Crouching Lizard, Hiding Ox

Crouching at a run I clamor across the studio at an undignified tilt in pursuit of a skittering lizard barely the length of my thumb. He has been in the studio for several days giving me the slip whenever I attempt capture.

I then remembered how my brother Michael could catch anything-frog, beetle, horny toad, snake, even flies by pouncing on them immediately, never giving his prey a chance to feel pursued.

That brown prickly lizard is suddenly in my hand. 

Michael’s eye was as quick as his hand. Big gentle hands that could miraculously twist tiny wires on an earring in the bat of an eye. Michael knew the combination of ferocious pursuit with gentle capture.

The Lizard is out, then in again. In the cage of my hand I feel the little guy’s rough hide on my skin trying every crack of light for exit.

I can’t let this lizard live here in my studio. Beside the question of enough to eat and drink, I almost set a bucket of gesso on him. No, he needs to be outside with all the other little guys darting through the potted plants. But when I take him outside into the sun, he won’t leave my hand. He starts up my arm into the sleeve of my paint shirt reminding me of the time I watched a bee crawl all over my brightly painted toenails, testing my resolution when he started backing into the space between my toes before he finally flew off. This time there is much less peril. We play the hand is faster than the eye trick to keep him out in the open, but he is not willing to return to civilian life. He sits for a long time listening, in lizard time. Then suddenly he is gone. I am left with the image of the last of the Ten Ox Herding Pictures-an empty circle.

I realize how connected the paintings­­ are to the trays I have been working with for the last few weeks-the Artifacts of Direction Realization. The 10 Ox Herding Pictures are intimately connected to these Five Trays I have assembled. They are visual instructions for realization. The Ox, as the mind, is the metaphor of taming that stubborn, earthy, limiting animal of our being stuck in the illusion of separation.

This time, who knows why, I am changed by the encounter with the lizard. Like the tracks of the Ox that invite pursuit, if the call is not answered the tracks get cold and are lost. The Artifacts of Direction Realization are the marks, tracings, inklings of what is possible.

In the first frame of the Pictures the Ox Herder begins the adventure by calling forth the Ox. For me this step comes before collecting my pieces and sorting through the collections of other people’s artifacts.  It is realizing that moments of lucidity exist. In the next frame, evidence of the Ox appears. Be it Alice’s rabbit, my brother’s creepy crawlies or my lizard we make room with inquiry for the journey to begin.

The third picture depiction suggests engagement---be it with frog, crow, dragonfly, lizard or inanimate objects like a doorknob, a trinket, a missing object—activating our illusion of separation to move the adventure along. When the Ox appears, it is usually the back end. The determined, grab the tail, messy end of the mind. From there we often find our self suddenly in the heart of a rodeo that can last a long time, even a lifetime.

That approach does not work to bring realization; brute force does not beguile the mind. The transformation comes when the struggle is released-in the Ox Herding Picture or through the arts. Sitting atop the ox, the herder plays the flute and creates another relationship to the Ox/Mind.  The herder returns not in dominance but union. The last picture depicts no ox, no ox herder, no flute, some would say it is the return to original nothingness.

We did not get an owner’s manual on entry into this world. Whether the Ox Herding Picture Instructions have caught up with us or not we have all been graced with moments of realization that suggest a state, a way of being in the world that differs from how we usually do life. I look at this as our birthright and evolutionary imperative.  It has led me to begin a collection of artifacts from all over the world, from other times and cultures which represent these universal events.

I put together five trays of artifacts, some donated from other’s collections. Three of these trays are now been exhibited at the 12 X 12 Show at Cabrillo Gallery until mid-December 2016. This is the statement for the trays:

In Artifacts of Direct Realization, each of the component artifacts represents its own unique experience, as well as a stratigraphic and archaeological relationship to the others. Each also represents a partial, momentary, lasting or recurring historical experience, an awakening of consciousness. The ‘artisans’ ranged from three to ninety-five years old, and their products spread over five continents. All of them have contributed to the trajectory of our collective evolution. These articles

have been drawn from private collections and carry the imprint of their makers, as well as the aesthetic principles and values of their cultures and historical epochs.  What these artifacts share with each other they also share with us, a common human purpose on a shared planet.

Some of these articles you might recognize. They may even come from your life, traces of the evolutionary edge. We are not trained to search for the Ox, and yet we come across it throughout our lives. Those of us with a propensity for the arts, might step into the instructional diagrams daily. The artifacts are subtle but vital punctuations of everything that you have perceived up until now. Without a context or witness they slips away. I encourage you to start your collection; I think that our planet is dying for it.                  Majio  

Cajones d'Oro

Screen: Monks Bowing

In the mountainous Korean Buddhist monastery, Song Kwang Sa, the older monks spoke fluent Japanese, but reluctantly. It had been the language of occupation in their youth. It, however, was a blessing for the two of us who spoke Japanese as we could talk directly to KuSan Sunim Roshi during the three month winter retreat. After living in Zen temples in Japan for several years I was surprised by the dedication and purity of the monks and nuns of South Korea. Very different from Japan, Korea is considered a Christian country, the Buddhist practioners are in a minority but they embrace deeply the path of enlightenment.

