That’s gotta be worth something!

I was a practicing conservator for many years. Both of my galleries sold local and regional artists works, rare books and manuscripts and we specialized in restoring old frames, and works of art on paper. SO I have many stories to tell not all of them nice and happy. But one that sticks out as a good reference for everyone to learn from, involved an excited young couple. They had found a piece of art at an antique auction. The auctioneer had presented it as an original, signed Gustave Dore engraving. The frame was stated to be the original frame from the same period as the engraving. This is a very nice engraving, well framed for the period in a gold leafed ornate frame. The young couple fell in love with the detail and spirit of the engraving. Dore after all was a master of masters in his art. They paid $200.00 at the auction and were very happy to have paid this. They brought the piece to us and asked what we could do. My sales man told them we could clean and repair the frame and glass, but he could not speak of more until we opened the framed art and inspected all that was now hidden behind the dustcover.
I also love Paul Gustave Dore. I own a first printed edition of several of the books he illustrated. My favorite is Dante’s Inferno. So when I saw the piece they had brought in I understood their pleasure and attachment to it.
I called them later that evening to discuss further restorations, if they might want them.
Here’s the life lesson.
When dealing with things in life that you hold dear –there is no dollar value. I am speaking of those things are and should remain valueless. We should never even consider the monetary worth of a painting, a plate, a car, a vase, or anything if we are emotionally attached to it. NEVER.
When the young man put me on speaker as I presented him with the various things that I could do for the engraving they had brought to me, I realized I needed to trod softly. The cost for my work and the restoration that I could perform was about$350.00. That included restoration to the frame and new UV coated glass and cleaning of the engraving. I cringed as the wife excitedly told me about the research that they had done so far on Dore. They had found out how well known and prolific an artist he was and how collectable his engravings were considered to be.
I asked what references they were using and explained that sometimes the values presented were estimated or perceived. Then the question that I was dreading came. The question that we have all asked at one time or another when we consider the broader value of something we deem unusual, unique, antique or “surely valuable”.
“We’ll, said the man, I consider the price of the restoration to be an investment, after all this is a very valuable piece of art, ISN’T IT?”
I do not like to deceive or in any other way exaggerate art. Art collection is speculative and one should only collect art that you love emotionally unless you are willing to treat it like a share of stock.
So I replied. “Gustave Dore and his apprentices were first and foremost illustrators. The piece that you have is a page from a book published in about 1865. These books are fairly large folio’s and the engraving quality is very good for a mass publication. This piece however is glued to a composite compressed paper board. In my opinion it wouldn’t be something that you would be able to resell for more than what you are considering investing in it.”
The phone went silent. “Hold on", I said. Why would you want to sell it? Isn’t this one of the first pieces of art that you have purchased? “Yes “Replied the young wife. We are in our first home and we just loved the angels in that picture.” “It has so much detail that it just draws you into what’s happening, said the husband.”
“So how much are those feelings worth?” I asked. “I know”, they said together and then laughed.
There’s the lesson, shared emotion, excitement, enjoyment, whatever you are feeling when you look at that Thing makes it valuable- not what someone else is willing to pay.
The credit card company tells us that the memories that we make on an expensive vacation are “Priceless”. I say the emotions that are stirred whenever we look at that old photo of grandma, or hold that little clay pot we made in 3rd grade, are very valuable. Just like buying food, clothes and shelter because these things are required we must find and hold onto those things that we recognize the emotional value of. So when you still have that antique engraving that you bought for your first home –because it spoke to you and you loved it; it should be treated like the treasure it is. When it stirs no more emotion and cannot speak. Well then you can only get what someone else will pay for those same feelings. And then, just like I am when I get my annual 401 statement, you might be surprised.

