Category Archives: Personal Growth

“It Moved Me” – Emotions and Art

Emotions and art are deeply connected

It is probably safe to say that emotions and art have been connected since the very beginning. I doubt the cave paintings at Lascaux  were made or viewed without any reactions by their creators or other community members. Whether they were created as mythic storytelling, depictions of particular hunts, or something completely different, we can imagine that, like us, the early artists and viewers felt something while looking at them. Perhaps they felt emotions of fear, or pride in the hunt, desire for status, or appreciation and gratitude for bounty. So what’s with the connection between emotions and art and the idea of movement?

What’s moving, emotions or me?

What do we mean when we say something “moved” us? We use the expression about emotions and art all the time… a piece of music or a poem is moving; a film moved us, sometimes “to tears.” But I’ve been musing about a couple of different ways to look at this idea of movement.  What is moving, precisely?

When I read a particularly poignant book, for example Love You Forever by Robert Munsch.  I, like the author himself, immediately choke up with  emotions of sadness and an almost indefinable ache – it feels a bit like longing – even though I have not yet lost either a child nor a parent. It “moves” me to a place of being able to feel what the author felt. The movement for me is from my

status quo, whatever it was before I picked up the book, into a new emotional state, a new place to experience life from, one I haven’t known before.

Or how about this? When I read that book (or my other favourite for accessing the bittersweetness of life, Peach and Blue  I can think of it another way. Through their love story I’ve opened the door to allowing an emotion to move through me. I am still who and where and how I am, but I’m letting the feeling enter, and I can let the feeling leave.

So what’s the difference?

Well, aside from giving me the chance to look at those two moving books again (and I could add a zillion other books, works of art, movies, etc. for any emotion you care to name, but then we’d be here all day and the dog wouldn’t get walked!) …

I don’t think one way of experiencing emotions and art is better than the other, but I do see them differently. When I’m the one being moved, for me it’s like I’ve been transported into a role. I feel something from the inside out, and I’m inhabiting that state of mind and heart. It puts me in touch with emotions I might never have known before. Or, even if I have, I’m feeling them from another perspective. When I use art to experience emotions in this way, I think I can say I’m learning a lot about empathy.

When the emotions have been moved through me it feels different. I remain in a bigger sense, more rooted in my own experience. Sometimes it’s because the feelings are ones that I’ve had before, and what moved them into/through me is a reminder of them. But not always. It’s more likely to happen when I’m in a grounded place, or you might even say in a more mindful place, where I’m practicing the habit of witness consciousness and recognizing that while I may have emotions, I don’t have to be identified with them. It’s the difference between believing “I am so angry,” and “I feel anger within me in this moment.”

Letting emotions move on through

Have you ever noticed how kids seem to be able to allow emotions to move on through them? The temper tantrum might be an almighty storm, rocking them right onto the floor with kicking feet and screaming lungs, but when it’s over it’s over. They’re already asking “what’s for supper?” while Mom is holding her heart, still breathing fast, and wondering if anyone would notice if she just walled herself and the family up until the child turns 21. It’s not so much that kids have anything like a “witness consciousness” going on – I don’t think most do. But they do seem to have some ability that we gradually lose as we grow older. Teens and adults hang on to emotions, to pull them out of our pockets to savour later, or to think them over for a good long time in the hope that they will reveal to us the secret of never having to feel that way again.

Choices

Like I said, I don’t think there’s one right way to experience emotions through art. But knowing that there’s not just one gives us some choices. Maybe you find it healing to watch a sad movie that you know you cry at every time. This can be really helpful especially if we actually feel like an emotion is stuck within us. Allowing the art to stimulate the sadness that is already within us, perhaps unexpressed or keeping us feeling tight, can let the sadness move through us more completely.

Or perhaps I might feel immobilised myself – like I am in a rut or habit of a way of feeling or perceiving my situation. Most especially when I’m feeling flat, this is when I find a trip to an art gallery really helpful. I can stand in front of many different pictures, one after the other, and allow myself to be moved into different states with each one. I can “try on different hats” in a way. What did the painter feel while he was making this one? What led that sculptor to create her piece out of that material? Those aren’t just thinking questions, but feeling ones as well. I can notice what my body and heart do in response to the art, and allow myself to get carried along into a new experience. I can then ask, what do I want to do, now that I can see things this way? It’s a way to create action in my life.

