Love Made Manifest

I signed up for an Oriental Painting class not because I expected to become an expert, but rather as a way to expand my consciousness through a new discipline.

If I closed my eyes and listened to the instruction as we prepared to apply ink to brush to paper, it was like being in a T’ai Chi Chih class while the teacher introduced us to the rudimentary steps.

“Get your mind in tune to what you are about to do as you get your materials ready. Grind your ink deliberately with round strokes. Hold the ink stick erect so that it does not develop a slant.” — I grind and I grind only to be aware that the ink is not dark enough, so I grind and grind some more.

“Posture – posture is everything! Sit up straight, find your center of balance in relation to the table and your paper. How are you holding the brush? Where is your arm? Where is your elbow? Relax your shoulders. Where is your focus? Relax.” My brush touches the paper but the firm gentle strokes elude me, even with all my attention to perfect preparation.

“Practice – practice – practice. Stay focused or it becomes a careless movement.” Page after page, I try to be one with the brush, but I know that is not the way – we have to Be ONE.

I listen to her stories about her master teacher, a vital 95 year old who still goes out for walks by herself. She tells of when she first met her teacher and was told to sit and watch. She sat and watched, and watched, and watched. Eventually, she was allowed to grind ink and for a time that is all she was allowed to do. She laughs as she recalls all the times her master teacher made her cry, and how she entertained the thoughts that she certainly didn’t need this in her life and maybe she would go study computers because certainly they wouldn’t make her cry. But she knew it was not computers that would feed her soul.

She talked of the gratitude for the discipline her teacher expected from her because she had been so unfocused. She was grateful that her teacher was willing to take her on, to guide her through that stage of development.

I hear her say to a student, “Keep your elbow up, it will free your arm,” and the student replies, “But I like it better with my elbow down, and my brush slanted is easier for me to hold.” The teacher gently says, “It will not give you the results you want.” Somewhere near the end of the class the student says, “You are right, it is much better the way you said.” The teacher just smiles.

The teacher shares that one of the biggest challenges with students is arrogance. They come to class, learn the basic strokes, and want to impose their own style. They are not willing to develop the discipline necessary to perfect the strokes, and let an individual style gently emerge in time.

Several pieces of art were displayed on the wall, and the teacher pointed out, the strong effective strokes and the weak ineffectual ones too. (And I thought to myself, the artist probably thought they were being so individualistic by doing it that way.) To my untrained eye, all the pieces appeared pleasant, yet to the master’s eye, the strong and the weak strokes affirmed the artist’s level of development. Like a musician listening to a score, the teacher’s eyes flowed over each piece with complete awareness of the subtle nuances of each stroke. Would the artists have been proud or embarrassed to have laid themselves bare for the master to see that they had done their work with quiet, gentle boldness or arrogant carelessness?

practice sincerely and nonhabitually