
Image is a painting of a bearded man wearing a hat, with his sleeves rolled up and making a pot on a potter’s wheel. In the background are windows, and another man in the back of the studio working.

The open door caught my attention first as I walked by. With curiosity, I slowed down, and then to a stop. Sunlight streamed in and highlighted the kiln, which gave off a sense of heat. Stacks of pottery in organized chaos were laid out on a board nearby. In the back of the studio, behind a counter was a person working on a pot, The way their work light illuminated them, and the way they were wearing their knitted hat, took the whole scene out of time, if it weren’t for the modern kiln. I had come across a living chiaroscuro painting. It felt like magic.

The artist sensed me, and a hesitation came across their face. I moved on, glad I hadn’t followed my reflex to take out my phone and take a picture. Back before there were cameras in portable phones, I rarely took pictures. For me, it felt like I could either have the experience, or be an observers and document what was going on, but not feel like part of what was going on.

A few moments later, and down the road, a silver flash revealed someone sitting on their porch, playing the banjo. The person’s face had an expression of relaxed absorption in the moment. I walked down the sidewalk a ways, took out my phone, pointed it to the sidewalk and away from the person to record the sound, and they stopped playing. Right away I hoped they were simply pausing and that I hadn’t interrupted them, even with the distance. Porches are made for sitting on and playing music.

Sitting here now, I’m amazed how much detail my mind caught of the potter’s studio. The lighting, the colour palette, the whole energy of the scene. I credit it in part to the ease of my meditative practice. I find more and more how quickly I can enter a state of relaxed awareness and more fully experience where I am, or what I am doing. Or being. I’m so grateful to have found a way to more deeply connect my inner and outer worlds in a way that doesn’t require anything of me other that being open to follow where the essence of life leads.
The open door caught my attention first as I walked by. With human curiosity I slowed down, and then to a stop. Sunlight streamed in and highlighted the kiln, which gave off a sense of heat. Stacks of pottery in organized chaos were laid out on a board nearby. In the back of the studio, behind a counter was a person working on a pot, The way their work light illuminated them, and the way they were wearing their knitted hat, took the whole scene out of time, if it weren’t for the modern kiln. I had come across a living chiaroscuro painting.

The artist sensed me, and a hesitation came across their face. I moved on, glad I hadn’t followed my reflex to take out my phone and take a picture.

A few moments later, and down the road, a silver flash revealed someone sitting on their porch, playing the banjo. The person’s face had an expression of relaxed absorption in the moment. I walked down the sidewalk a ways, took out my phone, pointed it to the sidewalk and away from the person to record the sound, and they stopped playing. Right away I hoped they were simply pausing and that I hadn’t interrupted them, even with the distance. Porches are made for sitting on and playing music.

Sitting here now, I’m amazed how much detail my mind caught of the potter’s studio. The lighting, the colour palette, the whole energy of the scene. I credit it in part to the ease of my meditative practice. I find more and more how quickly I can enter a state of relaxed awareness and more fully experience where I am, or what I am doing. Or being. I’m so grateful to have found a way to more deeply connect my inner and outer worlds in a way that doesn’t require anything of me other that being open to follow where the essence of life leads.

And how now I have an intriguing potter’s studio I can visit at any time in my mind. I have found a way to both experience and document the world around me in a way that has opened me up to all sorts of possibilities and adventures.

creative practice, Creativity, inspiration, instinctive meditation, journaling, meditation, mindfulness, perception, Personal growth

The Texture of Light

This morning on my walk suddenly came to me the phrase “the texture of light”… hmmm.. ok.. that seems a bit vague, and intriguing.  I’ve just gotten used to the concept of the texture of breath, so let’s explore the texture of light as I walk.  Mostly I let my body feel the idea of “light” as I walked, and then came home sat with “the texture of light”. And all my senses came out to play.

How a sunny day can feel like plunging my hand into honey, or a pocket lines in something fuzzy and soft. The laughter of butterflies. Exuberance. The smell of a puppy’s head, or chamomile in summer fields. Bright light can reveal, invite growth, and it can be searing, desiccating and deadly. It can sound like trumpets, or a party.

Light bouncing off water- dancing on a wall and feeling like cold rippled glass. The shimmering of chimes.

Shadows like voluptuous velvet, or digging my toes into crumbling dirt. A deep and distant hum.

Cool light like the tickle of mist or snowflakes. If I stand still with ears and heart open, I can hear the mist settling on my skin.

Moonlight- mystery, magic, connection, and cycles. Coldness. Sorrow.

Candles and firelight invite me inward.  Into story time, coziness and sleep.

Considering something from outside its usual perspective or sense can not only enrich experience with something, in this case light, but can also serve to spark creative thinking in other ways.

What in your world might you explore with this approach? What fresh insights did you gain?

I can’t wait to explore more this idea of the texture of light.
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Image is a close up photo I took of my dish scrubber. It’s all a matter of being willing to experience differently.