Note to self

Have you ever received a letter -not an e-mail, a letter handwritten and personal? Doesn’t that feel good. Someone took the time to tell you something they thought you would like to know.
I have taken that one step further. Every so often I will write myself a note. I don't waste the stamp, I just put it in with bills to be paid or attach it to the Sierra Club calendar in the kitchen a few months from now. I like it to be kind of surprising when I find it. Like when you put on a winter jacket for the first time this year and find money in the pocket -that’s nice, right?
So here is my -Note to self:
Today you will smile more. Make it a point to smile as often as possible –There are a million reasons to smile. Today you will laugh more often, if for no other reason than to be healthy, happiness is healthy.
Today you will eat less, eat healthy, and eat mindfully. Mindful of the amount. Mindful of the quality. Mindful of the origin. Today you will calmly enjoy every bite and eat no more than is filling.
Today you will be creative. You are an artist and should strive to be artistic in every aspect of your life. Today you will look at something new and artistically express it - draw, paint, design, write, and create –you are an artist.
Today you will focus inward on how healthy and fit you are. You are a vital, living, powerful person. You are much healthier than most people, focus on your how healthy you are.
Today you will allow yourself to feel worthy, and capable. You have permission to do what you have told yourself to do. You have permission and a responsibility to do these things because you are expected to do the best job that you can as Husband, Father, and Friend. You are worth making yourself better –take time to do so now.

De ja-vu - just another turtle

Ever feel like you’re just another turtle in a long line of turtles. When someone yells we all duck, when something bigger than us glides over we tuck our heads in our shells. When the sun moves and our place on the log is no longer warm and cozy, we have no choice but stay and wait or Jump into the water and find another log.
I’m there this morning. I had a sunny and warm spot out on the end of the log. All my turtle buddies stacked up like evening traffic behind me. Things were cozy. Then out of nowhere a loud noise, then we all see the hawk’s shadow, and the sun finally moves below the tree line and this section of the log is in the shade. So now the dilemma hits all of us at once. “Well turtles -I choose to stay”.
A couple of my buddies have dropped off in search of bright warm logs. But I’ve been here a while I am comfortable and I have the sense to realize that I don’t have any control of the sun. It’ll be out here on this log again tomorrow almost definitely.
I have seen days of rain and wind when it was more comfortable in the water. I’ve even been around when the river flooded and we all had to get out of the water and let a whole new group of logs roll by until things settled down and we had our pick of new logs to climb into the sun on. –Some turned out not so comfortable. But in the end there have always been logs, there has always been water, and there are always comfortable places in the sun where I can find myself surrounded by other turtles –lined up like afternoon traffic trying to get comfortable and stay dry as long as possible.

Metaphor for what metta is for!

Religious Composting

I believe that I am like many folks here in the US and I’m sure abroad as well when we are speaking about religion. My grandparents on one side were of two different faiths, Agnostic and Episcopalian. My grandmother on the other side was Catholic. My parents were of two different beliefs Catholic and Atheist. My wife has similar religious mixes in her family. We are, when it comes to religious upbringing, compost.
Over thousands of years people have been marrying outside of their religious beliefs and practices. This marriage can be harmonious or not, but either way it produces offspring that believe and practice things differently than their parents. The cycle of change is never ending. But surprisingly the seeds that grow in the compost of many of the world’s great religions are not always healthy and fertile. Some of these can be called weeds. Pesky things that creep up almost overnight until they have begun to show up everywhere. Some of these weeds fail to get established and others find a place to live where they are appreciated and nurtured and then they are no longer considered a pest. They become accepted into the broader understanding. But the old stock religions, those that have evolved to outlast the weeds and perhaps even been grafted to far older beliefs. These are the great products of the religious compost heap. This cycle has actually changed and created some religious beliefs that we hold dear today. Buddhism is a product of religious compost. Just look at the various sects and regions of Buddhism. The root stock is solid. In many regions Buddhism was grafted to older more established religious practice and adopted by practitioners and scholars alike. Looking at the spread of Buddhism in the US, we can see the religious compost process in action. It has been adapted and incorporated into many different views within the last 50 years. And yet the fruits are still as appealing and nourishing as I imagine they were when the first seeds and pruned branches hit the bin. Feeding the masses requires vast and endless varieties of fruit. Cultivation and hybridization has served that need since the dawn of belief. So in my home we celebrate every view and every ideal. Because having a full and bountiful basket to choose from is far better than eating what you are handed.

Celebrate diversity

I loved that van ...

