Dearest Susie and Rosemary, Thank you for talking to one another and to us. I have read your beautiful and provocative reflections twice, each time being moved to what I call God-tears. I have no idea what God is. I write to God, every day. Sometimes, when I have written the shmutz out of me sufficiently, a poem shows up. Occasionally prose, too. I kind of see the writing as a collaboration between me and the God-thing. We’re not always good at our art, God and I, but every now and then I experience the blinding love you write about, and reread my poem in a state of wonder. I also know God talks to me in my own voice because it’s got a South African accent, is very bossy, and tells me how to do my life, a lot.
I'm very aware of you in this conversation, Jinks. Love the idea of collaborating with God. I use this word freely to allow for whatever or however the reader experiences Wholeness, Transcendence. How about something out there that recognizes and loves something in here?
I love (Partial) Wholeness as being out there and in us and everywhere. I also think we help Partial Wholeness become more whole and vice versa. It's a lifetime's gig...
I'm familiar with that idea but I have trouble working with it. I'm not sure (as you always say) what God or Wholeness is if it's partial. What's the point of it? What's it for?
Jinks, I was so looking forward to your take on today's conversation, and I'm so glad it touched you! In addition to all the other kinds of love discussed, I often feel love and wonder for the process itself. How can it be that words and images bubble up through me--where do they come from!? I conclude it must indeed be a collaboration between me and something larger.
I KNOW! It can be almost overwhelming TO BE AWARE OF BEING in the steam of life's process of creating itself. Humbling, too. The "something larger" is backdrop to it all, and when I am awake to that, and allow the words to arrive, I can sometimes cry with gratitude. And laugh with joy.
Ein Od Milvado - is one of my favorite phrases – it encompasses everything – the wholeness and the nothingness – just as does a work of art perceived by the viewer in the recesses of her mind and heart, created by the artist in her mind and heart and absorbed into the universe (Universe with a Capital U?) into the Divine Mind and Heart? It is in the everythingness and in the no-thingness that so much happens. I am flooded with work at this time, but am grateful to become part of this conversation. Thank you for initially writing. I hope I can keep involved with the conversation. Sending blessings, Leila
Dear Susie - thank you for bringing me into the conversation. Like Jinks, I find God to be a Partial Wholeness, sometimes with me and and sometimes elusive but always returning. I am in the process of aging, I hope well — and wondering what this Partial Wholeness has in store for me. Rosemary, I love your art. It invites me to ponder, if I picked up a paintbrush, what I might I do? I haven't ever tried but your art encourages me perhaps to move forward.I am inept with technology and don't really know how to use this platform, so I might struggle to come back to you, and hope this goes through. Thank you for reading/listening.
Thank you so much for writing, Leila. Your message went through just fine. The glitch is that it's my Substack so it doesn't go directly to Rosemary. She's the one who has something meaningful to say about picking up a paintbrush...I'll let her know that your message is on the site and get back to you when she's responded. Re the Partial Wholeness, my feeling is eyn od milvado...there is nothing else. But that doesn't mean I'm in touch with that all the time. Alas.
Leila, I'm so glad you joined this conversation and hope you have time for more when Susie and I post Part 3 next month. Thank you for the kind words about my art. I love that you are pondering the question, "If I picked up a paintbrush, what might I do?" It's such an exciting, open-ended question. Exploring it could give rise to surprise and delight, whole new ways of experiencing oneself and one's connection to those deep recesses of the Divine Mind and Heart, as you so beautifully put it.
I had not been familiar with the phrase Ein Od Milvado. I looked it up and find it very mysterious and rich. It reminds me of "emptiness" in Buddhism, and feel like it signals a fundamental oneness. Thank you, and Susie, for bringing this into my awareness.
