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.

Dogen And Cheese Blintzes

I did a few paintings a while back, using only shades of grey with lots of texture and in the end they please me.  I think there is something about the rough texture and slightly crude form that I like.  I call this one "Dogen's Boat" because it has a quote from Dogen collaged on to it that says: "When riding in a boat, if one watches the shore one may assume that the shore is moving.  But watching the boat directly one knows it is the boat that moves."

I think Dogen is talking about perspective here, about where we place our eye and the difference between truth and illusion which is tricky business.  What I have been experiencing today as Dharma may not be an exact experience of what Dogen is talking about but I think there is some relation.  Today I took my soon to be 94 yr old mother to the doctor.  Lately, after much work (years in fact) I thought to myself I am making friends with my mother.  She no longer pushes my buttons in the same old way.  And then I realized that yes I am making friends with my mother but really I am making friends with myself.  I have done enough work on this that I am no longer stirring up trouble, making myself irritated at the things she does.  I don't read things in to her every action.  I don't take things personally.  In short I have come to see the "truth" of how things are.  I have come to accept her and myself.  We are no longer doing the age old misery tango that we have done for so many years.

I still listen to what she says and think that it has a negative bend to it, that her glass has a hole in the bottom and is more than half empty.  And that makes me feel sad for her.  But I can see that  life can be difficult for those of us with a practice, who spend time reflecting  and working  with what we do.   So how difficult is it when you have nowhere to rest all your troubles and grievances?  Today my partner and I could even have a good old laugh about some of her comments, no ranting and grumbling on my part, no need for him to commiserate, just a good old laugh and on with the day.  And so there I was in a boat with my mother eating cheese blintzes and poppy seed cake and both of us were enjoying ourselves thoroughly!