Thursday, February 2, 2012

Perception, Conception and Impatience


I've been reading "The Practice of Contemplative Photography: Seeing The World With Fresh Eyes" by Andy Karr and Michael Wood. I'd say it's an eye opener, but that would be such a cheap bit of foolishness that you would  fall to the ground groaning. And you might hurt yourself and possibly require chiropractic care and then I'd feel terrible and, and... That small blathering was brought to you by "conceptual" thought and had nothing to do with "perception" which is what Karr and Wood are encouraging us to practice in this book; to see directly, without the musings of the thinking mind.

But they are wholly more sensible than I am so I'll let them explain the difference between conception and perception (an important distinction in creating art and our everyday lives ): "Visual images appear when consciousness connects with the eye. Mental images appear when consciousness connects with the conceptual (thinking) mind....Usually perception and conception are blended, which makes it hard to distinguish the two....The usual sequence of perception is that in the first moment, there is direct sensory experience. In the second moment, a concept and label arise, superimposed on the direct perception." The book is delicious (without ketchup) and reads like pure dharma slathered liberally with insights about artistic vision.

What came up for me as I read the first couple of chapters and tried out some of the practices was the awareness of my own subtle forms of impatience (not to be confused with the less subtle ones, which to use a Basil Fawlty turn of phrase, are bleeding obvious). And it wasn't really what I'd expected to explore while reading about perception and conception. I thought I'd just get down to the work of actually "seeing". But suddenly it was everywhere (my impatience), just the way I'm in a hurry to get to the next delicious sentence, or the way I want to jump up and try being contemplative (I know, I know, that's ridiculous).  But I could just see this urge to get going, what might masquerade as enthusiasm, actually is a form impatience. I could feel the impatience in my body, the edginess of it; in my held breath, the tenseness of face and neck muscles. I could feel how much energy this thief of impatience was stealing from me.

As I went about my week, it was like I carried a flashlight that focused it's brilliant beam on my impatience. It shone on my speech and attitude when I interacted with others.  I could feel a grasping, wanting quality in conversations, wanting the conversation to go a certain way. There was a subtle lack of space and openness for things to simply develop.  I wanted the same thing from others that I demanded of myself.  I wanted things to progress easily in the direction that seemed good to me. Impatience had me leaning into the future, hankering after results.


When I went to my studio space to paint impatience kept me from just being with the canvas, the paint, the partially finished painting.  As I oriented myself toward awareness and patience and simply sat for a bit with a painting in progress I sensed its delicateness and vulnerability. I sensed a subtle violence in my impatience, a self centredness.  I could see my usual impatient wanting;  wanting a piece to be finished,  wanting it to be a certain way, wanting it to be easy. It was all laid out before me like a little lesson plan on impatience. I sat a while longer and simply looked. I didn't need to like or dislike. I saw whiteness, patches of green and grey. I let them sink in. I let them just be.

When I took an afternoon walk I could sense that same tenderness, an openness as I looked at the tree branches silhouetted in the bright light along the shore. I could walk quietly and just look.  I reminded myself of my intention to be aware, to remember to just see. I didn't need anything to be beautiful or depressing or make me happy. The landscape and I could coexist in stillness and peace. There was pattern and shape and greenness and light.

And so it seems perception holds the hand of patience. And together they offer us an opportunity to walk through this world with an open heart and open eyes. I invite you to take your eyes for a walk through the world with the intention to "just see". You will find a rich and vivid world of detail waiting for you.

16 comments:

  1. Such clarity in your description of what happens. . . and I feel a kind of constriction in my chest that tells me I must resist buying yet another book because I keep grasping at that next thing rather than staying with what I know for a while, being more patient with myself and what is happening before me at this time rather than my infernal seeking, seeking, seeking. . . To BE WITH WHAT IS (and with the [many unread] books one currently HAS) does, indeed, take patience. Thank you.

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  2. and such clarity on your part. this is so true, to be with our own wisdom, to spend time quietly. the teachings always tell us we have everything we need right here! it is true about the seeking. sometimes I feel it as the avoidance of "what is", hoping for something better. and of course you can "perceive" without buying another book! patience is a great koan of mine!