At a party recently I made a mental note of a change in conversation that I got caught in. I made a mental note because it had the theme of nostalgia. I hadn’t found this line of conversation appealing in the past. I am younger than most of my friends, they are all retired or close to it, their kids are grown, they are old. So when I found myself in a conversation where I used the phrase “I can remember when…”I turned on the mental pocket recorder. I have never been one to wax quixotic about things before. I love technology, I adore modern innovations. But when someone picked up this little toy and asked me about my VW van, well a warm flush came over me. As I took the little toy from them I told them how my wife got it for me several years ago and as I spoke I was transported to the vinyl seat overlooking a bus style steering wheel and nothing between me and the headlights but poly-foam and thin sheet metal.
Wow; what is that –it just happened again.
Ok I admit I really had fun in my van. That was 20 years ago. So this conversation that I remember had a sickeningly sweet smell of “Man, I remember when …”
I can’t stand that. I can’t stand it because when people begin to measure their happiness, success and appearance with what they think they’ve lost or think they need; well then they have already fallen from the tree house of self worth. I agree that we are all envious, and even resentful of things we don’t have. I think civilization has been built on people getting something that they want. Land, gold, oil, grain these are the things that wars are fought over. This is the bad side of desire. So when people say “I’ll be much happier if…” or “When I (blank) everything will be great.” I tune them out. I also tune out old people when they start reminiscing about what they had, should have done, or wish they could do again. I have trained myself to value where I am. I have spent long hours focusing on where I am in life and how lucky I am to have friends, wife, kids, and all that I have. I have worked really hard to prevent myself from having destructive thoughts that diminish my value as a person.
So when I realized that I missed how I felt driving my VW van, with those vinyl seats, and the huge steering wheel, I made a mental note. I noted how much I missed the little corner window that could instantly blast me with wind when I opened it. It was awesome when I drove for hours, immersed in music and scenery and the ever present RRRRRRRRRRRRRRR of the engine.
I could fit 10 friends in that van. At one point I had two recliners as middle seats. I found them when I was dumpster diving behind married-housing on campus right after graduation. I loved that van.
It didn’t have airbags, seatbelts, air conditioning or a heater. But 4 of us could sleep in it –not comfortably but there were many times that we did. I really loved that van.
The conversation came to an abrupt end when my buddy said “Why don’t you get another one, the kids would love it.” I was horrified. I said, “”An old one? No Way man! Those things are dangerous and very unreliable. And a new one –they’re just not the same.”
Since that party I have been thinking more and more about the past, and how I would really enjoyed having this or that. Hiking the AT again, Surfing, traveling on a shoestring. And I think of how these things made me feel. What I realized is that all of us have that something that takes us back or propels us forward in our life and makes us see our self in a different way, a more appealing and desirable way. A new car, a face lift, more money, a larger house, these are things that many of us think will improve our life. I realized that if I got myself an old VW van I wouldn’t see it the same way I saw it then. It wouldn’t make me feel the same way it does in my memory. Remembering isn’t dangerous. It’s acting on the desire to be someone else that’s harmful. I realized that quite often people go to great lengths to get what they think they need to be happy or appealing or successful only to realize that they may have gotten what they wanted but they are the same person. I decided I don’t want to be an old guy in the old VW van. I decided that it’s ok to just flashback and enjoy the ride. And I listen closely when the old guys I hang out with say, “Hey man, remember when…” Yah –I remember, and wasn’t it awesome.
Have I told you about how I got this little hula girl…

Fish cakes and other happy foods

In my home food is art, nutritious and yummy art. My wife and I are pretty focused on nutritious and healthy but we cook very differently. She approaches food like a pharmacist. She uses precise amounts of select ingredients to make tasteful meal. I dive into the culinary arts like Jackson Pollock. I throw color and taste and smell into a bowl of emotion and display it like a collage. My grandmother used to say food is food, but a good meal takes creativity, daring and love. I like to make my family sit up with wonder when the kitchen smells start to migrate and smile when they get to the table.
I have recently introduced my family to mindful eating. It’s not our cup-o- green tea. We like to savor our meals yes, but we love talking and laughing (we never do this with a full mouth) and gaining the full spectrum of nourishment from the meal together. We do take time to enjoy each bite and we always discuss the ingredients and quite often discuss who and where they came from My wife and son have the uncanny ability to end each meal with the perfect bite. That last forkful is a combination of just the right combination of items. My daughter doesn’t like foods to touch so she sets up her plate in shifts. I am the opposite; I make faces on my plate any chance I get. Smiley faces of Ketchup are common.
We all have different likes and dislikes. We all taste, smell, and see food in a unique way. My glass of water may taste different to me than it would to you. But human nature demands that we all feel connected. Because of this food has been a casualty of conformity. And for many this need to conform makes it far less appealing to have fun cooking. My wife is a victim of this but her rehab is almost complete. Don’t stay stuck in a “white bread” rut. Use a cookie cutter before you make your toast. Save the scraps and fry them with a little oil and spices – croutons are yummy anytime. Put blue food coloring in your poached or scrambled eggs and serve them with sweet pickles and melon slices. Eat cake for breakfast, put berries in your water, and add edible flowers to your oatmeal. Make an effort to laugh and talk about what you eat. Try foods you’re scared of like eel, raw oysters, beets, and hot sauce.
Have fun creating, keep it simple and colorful, and above all if you make pancakes NEVER make them round.
I find that nourishment for the soul comes in many ways and some of them are served hot.

