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MindfulnessBased Art in Counselling: Winnipeg,Mb Apr.27-28 The Reflecting Pool: A Mindful Art Retreat Apr. 30, 2018

3/20/2018

Join Margaret in Winnipeg, Manitoba this spring, with Ground Up Professional Development Seminars, to explore mindfulness and the creative process.

Counsellors, mental health providers, and educators are invited to deepen your mindfulness practices in 2 days of skill development and conversation with colleagues. Margaret will present the stages of Mindfulness Based Art and the contemplative principles involved in practising these with clients.

Then on Apr.30 join Margaret for a day of mindful art practice, "The Reflecting Pool," in a retreat setting. We will contemplate together and express our contemplations in the art. No experience in art or mindfulness is necessary. Just bring your curiosity and a desire to play. contact Margaret at truepnt@yahoo.ca

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The Expressive Mind: MIEN DC 2018 conference

3/20/2018

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Thanks to everyone on the MIEN board and to all the staff and volunteers for a profound learning week-end. Congratulations and thank you to all the staff and teachers who are teaching our youth how to apply mindfulness in their lives, and how to listen to and express their own inner voice and wisdom in both peaceful and chaotic situations. We need you so much. Your work is profound. A big shout out to Dr. Michael Yellowbird for his presentation on the history of Native Americans in the USA. I am excited tohave the opportunity to see the Native American History museum tomorrow. And to all of you who attended my presentation, feel free to e-mail me for the slides. They will go up on the site in 6-8 weeks.

The Expressive Mind: Introduction to Mindfulness Based Art
Margaret Jones Callahan,

MIEN 11th Annual Conference, Mar16-17, 2018
Washington DC

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Fire Over Water "Within our Landscapes all life happens"

6/6/2017

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I am excited to be able to share some ideas that guided the creative process for my current work at the Opening Reception for my show " Fire Over Water" on June 10, 4 pm at St Margaret's Bay Shambhala Center in Upper Tantallon ,NS Canada. The exploration of right relationship between elements in nature is one of the guiding principles in my work as I explore the transitions in the world, and in my personal life. I've always been deeply tied to the land.Feelings for the landscapes I move through and live in are reflected in my work. The open space of the northern prairies and the big sky and water of Haida Gwai, Cape Breton, and St Margaret's bay inspire both the contemplative and expressive aspects of this work. Come join me when you are in the neighborhood at the show, or at my Windhorse Studio near Peggy's Cove.

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Light onWater

6/6/2017

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" Light on Water, a watercolour was recently donated to Help2Overcome to raise funds for bringing water to girls' schools in Sierra Leone. My community in St Margaret's Bay sponsors projects in Sierra leone regularly. The painting was inspired during a contemplative retreat at Gampo Abbey in Cape Breton, NS. which overlooks the Gulf of St Lawrence. The changing light patterns on the water reflect our changing inner weather.

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Transforming Grief: Part 6: Grief Begets Joy Dec. 29, 2016

1/20/2017

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The memory screen keeps releasing the past, and images surface from their buried depths. Sitting in mindful contemplation and considering my friend’s Alzheimer’s disease, I flash on those close to me who have died. And on the diseases, like cancer, that they suffered from. One grief evokes memories of others.
One thread of loss is my father who has been gone for almost 25 years. I feel his presence every day. His smile and his warmth are alive in me and bring me joy. When I look at the stars, I remember his description of his memory of the winter skies when he was three years old. The stars were close to the earth and very magical to him. In 1909 a young child reached up to the sky, thinking he was tall enough to touch them. His century old memory still echos through me.
I discover another thread of grief. I am still mourning the loss of my sister. I wasn’t finished my conversation with her. We had pulled away from each other before the end. We were both struggling and not really available to each other.
How do you have a conversation retroactively?