So – what moves you? What is moved within you? Share your thoughts on my Facebook page

And if you’re yearning for movement, wanting to make sure that you make the most of your life so that you can stop waiting for “someday” and start creating a fulfilling NOW, contact me for a free consultation. 

 

Listening to nature; Listening to myself

Moving through nature, transitioning with nature

As some of you know, I make an effort to go on some kind of retreat annually. My preference is for that to include at least some time when I can be alone with myself, out in nature, in addition to time for intensive learning. This year (and last year too, actually) I found myself in Central Oregon, in the “high desert” region near Bend. I drove down there this time, and the experience of moving through several different types of forest, of climate, and geology was profound, especially during fall – itself a transitional season, moving from the light and warmth of summer to the cold and dark of winter.

From darkness into light…

I navigated Highway 101 from Port Angeles down to Olympia, Washington in the dark and nearly in the rain. My shoulders stood perpetually on guard, around the altitude of my ears, and I questioned my judgement many times as I squinted against the bright lights of oncoming cars and the constant, unfamiliar curves in the road. On the other hand, at that hour there was little traffic behind me wanting to go faster than I was comfortable with – a small but important blessing!

After a short and poor sleep at a cheap and noisy motel, and a lot of urban sprawl past Portland, my mood matched the sky as I finally entered the Mount Hood National Forest in Oregon. It was grey with rain-heavy clouds, and the scent of smoke from wildfires was strong. I knew the mountain was there – in fact the map told me I was driving right on the southern slope of it – but my senses didn’t reflect that reality at all. Where was the nature I was so desperately seeking? Where was the view I expected? Was I stuck with a narrow view of dripping aspens (still green, no interesting fall colour yet) and mind-numbing asphalt? Where were the poetic vistas I remembered from my last trip this way?

How many times do we not see the change until it’s already happened?

Suddenly, Highway 26 dropped out of the clouds and I found myself driving along widening canyons more tan and red than green and wet. The sky seemed to lift up and it was as if the rainy morning had never been. The road was the same, the curves were as scary, and yet … now it felt like the road would get me somewhere, the curves revealed a new potential photograph every second. And there were my beloved rock formations, undulating along the roadside where only seconds earlier I had seen nothing worth noting.

It prompted me to wonder, “What changes might be happening underneath the surface, underneath my current mood or mindstate? What is acting as cloud-cover in my life right now?” Luckily for me, the very next day I got to take these questions into my Anamcara training community* and the three-day study retreat that brought me to Oregon. It’s so valuable to me to have a place (and people) who can help me to ask this kind of question in a spirit of mindful curiosity rather than judgement. It’s good to be accompanied and held while we look into the depths.

The metaphor of landscape – nature as mirror

It’s useful to ask myself sometimes, “What’s my inner landscape like today?” I can ask this question from the comfort of my desk or my bed. Sometimes the picture is dramatic: cliffs and canyons, or wild rivers. Sometimes it’s a more placid or domestic scene with meadow or lawn.

When I travel into a specific landscape, like the uniqueness of the high desert, I like to turn the question around a little. “How am I like this landscape? Where is my life dry? What is hardy or tough in me, growing despite the climate, like these junipers? Where am I like the Ponderosa pines, who thrive after forest fires? What makes up my layers, like these layers of rock that have weathered and become exposed over time? Where am I surprised by nourishment, like I was by that river at the bottom of a dry canyon?”

My hope is that these questions will bear fruit in both my work and home life. I would like to reflect some of the peace, strength, and power that I find in the desert. I would like to recognize and nurture the vulnerability in myself and others that is reflected in a landscape where it can take one hundred years to grow a layer of lichen, and where the layers built up over aeons can be suddenly upended by an earthquake, and then eroded again over more aeons back into sand.

 If you feel drawn to working on some of these deeper questions yourself, in an atmosphere of acceptance and creative exploration, I’d like to invite you to contact me for a conversation. You can contact me by e-mail here: openhearthstudio.com  or phone me at 250-595-0405. I am pleased to support people in person at my studio in Victoria BC, Canada, as well as by video conference call for those who live elsewhere.