As a Buddhist I have a hard time imagining heaven. When friends and family members speak of it they present many of the same aspects. Heaven to them is a place of no illness, no want, no need and no hate. To them heaven is unbelievably beautiful, filled with mansions and palaces and all the worldly things that are denied here. In heaven they will be surrounded by all their loved ones friends and relatives who have died. When I have been asked, I tell them that I have a hard time understanding the concept because I am pretty darned impressed with right here. Sunsets in the desert, sun rises over the Caribbean, and the redwood forests and birth are all pretty hard to beat.
Illness makes life interesting and challenging and teaches us humility, compassion, and makes me appreciate every moment. When my mother was diagnosed with a brain tumor –wow life and mom suddenly got much more valuable.
Desire? We all enjoy our desires, but it can be overcome –just ask a monk, nun, priest or better yet ask yourself what you have that you don’t need to live out the week. I would venture to say that these things that come to mind are yours because of want, not need. . But the other side of desire drives technology, psychology, ecology, and all the studies of something to make life better for the next generation. Desire drives us to be better and do better. Don’t get rid of all desire only the aspects that don’t benefit our fellow man.

And need? All those things we need make life so much more incredible, why would anyone ever want to be without them. Air, water, sun, plants, animals, and other people –I need these things and what they can provide.
No hate. The lack of hate is an interesting part of heaven to me, mainly because so many people seem quite attached to it. Why would you want to be somewhere for an eternity where you weren’t yourself?

Do you hate something?

Maybe someone, a food maybe, or perhaps you hate a thing like cancer or death. Have you ever thought of letting that hate go –just try? Give it up like a bad habit. I bet you have a hard time letting go.
I tell my friends that I do believe in an afterlife. I just don’t see it the way they do. To them Heaven is somewhere you go. To me heaven is somewhere you live.

Gate Gate Paragate

Paddling to oneness

I am an avid paddler. I paddle a canoe, and a kayak –the needs of the day dictate the boat I use. Both my children were in a canoe before they could walk and they were both paddling with little homemade paddles as soon as they could reach over the gunwale (side) of the canoe. When I learned to paddle I gained confidence and awareness of the beauty around me. The awareness was quite eye opening. In a canoe or kayak you can glide along a river and glance at the things passing by with little concern or great concentration. You can stop and inspect it or just pass it by without a second glance. This understanding became very useful when I began to learn meditation. “Follow the rhythm of your breathing” I was told in the beginning of several instructions. So I did. I followed it deep into unknown territory where I feared that something I was doing was incorrect and my back began to hurt and I cracked open one eye to see if I was sitting right. I was a mess. My ego got the best of me, and my internal narrator told me I wasn’t getting it.
And then one day as I was paddling I realized that I was following a rhythm, the cadence of my paddling was steady and purposeful and mindless. My mind was free to grab onto anything that caught its interest. My interest would guide me to inspection and review and memorization. But mostly my mind was just there in the body, in the boat, in the river, moving through life, lots and lots of life. The paddling cadence changed as the river changed. Muscles moved to correct my place in the current and when required my mind would momentarily focus on the actions needed to continue on my easy trip. And as easily as it changed focus into my body it would revert back into the world around me falling away from awareness of the action of paddling to once again merge with everything and with nothing at one time.
Occasionally I will find that I am intently watching a dragonfly on my canoe or a bird wading in the grass. Far more often while I am paddling my mind is wandering in the present moment, taking in everything that I am seeing and feeling, every action and every emotion. These things float through my mind like thistle seeds on the wind. They are present in my awareness, but I hold onto little of it as it floats by.
This is meditation. I have done some walking meditation, and after much work my breath meditation works to get me relaxed and into a deeper consciousness. I’m not quite sure that anyone could paddle to enlightenment. But I am sure that here is a rhythm to life and everything has its place in the never-ending tune.

