Notes after a two week silent retreat at The Forest Refuge, March 2010:
I love to do walking meditation in the dark and wee hours of the night. At those times, when in the walking room, I don't turn on the bright overhead lights, preferring the more subtle, rich, and evocative umbrage of the nightlight. No one has ever come in when I've been there at night. It's been the place where I've learned to feel safe enough, so that at certain unpredictable moments, while doing the slow walking, I can feel deeply into my heart, feel it's poignancy, it's heartache, and let go to deeply held, often hidden, fears, desires and loves. This is often accompanied by a responsive and cathartic sobbing. The walking that follows, is usually clear, concentrated and with ease. At other times in that protected, secure space I'm often ready to be delightfully playful.
Recently while at the Forest Refuge, someone moved the nightlight in the walking room to a side wall outlet (18“ from the floor), from it's usual place on the wall at the end of the walking pattern. I soon noticed that because of the change of placement, a shadow now accompanied me, on the wall by my side. Me and my shadow, what an invitation to play! Not only was there a shadow of my size, but by moving my walking path closer to the light, the shadow's projection got bigger, more distorted, stranger and scarier.
The synchronicity was perfect. I've been dealing with the BIG and BAD GUYS in my life. The ones who bullied or abused me as a child, and the fears engendered by my projections onto taller, larger men, and the ways I can limit my engagement with the world so I don’t draw the attention and the possible wrath of the Big Guys. In the walking room that night, with these big bad scary shadows of guys, I was in creative control. They could have weird bodies. They could be as tall as the wall. They could cast themselves up the wall and loom over onto the ceiling, as if to attack. But I was in charge! In that “real play” experience, I could enjoy the fearfulness, as something internal was being transformed.
Of course as an artist, a part of me was also seeing the shadows as artworks, as shadow-paintings. In my mind’s eye I could see the gallery installation of them, and sensed into the possible media to be used to execute the vision. I was being given a gift of poignant imagery from which I might begin a new body of work.
During this involvement with the shadows, I started thinking about the Buddhist guardians, those fierce muscular, armed big bad guys. Those characters who are actually helpful. I wanted to explore their personalities, and symbolism, get to know, understand, and develop a relationship with them.