*The Anamcara Project is a program of The Sacred Art of Living Center in Bend, Oregon. I am in my second year of apprenticeship.  https://sacredartofliving.org/

Inner Peacemaking and the Work of Reconciliation

Reconciliation between nations, peoples, and individuals

is something I am deeply concerned about, but often feel quite powerless about. I was invited this past weekend to present an arts based workshop on the topic of reconciliation. Before I said “yes,” I really wondered what I could possibly do or say in a mere sixty minutes that would make any difference at all. After I said “yes,” I was even more doubtful! In the end, and following the traditional advice to writers, I could only present what I know. What I know is not very much, and pretty narrow in scope, and yet it seems to me that it’s important to start with where I am – only from there can I start the bigger process of learning more and participating in more effective action.

Reconciliation work can begin within the individual.

My usual work involves helping people who are grieving a loss or navigating a major life transition. Reconciliation comes into this work as well, on a smaller scale perhaps. Sometimes it’s between people, but more often I’m working with reconciliation between the parts of a person that are somehow at odds with each other.

 We can experience conflict between new and old ways of seeing ourselves or the world when we go through a trauma or loss. We may feel torn between two (or more) parts of ourselves that want different things as we grow and change. For some people, loss is all about the inner conflict between a side that feels immobile with despair, and one that yearns and seeks for new hope. There may be warring emotions such as anger and guilt or resentment and love. Sweet memories may struggle to emerge next to regretful ones.

These are all pieces of ourselves that in our normal day-to-day lives are easy to ignore or even to truly be at peace with. In times of stress, trauma, or grief the fractures within us become visible and sometimes unbearably painful.

At the workshop, I invited participants to do some brainstorming.

  • What parts of yourself are you MOST comfortable with? What character traits? What emotions?
  • What parts of yourself do you feel most in CONFLICT with?
  • What do you tend to DO to those parts that you find least acceptable or comfortable?

The answers at the workshop were probably similar to some of the ones you’ve come up with yourself. We tend to be comfortable with traits like kindness, creativity, politeness: those things that we get praised for out in the world. Parts like shame, like anger, some things like introversion or assertiveness, tended to be ones that were less universally welcomed.

Love your neighbour as yourself… but what if you don’t love yourself?

I found it interesting that what people (me included) do to those parts of themselves they don’t accept, mirrors pretty accurately what we do to other people we don’t accept. We call ourselves names (“I’m so stupid!” “That would be selfish!”) We silence parts of ourselves – allowing only the “nice” emotions out, while the sadness or the anger are left behind, unexpressed.

 The last question I asked the workshop participants was, “Does this affect your relationships or anything else in your life? How?” Most participants agreed that ignoring, silencing, mocking, or hating parts of themselves didn’t work. At best it created havoc in their own hearts, and at worst it resulted in disastrous interpersonal dynamics.

Creative inner reconciliation: Self-portraits from found objects

Presumably, since you’re reading a blog on an art therapist’s website, you’ve experienced, or are at least willing to play with the notion of creativity as a means of self-expression and self-exploration! Here’s what I asked my workshop participants to do, and I invite you to try too.

I offered them a large and diverse collection of stuff – all kinds of stuff – from sticks, stones, feathers, and shells, to bottle caps, ribbons, beads, and burnt matches. Everything from the precious to the discarded and broken. You can collect such things on a walk outside, from your junk drawer, the recycling bin, from your box of broken jewelry you haven’t got around to fixing.

  • Look over the materials, and choose some. Choose a bunch of things that have some emotional charge for you, negative and positive – both the things you like or are attracted to, and the things that you really don’t.
  • After you bring them back to your workspace, arrange them to create a face – a self-portrait – as abstract or realistic as you like. You can glue them down onto a piece of cardboard, or simply take a photo of your creation and put the materials back.
  • Don’t try to plan ahead while you’re picking your materials. Trust that you’ll be able to make a picture out of what you choose. Let it be as intuitive as possible.
  • Try to bring an attitude of friendly curiosity to your selections and your arrangement – it’s not about making Big “A” Art, it’s about engaging your heart and mind and hands in the process!

After you’ve made your self-portrait, here are some questions that can be helpful in working toward some inner reconciliation:

  • What parts of myself have I allowed into this portrait?
  • Are any parts missing?
  • Does this portrait show me anything new about myself?
  • How can I love this person that I made here?
    • …when I see her or him in the mirror?
    • …when I see him or her out in the world?
  • What does this person need? What do these various parts need?

 There aren’t any perfect answers to these questions. And reconciliation, on the world stage and in our own hearts, is an ongoing, ever changing and evolving process. If you try this exercise, I’d love to hear about how it went for you! You can post pictures on the Open Hearth Studio Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/openhearthstudio/