Tag Archives: resistance

Momentum. Inertia. Resistance. Change.

18 Mar

I captioned this post Momentum. Then thought, “Perhaps ‘inertia?'” so googled “inertia” to be sure I understood how I was thinking about it–and the definition has bowled me over for several reasons:

The vis insita, or innate force of matter, is a power of resisting by which every body, as much as in it lies, endeavours to preserve its present state, whether it be of rest or of moving uniformly forward in a straight line.”

Bowls me over because of that one phrase: “power of resisting.” I’ve been pondering resistance in other forms–not physical forms as in this definition–but thought forms. Emotions. Reactions. Old programming. Any and everything that arises and feels like a flow deterrent. Any and every thing that disturbs my “wah.” I know I didn’t make that up–this word “wah.” But again, I just googled its spelling and can’t find it. It was a common concept in something I read years ago. A novel probably and “wah” as I interpreted it, broadly referred to tranquility–an unfettered state. Can anyone help me with this reference?

So anything that disturbs what I’m calling my “wah” creates what I’m also referring to as “resistance.” And paying attention to this–to resistance–has preoccupied me for the last few weeks. In the past I’ve struggled with it–or more aptly–against. Made resisting resistance a career. To be overcome. But suddenly the irony of “resisting resistance” becomes almost laughable. So–the practice has been NOT resisting but simply acknowledging. Allowing room for it to be without globbing onto it and making it all pervasive. And noticing how this simple shift reduces the charge. Fine tuning. That’s all.

When I sat down to post, I was stunned that it’s been a month. A few weeks I thought. But the momentum of thoughts and creation hasn’t translated to blogdom. Still, here’s what I’ve been doing. Bowls taking precedence for a while over slow cloth. I’ve placed a lot of them down town at Woolworth Walk and at a local market in W. Asheville. Constantly having to rephrase my thinking from “no one will buy these” to “they’re beautiful and will find good homes.”

Here are a few recent ones. Bowls with lids:

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and a larger bowl, inside outside:

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and several from this morning–moving back and forth between color and neutrality:

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So. A month of momentum focused on bowls and recognizing/allowing resistance. And one more thing–the cloth that earns the title “slow.”DSC02457

Post #75 or #3–However you want to see it

3 Dec

I have a new camera.  Gifted.  A lovely generous gift  And it’s giving me fits.  Not only is operating it presenting a challenge, but downloading to my computer and then to Picassa.  Computer simply not recognizing the files.  Downloaded a driver.  Yes.  Did that.  Did all sorts of things.  Tried the wi-fi route.  Did the hard wire usb from camera to computer.  Nothing was working.  No thing worked.  Posted on forums. Reloaded Picassa.  Contacted Sony.  Amazed myself at both the depth of frustration I succumbed to, as well as my detachment  from it all on some other level.  “F*%^ it ” expressed several–no, many–times.  Watching self acting out.  Thinking “isn’t this something?”  And yesterday I have no idea what I did but suddenly I had current pics in Picassa.  Solved.  Issue solved.  Right?  No.  Same problem this morning but somehow the magical combination of plugging, unplugging, doing this and that, resulted in a download.  My palms were getting sweaty and I was sensing a slow boil mounting, but it didn’t.  Something worked.  So now, having said this, I’m wondering, “was that just a necessary distraction?”

And I think it was, and seeing this now, I realize how perfect the universe functions.  I might elaborate on that later.  But right now I’m looking at what the techno problem distracted me from.  And it was this–it distracted me from the sense of feeling totally and completely adrift. Questioning.  Everything.  Why am I doing this–this cloth stuff?  Why am I drawn to it?  Why can’t I seem to put it down? What’s going on here?  And not just questioning the “whys and whats” but also judging.  Thoughts like “geeze, another little pile of cast-off rags  occupied my focus and concentration for hours, days even.”  How crazy is that?  And who is asking the questions?

It’s cleared for me now.   I’m seeing that more importantly,  cloth is  the medium.  The medium that supports an inner journey.  An armature for holding thoughts and beliefs as they arise.  A solid foundation providing context allowing me to examine my world view.  My spiritual path.  My what?  My existence I suppose–and how each individual existence relates to the all of everything.  And I really don’t have to be in my head to do this.  In fact, the process doesn’t happen as an intellectual, cognitive exercise.  It only happens when I’m open to receiving whatever wants to arise.

Will I remember this the next time I feel stuck?  I don’t know, but please feel free to remind me.  Remind me that I’m stuck because I’m resisting.  And I think I resist because often what’s arising has an edge.  Could be viewed as painful.  Unpalatable.  Not fit for dinner table conversation.  All right.  Here’s an example.

I have been distraught over what’s is happening to marine life as a result of Fukishima.  Starfish trying to pull their arms off.  Fish and wildlife piling up, trying to get as far away from the radiation as possible.  Creating scenarios that have old-timers saying “Well, we’ve never seen this before.”  No doubt.  But this isn’t a very warm and fuzzy topic, is it?  And wouldn’t we all just rather ignore it?   But there it was.  There it is.  Arising, arising.  Asking at least just to be acknowledged.  The starfish.  The fish.  The mammals.

Yesterday I looked for a  little sketch I’d done.  Not thinking specifically of making a cloth–just a way of saying, “I hear you.  I’m so, so sorry.  And I wish I could make it right.”starfish

Then the trunk show, GivingThanks, the camera fiasco. Adrift. But wrestling with question of how does one express certain things? Certain unpleasant things. Like sadness, despair, frustration and even loss of real hope for this entity we call “civilization?” Is it met head on? No, I don’t think so. It has to be dissected to arrive at the reason for these feelings. And the reason always comes back to this. Love. Care. Concern. The flip side. This is what can be expressed.

I had no intention of going here this morning. And at any point now I’ll probably just bale. So just a bit more. The starfish would not back away from my consciousness. Nor would the feeling of being adrift. And out of that, without knowing it, this background cloth grew:ship

and now I’m thinking about it as safe haven. A place where starfish might be safe. I don’t know yet what will come forth, but it might look something like this:sketch

Adrift with Starfish.

And there is another cloth that is trying to morph into being. A notion of winter. A recognition of winter solstice. Another holding place. A fulcrum between two opposite sets of perception and/or reality. Impossible to determine that one side is “better than” the other. Is this what is called “acceptance?” Or is it simply acknowledging what is?parallel universes

I want to end this on a lighter note. This reminder that love flows through life constantly without obstruction. Building bubble mountains in the snow. Life. Beautiful, fragile and temporary.bubbles

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