The Art of Meditation
I make art. I used to run marathons. I wash dishes, clean the house, fold clothes, and sometimes stare out the window.
As you’ve guessed, these are all forms of meditation. I’m there, but also not there. I’m in the moment, not thinking about the past or the future. Okay, maybe sometimes.
But I let it go, as I feel the fold of fabric, listen to the roar of the vacuum, stare at the blank canvas, or sit on the cushion.
I teach art. And I teach meditation. The two are both spiritual, contemplative, and usually singular. Both help me experience life carefully, as I look, listen and touch. Through meditation, I learn to deal with the day in a thoughtful way, noticing when someone is having a bad day, listening (really listening) to a friend, and inwardly, “feeling” a canvas fill with color, line and position, as I sit quietly in front of the easel.
In an art museum or gallery (yes, including Graffia Gallery!), I stare at the finished art, and reverse the feeling, letting it fill me with various emotions, and spreading out to give me a new outlook.
Whether in artwork, physical movement, or tasting food (still working on eating meditation), new experiences surprise and educate. And it all happens from just doing nothing but noticing.