Mindfulness Based Art an appreciative inquiry into expressive mind Margaret Jones Callahan
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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?
Picture

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.

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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.

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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.

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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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    The Expressive Mind Blog

    Margaret believes in the transformative power of Mindfulness Based Art. In 2011, she founded the MBAT Summer Institute to train clinicians and educators.


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