A fistful of rocks

Practice, practice, practice.

I told my art teacher my new mantram is practice, practice, practice.

He doesn’t know he is also my new Zen Roshi.

I’m taking a watercolor class this summer–my first–and each painting is a new journey.

I learn to blend colors and try to capture what my eye sees.

Like Zen Buddhism, the point is to see what is in front of you: not what you wish were there.

Have you heard the Heart Sutra?

One of the lines goes something like this:

No eye, no ear, no nose, no tongue, no body, no mind…

Sitting in my watercolor class, distractions fade away, and I have:

No phone, no screen, no music, no computer, no watch…

Taking an art class means uninterrupted time–for a full three hours–to just sit and paint.

My new meditation.

A liberating effect of the class is that I don’t care much what people think of my artwork.

As a complete beginner I know nothing.

In class I’ve painted blueberries, a poppy, a Tigridia bloom, strawflowers in a pot, an aubergine, wild peas and a fistful of rocks.

While traveling with a $3 paint-set I created purple mussels and a salt shaker.

I’m not even embarrassed to show people my efforts.

I figure I can’t do any worse: and I may even get better.

9 August 2017

#nativescience

#nativeamericanwriter