Winter winds blow through me to the core, erasing anger and fear, and opening an inner space. In daylight, the warmth of the sun softens the winter light. At night, the brilliance of the star field provokes wonder. In meditation, the deep quiet penetrates every pore. Diminishing anguish gives way to quiet joy like mists rising from the water. The subtle tones of winter soothe the aching heart and they caress me like a smile. Quiet green moss spreads on the rocks and hangs in the trees while a rich, deep gold grows on the dock. Even the rocks look new to me.
I have painted my sister before. This time, I try to hear her in my painting and to feel her love in my heart. I cry for our separateness and again for our deep connection. Laughter gurgles in the memory of her wild, dancing heart. We both have struggled in our relationships and with cancer. It is a family thing.
In part I wanted her to not be herself. I wanted her to be there for me, my way. She had mothered me when I was young and I held onto that. She resented it. In part, I want her to know how sorry I am that I was not at her bedside when she was dying. Our last conversation was on the phone.
Now retroactively, it is hard to find the right words. I stop and breathe while painting, connecting again to my mindfulness practice, and then I contemplate the rock I painted.
Looking, one sees the subtleties in the rock, and the colors shifting in the changing light. The hidden love is all around me.

Arising from the open-inner-heart-space, this image of sad joy…mixing love and grief in mindful self-compassion… is like the mother of all the Buddhas, called Prajnaparamita. “This basic ground is known in Buddhist literature as the mother principle. Prajnaparamita (the perfection of wisdom) and is called the mother-consort of all the Buddhas. The mother is always present, constantly giving birth.” My sister, my father, my friend continue to give birth to laughter, warmth, insight and beauty.
May you all find these in the new year.

(Excerpted from: “Femininity,” in The Collected Works of Chögyam Trungpa, Volume Six, page 563)

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Transforming Grief Part 5: The Power of Loss December 19, 2016

1/8/2017

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Sometimes personal grief collides with grief that is historical and social. All three, the personal, historical, and social, are intimately interwoven in this moment. Allowing the fullness and power of grief to be a moving force from within us can lead us to a sane expression of our pain. Sitting in mindfulness meditation with a focus on loving-kindness and on our open hearts is one way to make this kind of expression possible.
So I sit and practice compassion for everyone: starting with myself, my friends and family, and then the world…including the politicians, the hungry, the military, the sick, business people, spiritual practitioners, children, and the elders. Then anyone I have left out, including all those I might call enemies, and all sentient beings.

Compassion washes my eyes. It helps me stand in the shoes of the soldiers in Syria, the citizens trapped there…and the refugees who have escaped. It lets me feel my anger at death and relief that I didn’t die. It makes me want to help those who suffer and it exposes my fears. Simultaneously it can make us strong and vulnerable.

Our present reality calls out for our voices. Our grief can find it’s social expression of the truth in a mindful painting, a drawing, a sculpture, a poem, a community mural, or a song.                                                                             Here the social and the political are personal.

The tears are humanity’s ancient grief. They are my friend’s grief at losing her mind. They are my grief at her pain, her changes, and the loss of her presence in my daily life. They are my American friends' grief at the loss of their country. They are the country’s grief.
Like the sweeping power of a tsunami, the world is moved by the force of this energy. All of us feel the power of loss to change the order of reality. And we can all feel its’ ability to realign us with the stars. Now in these days of darkness, as the Solstice comes, where is the changing light?

In Leonard Cohen's words:
     "I see you have gone and changed your name again.
      Just when I've climbed this old mountainside
      To wash my eyelids in the rain...
       It's time we began,
       To laugh and cry and cry and laugh about it all again."

The love between us is my rock. It supports new life in all weather and through every type of storm. Love matches every pain with grace.

The fire dances over the water and it warms the earth.
It burns the past and liberates the future.
The rock rests in the water and on the earth.
Within its' stillness, it shows us the patterns of ancient hieroglyphs.
Our history and our life stories are written there.
We find the love in the ground we stand on.

After the tsunami of the election, I look for the rocks again.
Where is the earth that is trustworthy?
Where are my new loves?
What ground supports me to speak?

An aspiration: May this coming year bring fresh questions and fresh perceptions into all our lives. May we gather the power of our vulnerability and confidence into a song of the heart and sing and dance with each other. May we stand together in peace.