Come on, find your rhythm so you can play along.

Life requires balance

Have you ever seen a balanced stack of stones while walking along the beach or a trail or in a riverbank? I think these simple structures are very interesting art forms. They are non invasive, all natural, esthetically pleasing, and best of all impermanent. And I make them everywhere. My favorite place to balance stones is in riverbeds. When visiting the forests of the east coast it is a family custom to walk barefoot for hours along side or in any inviting stream, creek or river we find. Preferably one that isn’t commonly overrun with people –these are more likely to have broken glass.
Balancing stones takes a singular focus of mind and muscle. When balancing each stone you have to feel how it connects to the supporting stone. I enjoy this connection. Focusing on how the stone is shaped and where it‘s weight is distributed and positioning it for the best support can be time consuming and frustrating. Failure is common and usually comes with bruised fingers and toes. But I really love the result.
I try to look at my relationships with friends and family in a similar manner. Each person has their shape, their center, and certainly they all have a connection to their support. Some people are well supported and some aren’t. Some people are perfectly capable of balancing the weight of others and some can barely manage to stay upright. Then there are those rare people who are well balanced in every position. These folks are good foundations for whoever relies on them for support.
Most people can balance for a good long time. This balancing act is referred to as “juggling” in my circle of friends. Many of them are juggling an aging parent, college aged children, and their own issues. But one thing is for sure balance is impermanent. The stones we stand will fall.
Life requires us to realize at an early age that we have to be able to focus on the stones that are still balanced after a collapse. We need to focus on learning how to let the stones fall where they may as we juggle our lives or balance ourselves with others.
So I have taught my kids to balance stones. They are good at it as long as those stones are not too heavy or oddly shaped. My wife on the other hand does not worry about balancing stones. She prefers to just sit on a large foundation stone and be there to comfort bruised fingers, when the stones were balancing come falling down.

Balanced stones will fall.

What is the deal with “dog years”? I have been puzzled by this since the first time someone told me; “Dogs have seven birthdays for every human year.” That’s just weird. Dogs don’t celebrate birthdays. If they did they would have one every 52 days or so. You know; that would be awesome. If you think about it, birthday parties are so much fun. Cake, party hats, presents. All our friends would come with their dogs as if our dogs were friends. I think I will start sending out invitations to my dog’s birthdays this week. But if I do should I have a belated birthday party for the one I missed two weeks ago? I’ll need to plan these things out.
Do people with cats have cat birthdays?
Hold on.
OK, I just checked the web and found that there is a lot of contention about this whole animal year’s thing. Dog years to human years are progressively reducing in number as the dog gets older. Like the dog turns 15 in his first human year, and 24 in the next human year. But they only age 4 dog years to every human year after their 24th dog birthday. Cats are about the same.
Horses have some weird declining conversion that basically suggests that a horses age will freeze when its 16 human years.
All of this is pretty bizarre to me. I grew up on a horse farm –we never worried about animals birthdays after they were born. I think that we should just celebrate life every day. We should all have random parties throughout the year after age 16. We should have premade cakes and cards that say “Happy Life!”
We could sing “Happy life to you, were very glad you’re here, it’s been great having you around so far this year.” or something like that. I find that celebrating any birthday is really just that, a celebration of life. We celebrate the fact that everyone is here to enjoy the cake, to provide cards and well wishes. The presents are just an added benefit.
For me my birthday has had little impact on the many lives I have lived so far. I had an awesome but rough life as a small child. With multiple surgeries, several cases of pneumonia, chicken pocks, ear aches and so forth –very little of which I can remember. Mom says I was a very happy child. I had a great life as a school aged kid –I won lots of art contests, learned to swim, paddle a canoe, and developed a love for the outdoors and a pension for reading and learning that still benefits me today. I was very blessed in my life as a teen ager in that I lived through these years to become a stronger, more independent, wiser and more cautious person. College life was, well let’s just say all my experiments, experiences, expansions of thought and relationships made me who I am today and put me in contact with my wife and best friend. Then there’s my life as a husband, father, artist, professional and so forth…
People have just about as many birthdays as dogs we just fail to celebrate these pivotal times of our year. We really should just celebrate life. Apparently dogs do.