What a rich conversation you two have threaded! I am especially moved by writing as an “antidote to loneliness.” I have many reasons to feel lonely upon occasion, as do so many of us who have lost loved ones and live alone as we continue to age, but when writing or painting or working feels right and good and exactly what we must be doing in this moment, it is not unlike being with a close friend, it’s like your self splits in two and the one over there gives you helpful hints, insights, ideas, ways to say things or how to move the paintbrush that feel right. It’s exhilarating and one feels enriched all by oneself, not in a self-aggrandizing way but in a solid, yes this truly feels like me way. I am so grateful for those moments and the encouragement they provide. Thank you both for putting these eloquent tapestries of thought and feeling on display for us.
Thank you, Mary Sue. It's the "this truly feels like me" part that really gets me and, I think, what Rosemary and I were discovering. My experience of that is not that there's another Susie "over there," but rather that the Susie I've been longing for is rising up out of obscurity and having her say.
That's a lovely way to feel it...I think I see it not as a totally separate part of me but as a coach or doppelganger spirit-like someone who has all my pure and best interests at heart!
That's so beautifully stated, Marysue. I love that you note that this kind of closeness with your own experience is not self-aggrandizing. There's a simple joy when it "truly feels like me." Best thing in the world, I think.
Such a special, rich, evocative conversation, thank you both! For me, when my original voice “lands”, I feel that I’m tapping into the immense/infinite collective.
I agree. Collaborating with Rosemary has allowed me to consider ways of thinking about these questions that I otherwise might not have dared to engage with.
I have to thank my friend for that statement--I was so struck when he first said it. Obviously, it was his true experience. I hadn't thought of it quite that way. And I realized I had perhaps considered it unseemly to love oneself and one's work like that. But his statement somehow made it ok! I think he'd definitely note that the falling in love includes not only being taken with one's uniqueness but also recognizing that we are connected with something larger.
I find there to be a difference between art as a practice and art as a product. As a practice, art serves, as you suggest, ourselves--paradoxically, perhaps, because in practice we seek something (money, God, conquest) beyond ourselves. The product, however, is about our connection to others. That connection may manifest as implicit or explicit praise or criticism from other people, transactional relationships (i.e., getting paid), or as changes in our self-perception wrought by the practice, such as altered confidence, humility, or identity. These, in turn, affect our relationship with the world. Art heals, but it is not entirely safe!
This is a very intriguing response. I especially love the last sentence. I feel intuitively that anything that can really shake things up, effect change, enlarge consciousness...has to be less than entirely safe. It also seems to me that on a deep level art arises out of connection and identifies each artist's path towards connecting with the world. More on this in Part 3 at the end of September.
I love that last sentence, too. Art is definitely not safe, and that may be why it has the power to change our self-perception in the various ways you mention. Thanks for this thoughtful post.
This piece is very thought-provoking. At the moment I"m in love with painting dog portraits. Is that my authentic voice? I'm not sure, but I know that when I look into the eyes of a dog/picture of a dog, I feel like I"m connecting to another soul. That's what I try to convey in my portraits.
Do you paint the dogs from life or do they originate in your imagination? Just asking out of curiosity. Whichever it is, it seems clear that there's a larger connection going on. Especially since you get to this place by looking into the eyes. My rabbi from years back used to say when you look into the eyes of another person, you're looking into the eyes of God.
I often know the dogs in real life, but also use a particular photo as a reference. I've started painting dogs from photos for people. You can see some on my website suelynnart.com If you email me suegboca@gmail.com I'll send you the latest one. The email addresses I have for you don't work.
Sue, I think one's authentic voice takes many forms throughout life. Your love of and soul-connection with your current work is a great indicator of authenticity. Thank you for this excellent comment.
Dearest Susie and Rosemary, Thank you for talking to one another and to us. I have read your beautiful and provocative reflections twice, each time being moved to what I call God-tears. I have no idea what God is. I write to God, every day. Sometimes, when I have written the shmutz out of me sufficiently, a poem shows up. Occasionally prose, too. I kind of see the writing as a collaboration between me and the God-thing. We’re not always good at our art, God and I, but every now and then I experience the blinding love you write about, and reread my poem in a state of wonder. I also know God talks to me in my own voice because it’s got a South African accent, is very bossy, and tells me how to do my life, a lot.