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Transforming Grief part 4: The Ground of Truth November 10, 2016

12/26/2016

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I’m sitting mindfulness meditation in the aftermath of the American election. The petals are still falling from, and into, my friend’s heart and I am in shock following an evening of watching the media coverage of the election. Stunned, and in tears, I listen to Lenard Cohen and his words echo in the silence.

   “ You know that I want to live with you,
   But you make me forget so very much.
   I forget to pray for the angels
   And then the angel forgets to pray for us.
   And now I need your hidden love…"

The power of the expressive mind is available in every moment. It was hard to hold my own inner process separate form the powerful social forces swirling around me. The US election was penetrating everyone’s life. Everyone had an opinion. Everyone had a hope and a fear. Some of us had a vision. Some of us were simply angry. Some of us felt dispossessed and cut off from the government. Some felt jubilant and vindicated. Many others felt their country had died. Distrust, fear, blame, shame, disgust, violence, terror and betrayal: so many powerful currents running at high velocity through our social world. The ground had radically changed.

Sometimes the heart overwhelms our words. Sometimes our body speaks for us. Sometimes it is the color that your hand reaches for that reveals the present moment of truth to you. This week I was feeling, honoring, and releasing, and using "the sanity we are born with" to find my ground, my courage and my voice.
I kept coming back to my personal context: my partner, my family, my friends, my home, my art, and looking for sanity. Looking for the hidden love.

In reality, the petals were falling from the flowers. The fall weather had cooled, and still I had not planted the fall bulbs. I could hardly put the garden to sleep for the winter. I could not bring myself to think ahead. I could not feel any possibility. I could not anticipate the colors of spring. The tulips my friend loves will not grow here. I need to find the hidden love.

My teacher, Chogyam Trungpa, taught us to look directly at what is, thereby reaching for inherent sanity, and releasing the power of compassion. Through our expressive minds, we can heal pain with love, and clarity, and the strength of our human hearts. And we keep on walking, and talking. I bought a huge bag of daffodils and contemplated planting them.

Then I came back to the rocks. Looking at these two rocks I see my friend and myself. I see the patterns of our lives. My friend was the rock in my life in times of crisis and I was the rock in hers. In the colors, the reds and greens, I see the richness that was. Most of all, I feel the earth. What ground do she and I share now? What earth are we standing on?
Where is America’s hidden love?
Where is America’s rock?
Contemplating this I watched the frost moon rise over Indian Harbour. The super-moon pulled the tides high on either side of our little island, and outlined the houses by the rocky shoreline. The brilliant softness illumines the homes. It directs my eyes to the waters.
May you all find the strength to seek the hidden love in your worlds and find a ground of truth which you can trust.

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Transforming Grief part 3: Grief, Good Grief November 3, 2016

12/8/2016

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I began this session by meditating, and then doing a contemplation on opening the heart. From a state of openness, and with a sense of appreciation and vulnerability, I trusted my hand to choose the colors and to make the marks on the page. Consciously releasing the urge to strategize or to analyze, I gave myself permission to just be with the breath and the flow of the brush. The painting “did itself “.

The reality of loss cuts through all. It exposes my face to the elements..softly soaking Vancouver rains and biting Atlantic winds co-mingle in my tears. Accepting the finality of the loss of my friend to Alzheimer’s is difficult. There will be no more heated discussions of women’s rights; no rants about the cultural genocide the Canadian Government perpetrated in First Nations communities; no soft arms holding me; no raucous laughter; no long walks along the headlands at Hornby; no canoeing; no nude swims at midnight; no one to remember me; no one to call me; no one to get me up for swimming at 6 am. Who will understand my broken-heartedness, my depression, my rage? The ground feels barren.

Facing love as it really is in this moment, so much is swept away, Sister friends are like no others.
I drop the flower and turn to the rocks for comfort. Holding their timeless beauty close, trying to discern another time, another past without a future. Feeling for their stability and grace.
May all of us find peace as we face ourselves. and connect to an inner light within the darkness of our days.

Peace until next week.

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Exploring Grief part 2: The Flow of Memory

11/29/2016

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The Flow of Memory

After sitting and practicing mindfulness, and focusing on simply resting with the breath, I contemplated the Screen Memory image from last week. My friend loved flowers, especially tulips in the spring…pinks, purples, blues and reds. Recalling favorite moments brings forward my warmth and caring for her.

