getting back into the swing of the Collecting. this is an unofficial and ongoing project that documents nothing whatsoever, and everything at once. at times it is sheaf of tickets and lists fastened into the sketchbook, at other times something more deliberate and opaque.
reading this lately and it's been changing me in delightful and deep ways.
Judith Lasater is interested in living through a yoga practice whose sanskrit yoga is meant to convey a 'sense of wholeness,' and not, necessarily, the bodywork we associate with the word. as this alternate definition of yoga is unpacked, Lasater has neat spaces carved out around unruly words like "discipline," and "detachment," which are words that tend to me make squeamish. however, as with the ayurvedic equation of seeking balance by adding to life instead of restraining it, Lasater navigates through the weedy rushes of the concepts with similarly holistic ideas. part of what appeals to me about her direction is the simple comfort of knowing there are others in the world whose fiercest Life intentions become bedraggled, dull and ragged when they are all in flight together. this kind of knotwork, she says, can be resolved through ideas of detachment and discipline.
discipline, she opines, embodies intention and commitment, no necessarily accomplishment. "practice is discipline in action...discipline is doing what is possible with consistency..." and is not necessarily task-oriented behavior.
the room is a bell to me when i read this in failing twilight last evening, every object is resonant with the simplicity of this revelation.
she continues, "when you notice that you are pushing yourself to complete a task, soften and be merciful with yourself."
soften? and be merciful?? with yourself???
this must be that kind of Buddhist detachment that gets swung around in misty philosophical conversations, the idea of viewing yourself, momentarily, from the third person. observing yourself by yourself. for if it is possible to be soft and merciful with yourself, then it follows that such constraint and heavy loads are strapped to our bent backs, for back of a better phrase, on purpose.
on a totally different note, the kids at my school are learning about aboriginal artwork and the concept of self-portraiture. particularly, they are learning about a departure from realism and representationalism- painting the way things feel not the way they appear. to manifest this in person, they are being traced, life-size, on a butcher paper and painted in. clearly this does not present the problem that arises in adults- struggling to relinquish control over aesthetics and to engage in a purely sensory experience of art-making.
before the discussion about representation in art-making constraint abounded. a glut of self-doubt prevailed. there was discomfort with the medium, the tools and yawning chasm of between the imagined (an idea in the head) and the realized (that idea projected onto the page). but when it was made clear that the goal was simply enjoying the markmaking it was universal epiphany. a crackling and brilliant thing. i think this is the kind of merciful softness we strive to pull around us when we approach the abyss, seemingly the results are ravishing.
: :
is this where we live, in this place, at this moment, with the air so light and wild?
--A.D
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