I'm very aware of you in this conversation, Jinks. Love the idea of collaborating with God. I use this word freely to allow for whatever or however the reader experiences Wholeness, Transcendence. How about something out there that recognizes and loves something in here?
I love (Partial) Wholeness as being out there and in us and everywhere. I also think we help Partial Wholeness become more whole and vice versa. It's a lifetime's gig...
More to think about. Can you explain Partial Wholeness?
I see the Divine as being incomplete, and in process, like us. Just a little further ahead!
I'm familiar with that idea but I have trouble working with it. I'm not sure (as you always say) what God or Wholeness is if it's partial. What's the point of it? What's it for?
Wholeness doesn't mean perfection to me. So the idea of the totality/God needing our help to wake up and become more conscious appeals to me a lot.
Jinks, I was so looking forward to your take on today's conversation, and I'm so glad it touched you! In addition to all the other kinds of love discussed, I often feel love and wonder for the process itself. How can it be that words and images bubble up through me--where do they come from!? I conclude it must indeed be a collaboration between me and something larger.
I KNOW! It can be almost overwhelming TO BE AWARE OF BEING in the steam of life's process of creating itself. Humbling, too. The "something larger" is backdrop to it all, and when I am awake to that, and allow the words to arrive, I can sometimes cry with gratitude. And laugh with joy.
Beautifully said! 💖
Dear Susie,
Ein Od Milvado - is one of my favorite phrases – it encompasses everything – the wholeness and the nothingness – just as does a work of art perceived by the viewer in the recesses of her mind and heart, created by the artist in her mind and heart and absorbed into the universe (Universe with a Capital U?) into the Divine Mind and Heart? It is in the everythingness and in the no-thingness that so much happens. I am flooded with work at this time, but am grateful to become part of this conversation. Thank you for initially writing. I hope I can keep involved with the conversation. Sending blessings, Leila
Dear Susie - thank you for bringing me into the conversation. Like Jinks, I find God to be a Partial Wholeness, sometimes with me and and sometimes elusive but always returning. I am in the process of aging, I hope well — and wondering what this Partial Wholeness has in store for me. Rosemary, I love your art. It invites me to ponder, if I picked up a paintbrush, what I might I do? I haven't ever tried but your art encourages me perhaps to move forward.I am inept with technology and don't really know how to use this platform, so I might struggle to come back to you, and hope this goes through. Thank you for reading/listening.
Thank you so much for writing, Leila. Your message went through just fine. The glitch is that it's my Substack so it doesn't go directly to Rosemary. She's the one who has something meaningful to say about picking up a paintbrush...I'll let her know that your message is on the site and get back to you when she's responded. Re the Partial Wholeness, my feeling is eyn od milvado...there is nothing else. But that doesn't mean I'm in touch with that all the time. Alas.
Leila, I'm so glad you joined this conversation and hope you have time for more when Susie and I post Part 3 next month. Thank you for the kind words about my art. I love that you are pondering the question, "If I picked up a paintbrush, what might I do?" It's such an exciting, open-ended question. Exploring it could give rise to surprise and delight, whole new ways of experiencing oneself and one's connection to those deep recesses of the Divine Mind and Heart, as you so beautifully put it.
I had not been familiar with the phrase Ein Od Milvado. I looked it up and find it very mysterious and rich. It reminds me of "emptiness" in Buddhism, and feel like it signals a fundamental oneness. Thank you, and Susie, for bringing this into my awareness.
