Waking Meditations
“Jack, I want you to draw me like your French tractors…”
It's difficult to express the quiet pleasure of spending an hour drawing something like this.
You sit in silence for a period just looking and making marks. You hear the wind and the pedestrians, feel the heat of the sun—but it is only secondary to the spiritual.
Less exercise than meditation, the act of drawing keeps the mind rooted in observing spatial and visual relationships, even as it wanders—astrally projected to distant places, old conversations, and possible futures.
Whereas writing is highly dependent on concentration, drawing is more akin to archery or pool: brief, intense moments of pulsed concentration followed by relaxing and letting the muscle memory do the heavy lifting.
My favorite subjects are inanimate objects and unaware human subjects. Particularly with people, the intimacy of studying a pose, posture or form is quite thrilling. But once the subject becomes aware of the attention, it shifts—from meditation to performance.
Have you ever been drawn? Likely you have by some sneaky artist. Somewhere out there are perhaps whole books dedicated to the topography of you as translated by passion and skill.
—
5:12 am CST — last nights glorious moon with it’s hazy glow has set and the darkest watch is upon us.
Lying supine upon the floor, wrapped warmly in a thin blanket. Head propped by a large, squishy pillow. To my right, unseen in the darkness, three bookcases stuffed with tomes and titles. Ideas and art that struck my fancy enough to make them permanent residents.
Occasionally, in a fit of excitement over a book I’ve read, I’ll snatch it off of the shelf when describing it to a guest as if showing them the physical book will make them understand more deeply what an enjoyable or profound experience it was to read.
If my guest is a fellow lover of books, the experience intensifies. Our energies combine and compound. If they ask questions or relate to the title through something they’ve read—it’s exhilarating!
Then, in a fit of passion, I’ll thrust it into their hands and insist they take the book and hopefully find as much joy as I have.
I’ve lost more than a few books this way. But I don’t think of it as a loss—I quickly forget I ever possessed the brick, but expect they will always see the item in their own library and recall fondly our intense exchange.
They MUST! I have my own collection gifted me by others. Each a special memory if not also an enjoyable read.
One day, I hope to have the courage to do this with my own books—to give them away to join the libraries of people o love.
—
This moment in the dark save for the spectral glow of my screen, will be one of my favorites of the day. Obligation and expectation are several hours away and the moment is mine. Well, ours.
I choose to spend these precious seconds with you through the miracle of language. I wonder where you read these. On a bus? Or riding with your family? Sitting in a waiting room? Or stately berth on a train or boat?
My imagination sees you traveling, dear reader. Or perhaps, like me, your circumstance is more relaxed. Sipping coffee on your patio as the sun cooks away the morning dew. Or wrapped comfortably in your own blanket, a burrito on the edge of oblivion.
It’s early. Or not. Wherever and whenever it is, I pray you are safe and happy. Content at the possibilities the day holds.
For me, there will be challenges, but nothing too difficult today, it is hardly possible to have a challenging day when it has begun so splendidly as it has with you this last hour.
I will rise, read and meditate some. Meet a friend to do a little preaching, lunch, a short meeting that might generate some paying work (I HOPE it does!!) and then we’ll see what the afternoon asks. Considering the current hour, maybe a nap!!
And without a doubt, there will be time for the meditation of drawing.
If I happen to draw you—thank you for pretending not to notice.
WIWL
WolfCast Home Page – Listen, follow, subscribe
Thank you for coming here and walking through the garden of my mind. No day is as brilliant in its moment as it is gilded in memory. Embrace your experience and relish gorgeous recollection.
Into every life a little light will shine. Thank you for being my luminance in whatever capacity you may. Shine on, you brilliant souls!
— Go back home and read MORE by Wolf Inwool
— Visit the archive
I welcome feedback at my inbox