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  3. As I was reading this and eating lunch ;-) I stopped and just took in the vibrant colours of the spinach curry and the chickpea curry. Then I caught myself "making" a story about nature's nondiscrimination of what colours "match".

    Just seeing. No extensions into illusion. Lovely teaching, Carole! What a practice.

    Btw, several of us reviewed Andy and Michael's book along with photographs we took using their teachings. Adam has his on http://dharmasnapshots.tumblr.com.

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    1. I remember you blogging about the book and seeing your photos last year sometime?? Yes, so easy to move instantly to the story telling! Happy lunching!

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  4. Beautiful! I've been wanting to read that book!

    My twilight walks are actually helping me in this area too - to actually slow down and just *see* - although sometimes I also need to put the camera down and just experience my surroundings, instead of trying to capture them *through* the lens of the camera. :)

    "...walk through this world with an open heart and open eyes..." Such beautiful awareness Carole! Love the plates in the sink!

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  5. Christine, I can so see you diving into this book as photography is such a strength of yours. And of course you are already doing some of this work. We see it on your blog. Happy picture taking. It is fun to find new ways to enter that state peace and awareness.

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    1. Thank you for the lovely compliment, Carole... We all inspire each other with our creativity don't we! Isn't life exciting!?

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  6. Funny thing... when you look up perception and conception in the dictionary, each one is part of the other's definition. I can see how impatience might arise in reading about them. Fortunately it floats away on the river of thinking along with my other thoughts. Sometimes tho when I'm hanging on to it like dog with a bone, my impatience turns inside out and becomes embraceable, rather lovable, because it tells me I am alive.

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  7. That's interesting about the dictionary definitions. I can see that, especially in the mundane world of dictionaries. Wood and Karr are doing this very clear separation to help us be able to simply "perceive".

    I can't blame my impatience on their distinction but rather it is an "habitual" attitude of mind for me that I work with and the exercises (helpfully) brought it into awareness in a keen sort of way. It was good because then I could let it go, rather than drag it around just below the surface.

    I like that and it's so true it reminds us of our "aliveness" and our humanness. Thanks for thinking about this so deeply and coming back to share! Good weekend to you!

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  8. I've had this book on my reading list, and really enjoyed your impressions of it, Carole, and how it's helping you to see more. I find myself more and more opening to allowing to see more through photography, art and writing. It's always amazing how resistance or impatience is so close to the surface, isn't it? I want to try and tap more into my heart inspiration. make it visible and live more richly through the physical experience of creating. Fantastic post and thoughts today, thank you! :o) Happy Week ((HUGS))

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  9. Good morning Tracy. It is amazing isn't it how the practice of art is an great opportunity to experience the Dharma; to clear seeing, to letting go. Someone said something like every way we have of being in the world will show up when we do our art. If we're willing to be aware these practices wake us up!

    And it's good to see our resistance and impatience because only then can we let go of it.

    Good week and hugs to you!

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  10. I love your writing...and as I begin to sink into the coziness of this inquiry up comes the voice of wise old Kimon Nicolaides in the Natural Way to Draw...(talk about dharma study) when he states that "once we learn to tellthe difference between an elephant and an umbrella we stop seeing".

    I look forward to keeping my artist eyes softly open for per/con/in ception in the week ahead...what a grand way to relate to renewal.

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  11. Thanks, as always, for your kind words! I just borrowed the Nicolaides book recently from a friend. I love the quote, yes once we "know" something we fill in the details instead of seeing. We live so much of life this way! Happy seeing!

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  12. You wrote: "As I oriented myself toward awareness and patience and simply sat for a bit with a painting in progress I sensed its delicateness and vulnerability. I sensed a subtle violence in my impatience, a self centredness." I love the level of self-awareness here.

    And then a bit further on, you mentioned tenderness.

    One of the great lessons for me in carving stone has been that attacking the stone as if in anger is a fast ticket to exhaustion and the waste of good stone.

    Working with my carving teacher I absorbed what you described above, which is no matter how one aligns the chisel and wields the hammer, once must approach the stone with tenderness. The form in the stone, as you say, is delicate and vulnerable, and needs the greatest care and assistance to emerge.

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