Trail rules

I love to explore a new trail. I really enjoy going somewhere I haven’t gone before and see new sights. I have learned over the years that each new place has its own set of trail rules. I think this enjoyment for exploration is deeply rooted in our human nature. We are all on our own path. We came into this world surrounded by people who love us, people who will learn to love us and people who will never know us. Unfortunately for almost all of us there will be far more of the latter than the former. As we walk the path of our life we are taught the trail rules. These are the subtle little nuances of life that keep us safe. These are the social graces, moral codes, public behaviors and rules of engagement that will shape us into who we will be as an adult and into the next life.
In the last 20 years or more I find that I run into folks who seem to be quite inept at learning and understanding the trail rules of a new region or a new culture. I have actually encountered a couple who were very upset at the waiter and manager of a restaurant that nothing on the menu was “American”. It was rather funny to me because I was in Mexico. And I have been even more amused at the beach when people who moments ago were feeding the sea gulls, were actually cursing at a life guard for allowing all the “damn-birds” at the beach. (Yep, if it eats, it craps.)
Trail rules make life much easier. Being comfortable is far easier when you understand your place in your immediate surroundings. When I am about to hike or paddle somewhere I haven’t been before I take a little time to acclimate myself to the possible dangers of the area, especially those that might cause me a false sense of confidence. Like when a river turns back on itself and has many branches that might cause me to get turned around, or when an area has snakes or plants that look very similar to the ones around my home but are in fact a very dangerous look alike. And I also take a moment to understand the beauty and uniqueness of my surroundings so I don’t miss that rare encounter with some creature that is very scared of people or that butterfly or flower that is found only in certain areas. Makes sense right.
Dinner parties, new jobs, large social gatherings are no less dangerous and have similar opportunities for discovery. They share many of the same pit falls. Look around yourself and take a mental poll. On an average day, how many people do you encounter that are just plowing their way through life? These poor souls miss out on so many awesome and rewarding experiences. They miss out on making friends; they miss out on expanding their understanding of the world. And they miss out on being truly comfortable with people, places and cultures. Mostly they fail to realize that in many ways most of the trails we travel through life are very similar. The more you experience the broader your awareness of these similarities becomes. And you are less likely to be eaten by alligators.

Make every path extraordinary.

This is my latest painting. I am stuck, and I can't get motivated to finish it. I am stuck at a point on this one where I usually begin to deeply enjoy painting. At this point, usually time begins to be meaningless, my surroundings fall away from my awareness and I am “in the Zone”. I know that everyone has something they do that allows them to feel invigorated and wide awake. For my father that’s running, he runs marathons and gets in his “Zone” within a few miles. A friend and colleague is a programmer, he gets in the zone when the program begins to show promise, when his confidence in what he is working on goes from maybe to certainly. He says time stands still and clarity hits him and his coding fingers fly. Another friend is a writer, he has the same experience as I am sure you do when you are into something you enjoy or that challenges you.
After working on this painting several evenings in a row I just couldn’t continue my motivation to do more. I know why. It’s simple. I don’t like pine trees. I never have. They provide little shade unless they are densely packed and then they are almost uninviting because very little underbrush will grow beneath the canopy of a pine forest. I realize that this seems silly, but it’s the only excuse I could come up with.
The zone is the point at which we are singularly focused on the task at hand. We are “in the moment” and mindful. But I find that I can’t just turn it on, it has to happen, I believe that the Zone is a mix of emotions. It’s a cocktail of feelings that your served when you are just enjoying life. You get it when you are doing something that feeds your soul. I know many artists who go through the motions every day sculpting, painting, turning bowls. Each piece they complete is good but when you ask them to show you their best, those pieces are usually associated with how they felt at the time. My point here is that sometimes when we do something we really enjoy it begins to become stale. That thing you loved for whatever reason doesn’t do it for you today. Running, diving, canoeing, basketball, painting, and playing the (shakuhachi) flute can all get stale and tasteless. But that’s ok, keep at it! This is something that you love to do afterall. Change your activity a little. Do something you haven’t done before while doing whatever it is you get pleasure from. For me I am painting a few oaks with my pine trees, I hate pine trees but the challenge of painting them may turn in to that elusive joy I can only get when I’m “in the zone”. Maybe it will happen soon, if I only just keep going.

