It’s Saturday morning. I drink my second cup of coffee, chew walnuts and let chocolate chips dissolve on my tongue – a treat for my mindfulness practice. I'm not very good at this mindfulness thing. I've been practicing forever but it usually only lasts a few seconds. Still I try.
Sip the coffee. Chew a small piece of nut. Notice the dry papery bit. Savor the taste. Pop a chocolate chip in my mouth and chew. Oops! Missed that time!
I try again, focusing my attention on sensations. Take the chocolate between the teeth. Notice its shape. Now on the tongue, notice the sweetness, the … experience of chocolate that I can't describe. Savor its liquid goodness as it slowly dissolves. Sip the cooling coffee.
My relaxed gaze wanders the print on the living room wall as I practice. I've loved Vincent van Gogh's work since I first noticed to it. (Not an artistic type, that was probably college.) I love his vibrant use of color.
The longer my eyes roam over the print, the more I see. Irises toward the background that I'd never noticed become visible. Is that one on the right really white and blue? I ponder those orange flowers. My mind says “calendula” but my calendula never had that many leaves.
Some people suggest that van Gogh was colorblind. I don't say anything when I hear it but I have my doubts. His perfection in capturing the irises is amazing. The delicate softness of the petals, the strappy green leaves. Yes, they're full of grays, greens, blues and yellows, but to my mind, it’s as if he captures the essence of what's there, breaking down the colors to their essential elements.
I look at the soil beneath the leaves and wonder, “Was this the color of the dirt there? Or was it some good gardener’s mulch?”
What does this painting tell me about Vincent? Every creative endeavor contains some of its creator. Is this too a self-portrait? Vincent’s was not a happy life. What would he want us to see?
Some people suggest that van Gogh was colorblind. I don't say anything when I hear it but I have my doubts. His perfection in capturing the irises is amazing. The delicate softness of the petals, the strappy green leaves. Yes, they're full of grays, greens, blues and yellows, but to my mind, it’s as if he captures the essence of what's there, breaking down the colors to their essential elements.
I look at the soil beneath the leaves and wonder, “Was this the color of the dirt there? Or was it some good gardener’s mulch?”
What does this painting tell me about Vincent? Every creative endeavor contains some of its creator. Is this too a self-portrait? Vincent’s was not a happy life. What would he want us to see?
In Disney's Aladdin, the young protagonist sings, “If only they'd look closer. Would they see a poor boy? ... They'd find out there's so much more to me.”
There's more to any of us than meets the eye. We can know someone intimately, spend decades with them, and still only scratch the surface of who they are. If we fail to go deeply, we can get lulled into believing we know all there is to know. How often do I assume I know what this one is thinking or that one will say? How often I'm surprised when I finally include them in the conversation. (“Wow, they listened better than I’d hoped.” Or “I never would have thought of it that way.”)
Thank you, Vincent. This is a good lesson for me to remember.
I pick up a chocolate chip and munch. Oh well, mindfulness is a practice not an immediate experience, right?
There's more to any of us than meets the eye. We can know someone intimately, spend decades with them, and still only scratch the surface of who they are. If we fail to go deeply, we can get lulled into believing we know all there is to know. How often do I assume I know what this one is thinking or that one will say? How often I'm surprised when I finally include them in the conversation. (“Wow, they listened better than I’d hoped.” Or “I never would have thought of it that way.”)
Thank you, Vincent. This is a good lesson for me to remember.
I pick up a chocolate chip and munch. Oh well, mindfulness is a practice not an immediate experience, right?