She was the one who always had my back no matter what. For thirty years we have shared our heart secrets, worked out together, and played together. A week of theater and art galleries in London. Watching the Perseid showers on the gulf islands. Protesting and walking for peace. Planning and facilitating workshops for survivors, their families and professionals. Photographing each other. Trusting her with my son, and with my family. Dinners and holidays and endless cups of tea.

As As I choose colors and begin to paint, I realize again that she never got to retire in her own manner. She simply had to let go. I remember I nominated her for a woman of the year award. Now she can not remember her work at all. The loss I feel at losing the rich complexity of our friendship is but an echo of her losses. Her social activism has dropped away to reveal the underground stream of openness and warmth that fed her political vision and her belief. She seems to be gone, though her spirit is still alive. Poignant and penetrating, memories rise and fall during the art making. There is a physical release as I honor us, and an acknowledgement of the changes. Tears and gratitude co-mingle. The direct contact with the paints and paper moves me closer to sadness. While my friend is still alive, our mutual loss is deep. The confusion I feel when I am with her has melted. I know her and love her both for who she was and who she is now. The watercolors are both soft and nurturing, and they express the joy of being.
The exploration continues next week.

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Transforming Grief Part 1: Screen Memory

11/14/2016

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MBAT: Transforming Grief part 1: Screen Memory
First in a series of six posts exploring grief through Mindfulness Based Art

Chogyam Trungpa taught us to look directly at what is, to reach for our inherent sanity, thereby releasing the power of compassion through our expressive minds. We can heal pain with love, clarity, and the strength of our human hearts. And we can keep on walking and talking.

In the MBAT journey of transformation you apply your Mindfulness Art practices to any situation that confronts you. By intentionally carrying awareness into your creative expression you touch your heart and are able to connect with its strength, an ever present and deep power.

Many friends and family are facing illnesses that are debilitating and sometimes life-threatening. Grief and death have become more apparent in our daily worlds. Most of us know someone who is confronting cancer, Alzheimer’s, or a similarly challenging disease.
Sometimes these experiences are hard to put into words. Mindfulness Based Art provides a way to express and explore these difficult feelings. In Mindfulness experience, states of being arise that infuse freedom, joy or beauty into difficult, painful realities. MBAT may offer insights that surprise us.

For the next 6 weeks I will share with you a journey into the world of grief and beauty, sadness and joy, life and loss.

Our journey begins with a memory of a deeply loved friend. Her Alzheimer’s has constricted her social world and severely limited her relationships. Wheel chair bound, in a care facility in a large city, she is still able to recognize long-time friends and her close family. On a good day, being in her presence is like being flooded with sunshine. She is warm, loving, and socially gracious. She will laugh at your jokes. The staff love her. Her powerful heart essence cuts through medications and penetrates the hearts of those who sit with her.

Having been deeply touched and feeling the rawness of my open heart, I painted SCREEN MEMORY after one such visit. The painting expresses a memory of being with her in an earlier time when she could hike, discuss, dance and teach.

It is a screen that covers and links to a chain of memories, all of which touch the love being expressed and touch my missing of the friendship as it was. The beauty and fun and tenderness of the friendship are here.

Next week we'll look at what lies beneath the screen

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<<Previous

MindfulnessBased Art in Counselling: Winnipeg,Mb Apr.27-28 The Reflecting Pool: A Mindful Art Retreat Apr. 30, 2018

The Expressive Mind: MIEN DC 2018 conference

Fire Over Water "Within our Landscapes all life happens"

Light onWater

Transforming Grief: Part 6: Grief Begets Joy Dec. 29, 2016

Transforming Grief Part 5: The Power of Loss December 19, 2016

Transforming Grief part 4: The Ground of Truth November 10, 2016

Transforming Grief part 3: Grief, Good Grief November 3, 2016

Exploring Grief part 2: The Flow of Memory

Transforming Grief Part 1: Screen Memory

The Expressive Mind Blog

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