Zoning out.

A little enlightenment

I have this little Buddha netsuke. It was carved out of ivory in about 1860. At that time in Japan things were under a lot of turmoil. The ruling Shogun was overthrown and an age of “richness and strength” became the goal of the country as they focused on modernization partnering in trade with the US and other strong countries. The culture of Japan was changing.
This little Buddha sits silently in meditation, expressing enlightened mindfulness. He reminds me simply of the life and philosophy of the Buddha nothing more.
But as I took this photo intending to write about what it represents to me, I realized the dynamic time that this little statue's maker lived in. During its transformation from whale tooth to this statue the artist was perhaps dealing with a life that would be changed with electricity, western suits, and perhaps more competition. The violent clash of cultures destined to mesh as all cultures must. Perhaps the artist had had to begin to carve more statues rather than utilitarian ornaments. Maybe of Christ as well to satisfy Religious changes that were now in full swing. Maybe the artist even thought about the interesting irony that he was sculpting the Buddha, the embodiment of compassion and respect for all living things out of the tooth from a whale that was brutally killed. All this is speculation on my part. As an artist I rarely think of things outside of my intended creation. I focus myopically on the tree I paint at that moment –bark, branch, leaf. As each stroke is applied I think of that stroke. My mind does not wander. This artist who carved such a wonderful representation of the immense statue at Pure Land Temple in Japan was probably well versed in the Way. It is far more probable that this statue was carved with thought of every stroke, every curve, and every cut.
Tuning out the turmoil of the world is difficult. Focusing on the moment at hand is not the way of the west, we multi-task, “faster, cheaper, easier” is the common motto.
But not for me, my world is in a state of turmoil. Our old shogun was recently removed. There is a new president urging the US to “embrace change, invest, lend a hand and hope”. Jobs are changing; our economy is in turmoil we are all looking at our world and our lives differently.
Artists work to represent the world around them, to help others see the world as they do.
So my thoughts come back to this little statue. I look at it to remind me of the focus and mindfulness of the Buddha. I try to keep my mind focused on the moment but often find that when I let my mind roam across possibility unhindered, I see the connection to all things. I am connected to this artist. We are all connected to all things, all beings through life, past present and future.
Rebirth does not ensure a new existence with new experiences, it only ensures that it life will continue to keep the circle turning.

Contemplate your circle.

Changing seasons of me

Spring is here. As I walk through the woods around my home I see the signs of a glorious spring emerging rapidly. Maple and elm branches are bulging with buds. Wood violets, jack-in-the-pulpit and ferns are unfurling and stretching like they have woken from a restful nap. And of course the spiders and flying insects have appeared overnight, which changes the volume of the songbirds dramatically. When the cool light winds of spring blow, the oaks push off their old leaves to create a light shower of bronze, which whispers of the rains to come. Of course signs of our furry neighbors are everywhere as well –especially in my newly planted flower beds.
The flower beds I plant contain some commercially grown plants and vegetables. I do this because I can’t stand to see living things discarded as if they have no value. I buy or retrieve the damaged or neglected plants and return them to vigor. These are the casualties of the retail designated spring-time that we are all bombarded with. Of course, flowering plants are one of the main products the commercialized change of seasons. Garden festivals are another. These established events herald the time for folks to become bright and cheerful and get outdoors. "It's spring time damn it -get with the program!" I presume that these indicators evolved as nature became pushed into pockets and niches of large cities. Many people see the manicured and professionally planned & planted parks as natural spaces. Lilies, tulips, daffodils, azaleas, and blooming trees blaze like prom dresses in the spring in almost every park and garden. But to me these are false signs of spring. We humans have a lust to design our surroundings to meet our desire. Hot houses and green houses can make plants bloom at any time of the year. And in the “spring” every garden department in the US is flooded with vegetables, hybridized fruit trees, forced bulbs, blooming annuals, and manicured shrubs. This is a false spring.
I prefer to let nature take its course. I don’t give in to the desire; I try to curb my lust for control in my garden and in my life. Many times I have to stop myself from acting on those commercially designed needs. I try to allow the seasons of My life, My body to progress naturally. I’m getting older. I am slowing down. I am learning the joys of wisdom and deep thought and packing up the pleasures of ability and quick action. I ask for help lifting things, I know my limitations. Sure I could be like the Retail spring events and employ every bright and shiny gadget to convince others that I am in the spring of my life –but this would be a false spring.
So I walk in the woods rather than run through them. And I see the value of the natural cycle.