We were a motely crew of five women in the hermitage across the river from the monastery. There was a French and Scottish woman, both ordained Buddhist nuns in different countries, now living in Korea, a young Swedish woman traveling from Japan, myself and another American from a privileged political family with feminist leanings. Ch’an Buddhism of the mainland is the root of Japanese Zen before it divided in Soto and Rinzai. Our Roshi, KuSan Sunim instructed us, however, to do nothing, but sit. We asked if there was any expediency that could support meditation. Only one! he responded, and that is to imagine that Death in standing behind you with his hand on your shoulder.

Screen: Sitting on a stupa disrespectfully

I was recently reminded of the Korean retreat when I saw the old cowboy movie, Hombre with Paul Newman, 1967. The movie opens with Newman, who had been captured as a child by the Apaches, patiently watching a herd of wild horses that he is luring to a water hole for capture. The Mexican outlaw, who addresses Newman as Hombre at the end of the movie takes his last breath to ask Hombre’s name. Called hombre—man, he goes unnamed by most of the immediate characters in the story. Nameless, our hero bridges the duality between the everyday world and beyond. It is interesting to note that training a horse is often used in Buddhist metaphor as the discipline is takes to give the wild ego an opportunity for a powerful partnership with Self. Hombre, the nameless one is the guide had leads the rest through the liminal, the space between worlds. We can only ponder how each one is radically changed by their experience with this figure.

In the Wild West and in Buddhist practice it takes willingness to walk the edge between worlds as a path of realization. Yes, physically our man---hombre has the kind of gumption, symbolizing the warrior spirit, but also it crosses gender.  Besides the bullying bad guys, the only other person who shows any grit is a female character, who ultimately catalyzes the climaxing action. When she asks Hombre why everyone is following someone they don’t trust? He answers, “Because I can cut it.” The group sees in him what they don’t want see in themselves. He is their shadow aspect. But he is the only one capable using the hand of Death on his shoulder to give him clarity of vision.

The monks in the winter retreat explore awareness of the hand of Death by choosing difficult conditions, freezing weather in paper and mud housing, sitting  fourteen hours a day, with a bucket of hot water on bath day. There was an urgency in their practice. It is not part of the equation when life is easy. The Tibetan Buddhist, say that we need to practice our final dying everyday. Every activity in life offers that opportunity, especially art making. I know in the studio when I am back-peddling and when I am on my game.  I think we all do.

Screen; Tango Dance
 Buddha &  Kuan Yin

At Song Kang Sa after a dharma lecture one day, the other American in our group asked the Roshi in Japanese what the difference was between men and women in practice. His immediate answer was, “ Gintama!” followed by a gale of laughter. We had never heard the expression, but our experienced Swedish friend, even with her limited Japanese translated it promptly into English, “Golden Balls,” slang for testicles. So there you have it, across all time, culture and gender, there is only one thing that puts you into the game, male or female…cajones, except in the true paradox of Zen Koans, they are also a metaphor of the most fragile and vulnerable part of the body.

ART, STORY OF TRANSFORMATION

Playing with Holes

 Art has the ability to bring order out of chaos… to both involve us more deeply in life, and yet at the same time, give us objective distance so we can see our world with greater perspective…Art can also deal with the great mysteries of life…reflect the quality of the unexplainable and the paradoxical. Art can explore both the human longing to connect with the broader Universe, and the profound limitation we have that denies the fulfillment of this longing.

These are the words of Robert Fritz, musician, composer, and filmmaker who applies the principles of creating in everyday life through his concept of structural tension in the book, Your Life As Art. He talks about creative process as accessible to all of us. This is a revolutionary step in the old story of the artist. Like Fritz, more and more people are finding innovative ways of expanding the experience of consensus reality. Dr. Carl Greer, in his book Change Your Story, Change Your Life, uses shamanic and Jungian tools to explore our life stories in order to make more conscious choices of the stories that guide our values and decisions.

Stories are the source of how we understand life around us, framing information of the past while giving us tools to create the future. Ever powerful, our stories have the potential to liberate us or encage us. Through the structure of our inherited stories our societies dictate fundamental concepts of how we perceive and think about life. In these times it is obvious how the collective stories have become unsustainable. One such prevalent story is the quest for power resulting in the exploitation of other life forms, including nature.

Playing with Surf

Artists in all discipline have historically been at the forefront of creating new perspectives and relationships to how we see the world. Artists aid the collective in transcending old perceptions by illuminating our stories and assisting in their evolution. It is questionable that the avant-garde of Post-modern art functions to this end due to the influence of marketing and investment.

As we unwittingly perpetuate old illusions in society, we are also unaware of the underlying stories we impose on ourselves. The old mythology of the artist as gifted beyond the norm, eccentric, and prone to addictions and excesses is not true, nor does it support the creative process available to us all. With life experience, exposure to other cultures, inquiry and reflection our stories can transform. As Dr. Greer suggests we need to know our stories. Begin by writing them out, listen to the stories that we invariably repeat and to notice the stories that touch us deeply, in aversion or attraction. To create something different we need to enliven the desires and dreams that have been set aside. It takes a tremendous amount of courage to dream beyond the marker measured by profit, power or fame around us.

Playing with Arms

We need to know our own cosmology in order to create the life we want to live. The arts are a way not only to discover and recognize the myths we live by but also a way to integrate past experience to move on to new ways of being in the world. Like nighttime dreams, images of the psyche emerge through the mind/body with the materials and tools of the arts. Being an artist is an intention, a way of perceiving and living rather than a quality judged by the outside world. We are talking about creating stories, which apply the creative process to living. This is what occurs in Transformational Painting at Anavami Studio.

                                                                                                              Majio