Loneliness and Creativity

Observation on a Buddha Rock

I know loneliness
a rock separated from a streambed
My particular glamour
is less appealing here
Like this displaced rock
am I commonplace
or too old

This rock
a misshapen Buddha
solitary Bodhisattva
witnessing the cleaving
remembering the whole

What dissension shattered humankind
into separation
Lonely and separate as this scarred rock
perhaps once praised for its cool detachment.
Who cares to take the time
to decipher the untold encrypted story

A star has fallen
to the bottom of the sea
fossilized
while a starfish rises
in the darkening sky
experiencing
alternate realities

God is in us–
is all right with the world
Has the solitary rock learned compassion
Is that the panacea for loneliness

by Christine O’Brien

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In her book, Freeing the Creative Spirit, Adriana Diaz guides the artist/reader/ creative explorer, into many exercises that enable creativity. The subtitle of her book is: “Drawing on the Power of Art to Tap The Magic And Wisdom Within.” One of these exercises invites the reader to find a rock. And then, to sit with the rock, examining its many surfaces. To see the rock as a living being and to become in some way intimate to its experience. To draw it from its various angles and perhaps to write about it as I’ve done in the poem above.

We seldom do this, stop and be present with an inanimate object. Who has the time? I certainly didn’t when I had a bustling household with children, husband and pets, a part or full-time job, extended family. I wonder though, if I had taken the time, even once-a-week, if I wouldn’t have been more present, more grounded and more available to myself and others if I had paused to deepen a connection to myself and to something in nature.

I titled this blog Loneliness and Creativity because when I feel lonely and venture into the creative space, loneliness disappears. In the naming and writing of this poem, the feeling of loneliness dissolved into “art.” Have you experienced that? It’s almost magical, in fact it is magic. It’s an alchemical experience. The base ingredients of one’s loneliness, feelings of isolation or separation blend with the pen, the paper, the paint, the brush, the clay, the camera–whatever the medium that you are using–and are changed into something higher and lighter.

I’ve experienced this more than once. And I know that I’m not the only one. When Covid hit the headlines in 2020 and we were told to isolate, I began to post photos on my Facebook page of the beauty that surrounds me living here in the mountains. Those of us who live here see it daily. However, I have family and friends who don’t live here and since I believe that beauty lifts the spirits, I made a commitment to do this. In this way, I connected with others indirectly. And, I also allowed myself to be the witness with the camera who recorded this beauty. And this beauty was a salve for me too.

All of this to say, we each have creative resources. Regardless of what any former teacher or person of influence in your life might have once told you, we are all artists and our unique way of expression has value for oneself and others.

“…The Courage to Start All Over Again”

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For the past two weeks, I’ve been tackling a lifetime of family photos. There are picture puddles all over my living room floor and stacks on and around my dining room table. There are albums that I’ve started and others that are yet to be decided upon. This is truly an intense immersion and not for the faint of heart. It invokes time travel and then grounding back into present time.

These photos commemorate a thirty-year marriage that finally ended in a divorce. They take me through all the stages of my two daughters’ growth–the birthdays, holidays, graduations, sports, scouts, family gatherings, siblings, the feasts I prepared…and then, the remembrance of the dearly beloved departures. These moments in time preserved in photos. And when I see them, I remember the stories that surrounded them. The mother-in-law who held tightly onto her son, my husband and her jealousy that seeped into our relationship. The father-in-law who always had to assert his macho superiority. The ex-husband who danced between his anger and sentimentality. The adorable daughters discovering themselves and the world. My dear siblings, there were nine of us, and our highly dysfunctional parents. And photos of me, young, pretty, naïve , trying to find my way through the chaos of the past and the then present.

There are times that I’m judgmental of myself–were there things that I could have done differently? Were there choices I could have made that would have improved the quality of my life and those closest to me? Yes, there are some regrets. But didn’t I do the best that I could with what I knew? I see how I can fall headfirst into that Pandora’s box of photos and spiral down with that undertow of regret. And then, don’t forget the generational trauma that has been added to the mix. Truly, there’s always that which is bigger than the small picture frame through which I’m viewing my life. There’s always a vaster landscape. I’m not alone on this wild journey. We all have our boxes and albums of family photos, and today there are the digital ones.

It seems like human frailty, vulnerability, happenstance and more are part of the whole. They are right beside courage, victory, endurance, determination, love. In life we co-exist with everything both inside of us and outside of us. There’s so much we don’t know about the soul’s journey. So much.

Recently, I listened to an interview with a young woman who had lots of struggles in her early life. She had been full of self-blame and there was early trauma involved. It touched me when I heard her say that she had cultivated a way of sending a beam of love to those hurting places within herself. Beaming love to those memories, losses and old trauma. I think that’s a good practice.

With all of that said and all that goes unsaid, I turn to the words of F. Scott Fitzgerald.
“I hope you live a life you’re proud of, and if you’re not, I hope you have the courage to start all over again.” And I want to add, bring reverence to your whole experience, make it sacred.

The Moon

Being a woman who seeks or quests, I wonder about many things as I go through this life. This year, I’m following a process with the moon. The Moon is My Calendar with April McMurtry is a study of the monthly journey of the moon across the sky and the influence it has on one’s life. It emphasizes a woman’s cycles as she embraces the cycles of the moon. Throughout history, humans have invented various calendars. The moon as a calendar was used long before the Gregorian calendar, a solar calendar system. I am not going to chart the history of the various calendars that societies have created. What I am wondering about is my own relationship with the moon.

I remember, years ago, looking at the moon on one of those rare clear evenings in San Francisco. I was missing my sister who had moved to Hawaii. I remember thinking that “we all share the same moon.” With that realization, I felt a connection to her through seeing the same moon.

In 1995, I had a some big challenges and a moon fascination it seems. In recounting a journal passage:

If the moon could talk to me, what would she say?
“I love you” would be her first words. ” My wisdom is your wisdom. I dwell within you as the light even in the midst of the dark. I will never fail you. No need to fear. I am constant as the sea. We work together harmoniously. There is a good and true purpose for you, for me. I am a reminder that all is right. Don’t look at the smallness; see the vastness, the bigger picture–it’s all around you and within. Within of itself is too narrow–consider the whole, be inclusive. Cultivate an awareness of me–study me; work with me; play with me. Then observe us together as a team. Let me be your light through all of the dark nights. Remember even when brother sun shines, I’m with you. Even then. Rest now.

1995 Journal

I must have needed her, the qualities of the moon then. Her mystery, her darkness and her illumination. Her retreat and her full expression. I must need her again today. The dreamy state that she creates as she journeys through her cycles. And yet, the grounded quality as I unite with her in her waxing and waning. In our culture, we are steeped in artificial stimulus–bright lights, big cities, eternal television and media influences. There is the consumer mindset–I need more to be happy. The moon helps one to see what is necessary in the present time. She returns us to the cycles of initiation, gestation, fruition; finally, retreat and diminishment. Then we begin again and with each new cycle there is the opportunity to deepen our connections to ourselves and all that is.

As I write this blog, the moon is a waxing quarter moon in the sign of Taurus. As the door opens wider for creativity, we find that the moon is exalted in Taurus. “Astrologers describe the Moon as “exalted” in Taurus, which means the qualities of fecundity, nurturing, sustenance and fertility are most easily expressed.” In my life, I see fecundity as many new ideas coming my way…and the ability to nurture some of them into being while caring for myself. Isn’t that most important for any one of us? We care deeply for ourselves so that we can birth, sustain and share our gifts as we move more fully into the wholeness of our being.

Moon blessings to you.