Springing to life.

The circular motion of change, shakuhachi

At the moment I am obsessed with the shakuhachi. This unique instrument of distinctly Japanese fame and renown has the ability to create three octaves and emit undertones that make a most haunting and emotional sound. And I simply hate it!
I have been playing for over 20 years and a bit over a year ago I decided that I needed to change what I was doing. I decided that instead of a roaming and wandering tune (which is a method of meditation for me) I would like to sound like one of the guys on the meditation CD’s I have. I never had a desire to make a CD of my own or even play in front of people. I just wanted to play in a more contemporary way. So I began by signing up for a Flute camp.

Change is good.
The camp made me realize that I had A LOT to learn. Firstly, before the camp even began I was informed that I was not prepared to be a “real” shakuhachi player. I was told that I had the wrong sized flute. And that my flute was not tuned properly. In other words cheap. A decent student flute can run anywhere from a few hundred to just under 2 thousand Dollars –not yen. So I found an awesome flute on C’s list. It had all the upgrades, which are surprisingly technical for a bamboo flute.
When I arrived at the flute camp I was immersed in history, music, a varied group of students –and I was exposed to Japanese Kanji; shakuhachi notation. It looks like scribbling with a brush. But all went well and I learned to read the notation and began to make some interesting sounds. I feel as though I have improved greatly in the last several months since that camp. Improved, in that when I listen to the meditation CD’s I like, I can play along somewhat. But I can’t meditate, I have to think too much.

Back around.
So my desire to change made me act. My actions toward change changed me and the way I enjoyed my flute playing.
Since I was making all these “improvements” to my playing I felt like I needed to make a move to become much more connected to the art of the shakuhachi. So I have purchased a true Japanese antique, a 200+ year old shakuhachi. I had the flute cleaned and had some restoration done and when I played it … I realized it sounded just like my cheap flute. So the Komūso monks of Japan that wandered around in musical meditation, playing the shakuhachi for hours and days at a time used simple, unrefined, and loosely tuned flutes. All the contemporary shakuhachi music I hear on the meditation CD’s was first played hundreds of years ago on roughly made, cheap flutes by Komūso monks, guys who just wanted to play for meditation.
So I am, more educated, more diverse, poorer –and surely- impermanently changed.

Fading Footprints

I would like to open this blog with a description of things to come. "----------------". There you go. Since I am not prophetic or omnicient I have no idea of whats coming. I do however have tales to tell. Here are some.

When I was little I liked to imagine that I was a giant. My foot print in the sand would be like a canyon to the tiny people I imagined. AS I got older I learned to track animals by their tracks and likewise I learned to track other people by there’s.
So when we were playing in a rocky creek last year and my daughter asked me why I made such a big deal about footprints, I was surprised. I took a deep breath and rambled on for a few minutes. I propelled text from trackers manuals, and anecdotes from my past and tidbits about survival until her wandering eyes and tight grin made me pause. I just wanted to know why you like them, she said.
SO I thought about it for a minute and then said “Footprints show us where things were and what happened just a few minutes ago. That is pretty cool to me.”
So as we looked at the wet footprints on the rocks around us. We saw some wet and dripping, some partial, some overlapping, we sat silently for a few minutes. Then she said the most awesome thing. “When the footprints dry up, what we did will be hidden and no one will know what just happened but us.”
As we pass through life collecting stuff, selling stuff, tossing stuff out, It’s nice to think that in some way it’s Ok. That part of our life is over. Sure we can retrace our steps. But gone is gone. All we can hope to do is make more footprints and hope that when they fade we are better off than when we made them.

Impermanence.