Mindful Living: Wherever you May Find Spirit

By Cybele Elaine Werts
CybeleW@aol.com  
www.supertechnogirl.com 

Art is our memory of love. The most an artist can do... is say, let me show you what I have seen, what I have loved, and perhaps you will see it and love it too.
~ Anne Bevan, Painter, Western North Carolina Woman (June 2003)

 
One Easter when I was thirteen my mom drove us to a picnic spot in some nearby woods. In a shady bed of pine needles, a grove of tall trees reached toward the clouds. Once settled in the quiet, she told me that nature was her spiritual muse and that she wanted to share that with me. Unfortunately I was a typical grumpy thirteen year-old who did not want to spend any more time with her mom than necessary. I whined to go home, and so we did.

I regret being so like that, because it wouldn't be long until mom would pass away and I'd never have another trip to some woodsy park for my mom to hug a few trees. If I'd been as grown up then as I am now, I might still have admitted to her that tree hugging leaves me cold, but I would surely have appreciated that she knew how to find the mystical in the midst of the mundane.

I am like my mother in that I usually find my spiritual moments alone. One exception was when I was singing with the Champlain Echoes, a women's barbershop choir. We were at a national conference where we sang "Heart of my Heart" along with about a thousand other voices. Making such a joyful noise felt as close to God as I can imagine. But mostly though, I get my spiritual moments alone, and most often through my writing or my work with food, both hobbies that offer a "product" at the end, a fine thing for a practical soul like myself. I'm going to explore those a little bit here, and I hope that even if my hobbies leave you cold, you will at least consider the possibility of finding the mystical in the midst of the mundane.

Although writing is surely a craft as any other, I have also found a bit of that old loving spiritual feeling in the act of putting words to paper. I often feel that God is speaking through me which is not so much of a grand gesture as it is an acceptance that magical things manifest through perfectly everyday means. I think of this gift as something that only I can do in the exact way that I do it. I suppose you could say this is true about everything, but it does seem different somehow. It seems to be a pure form of communication, although of course once it reaches the other person it can change into something radically else. Contrast this to arranging party food which must take my message through the food to the person eating it. A lot can get lost by way of a cherry tomato.

Whether my message be by way of a tomato or even baby corn which is possibly even more spiritually imbued, the message is a very different flavor than that of my words. My description might make your mouth water for a tomato's tingle on your tongue, but an actual tomato is ripe and joyous with the kiss of life. My platters are a unique work of art, translating the spiritual gift that arose from their creation as well as a very practical passing of life sustenance. I imagine that some part of my own spiritual energy is transferred to the food in the act of preparation. It is not unlike Tibetan Sand Mandalas where "millions of grains of sand are painstakingly laid into place on a flat platform over a period of days or weeks. When finished, to symbolize the impermanence of all that exists, the colored sands are swept up and poured into a nearby river or stream where the waters carry the healing energies throughout the world.*" I think of this as a true act of faith, to let go of all your work and to know that its energy has transformed into something else.

The strange and unknowable part of all this is that an hour later it is completely eaten, and we cannot ever know if it changed anyone or no one. In this way food is a most ephemeral art form like the snowman in the Calvin & Hobbes cartoon. Building a snowman is a transient expression, bound to be lost when the sun climbs high. Calvin might also say that all of life is ultimately transitory and somehow, unknowable.

I don't quite know if I have a spiritual muse as my mother so clearly had in the grove of those pines. Even so I'm glad that the things that bring meaning to my life are so easily accessible. It appears that words have a far greater longevity than food because they can be traded along from person to person, near and far. But I think food might also be traded along in energy form. Carried on faith from person to person, near and ultimately very far.

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Photos of my Party Platters

SOURCES

Quote from:
The Mystical Arts of Tibet - Tibetan Sand Mandalas
http://www.berea.edu/galleryV/MandInfo.html 

Beautiful photos of Tibetan Sand Mandalas
http://www.artnetwork.com/Mandala/ 

Reprinting Information
Would you like to reprint this column? If so, do ask! I usually allow distribution because spiritually speaking, sharing ideas is an important way of expressing my faith. Please e-mail me at CybeleW@aol.com