What do you put in your medicine bag?
Walking the dogs this morning (a crisp, clear, warm, and sunny morning), it occurred to me that I need to consider the kind of medicine that we give to one another and the kind we give to ourselves.
Poison...We give to ourselves when we listen to the negative thoughts from an unsettled mind, from the unwarranted criticism of others, the result of our choices, or about art, and then act upon them.
Sustenance...Ah, this is what we give and receive when we count as legitimate the good comments and the healthy internal dialog that we speak out loud. We recognize the courage it takes to approach a canvas and to make a mark. We decide who we are. As we present ourselves to the world, it is not always possible to be received well.
What will we do with those responses...
I reached into my medicine bag today and found some healing medicine:
My fellow artists:
I'm fed by your work. You can do no wrong when you are authentic, and because of you, I am drawn to go forward.
My artistic ancestors:
How did Frida overcome? How did Joan Brown navigate a path with family and professional art?
What did Georgia O'Keeffe say, and how powerfully did she dig in her heels for her own beliefs? How hard was it for Käthe Kollwitz to create uncomfortable works and thereby comfort us?
Words that comfort, in winter, in recession, in the face of an unpredictable future:
"Whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are pure....think on these things."
Symbols:
A leather medicine bag (drawing, 5 3/4" x 6") that I made for Ell before going off to college. Secret nourishment inside that I cannot reveal.
But in mine:
There is mesquite meal that always calms my tummy if I've waited too long to eat.
Prickly pear fruit that reminds me that I am often hard to get close to, but I do have a colorful center that is not too sweet.
A sacred rock that informs me that there are immutable things that cannot be traded for shifting sand.
A feather telling me that my spirit soars like an eagle whenever I connect with paint---when I dream.
A container of water like my body--changing as it moves through the landscape, yet forever able to erode that which seems to be more powerful than I. Water wins every time.
May I always offer you good medicine as a fellow traveler.
Ocean Meditation #1 Image © 2011 Melinda S. Esparza
I went to have my eyes examined last week (Should it really have been my head? Prolly, but that's for another day.)
Chatted with the wonderful Dr. Peterson like we were old friends. I mentioned that Georgia O'Keeffe had macular degeneration throughout the final ten years of her life. How horrible that must have been for her. How awful for an artist!
Here's the thing I learned from the good doctor. She told me that new studies have shown that lutein (10mg per day) and ziaxanthin (2mg per day) can reduce the risk of developing this sight robbing disease. I ran right out and bought some, not because I have it in my family, but because it is on the rise in this country--and, because of Georgia. I hope you'll consider this for your dear artist's eyes.
Glyff Image © 2011 Melinda S. Esparza
This painting, one of my other favorites, Glyff (8" x 8") sold this week from my website. It's been a good week so far.
Better get back to work with my fancy schmancy new glasses...