What a rich conversation you two have threaded! I am especially moved by writing as an “antidote to loneliness.” I have many reasons to feel lonely upon occasion, as do so many of us who have lost loved ones and live alone as we continue to age, but when writing or painting or working feels right and good and exactly what we must be doing in this moment, it is not unlike being with a close friend, it’s like your self splits in two and the one over there gives you helpful hints, insights, ideas, ways to say things or how to move the paintbrush that feel right. It’s exhilarating and one feels enriched all by oneself, not in a self-aggrandizing way but in a solid, yes this truly feels like me way. I am so grateful for those moments and the encouragement they provide. Thank you both for putting these eloquent tapestries of thought and feeling on display for us.
Thank you, Mary Sue. It's the "this truly feels like me" part that really gets me and, I think, what Rosemary and I were discovering. My experience of that is not that there's another Susie "over there," but rather that the Susie I've been longing for is rising up out of obscurity and having her say.
That's a lovely way to feel it...I think I see it not as a totally separate part of me but as a coach or doppelganger spirit-like someone who has all my pure and best interests at heart!
Ah! Your own personal life coach. Great.
That's so beautifully stated, Marysue. I love that you note that this kind of closeness with your own experience is not self-aggrandizing. There's a simple joy when it "truly feels like me." Best thing in the world, I think.
Yes… and for the past few days I have been writing as well as ( finally) painting again!
That's such good news.
Ooh! wonderful!
Such a special, rich, evocative conversation, thank you both! For me, when my original voice “lands”, I feel that I’m tapping into the immense/infinite collective.
This feels so right. It erases the distinction between what's "for me" and what's "for the world." Thank you.
I like that, Susie--it does erase that distinction!
Yes, well put, Zoe. It's a wonderful feeling, that connection. Almost physical! (And thanks, so glad you've enjoyed the conversation.)
“falling in love” with oneself and one’s own voice." What an extraordinary thought!
I agree. Collaborating with Rosemary has allowed me to consider ways of thinking about these questions that I otherwise might not have dared to engage with.
I have to thank my friend for that statement--I was so struck when he first said it. Obviously, it was his true experience. I hadn't thought of it quite that way. And I realized I had perhaps considered it unseemly to love oneself and one's work like that. But his statement somehow made it ok! I think he'd definitely note that the falling in love includes not only being taken with one's uniqueness but also recognizing that we are connected with something larger.
I find there to be a difference between art as a practice and art as a product. As a practice, art serves, as you suggest, ourselves--paradoxically, perhaps, because in practice we seek something (money, God, conquest) beyond ourselves. The product, however, is about our connection to others. That connection may manifest as implicit or explicit praise or criticism from other people, transactional relationships (i.e., getting paid), or as changes in our self-perception wrought by the practice, such as altered confidence, humility, or identity. These, in turn, affect our relationship with the world. Art heals, but it is not entirely safe!
This is a very intriguing response. I especially love the last sentence. I feel intuitively that anything that can really shake things up, effect change, enlarge consciousness...has to be less than entirely safe. It also seems to me that on a deep level art arises out of connection and identifies each artist's path towards connecting with the world. More on this in Part 3 at the end of September.
I love that last sentence, too. Art is definitely not safe, and that may be why it has the power to change our self-perception in the various ways you mention. Thanks for this thoughtful post.
This piece is very thought-provoking. At the moment I"m in love with painting dog portraits. Is that my authentic voice? I'm not sure, but I know that when I look into the eyes of a dog/picture of a dog, I feel like I"m connecting to another soul. That's what I try to convey in my portraits.
Do you paint the dogs from life or do they originate in your imagination? Just asking out of curiosity. Whichever it is, it seems clear that there's a larger connection going on. Especially since you get to this place by looking into the eyes. My rabbi from years back used to say when you look into the eyes of another person, you're looking into the eyes of God.
I often know the dogs in real life, but also use a particular photo as a reference. I've started painting dogs from photos for people. You can see some on my website suelynnart.com If you email me suegboca@gmail.com I'll send you the latest one. The email addresses I have for you don't work.
I do relate to the rabbi's comment.
Sue, I think one's authentic voice takes many forms throughout life. Your love of and soul-connection with your current work is a great indicator of authenticity. Thank you for this excellent comment.