Art / Meditation Workhop

Hoping to understand myself better, I attended a two-day art/meditation workshop organized by artist Mayumi Oda. The workshop, held at Kensoin temple in Kyoto, introduced us to meditation in the form of zazen, simple yoga, chanting, and walking meditation. We reflected on Oda’s series of huge painted thangkas, or buddha images, on exhibit at the temple. Then, as the final part of the art/meditation process, we each painted a body map, or symbolic self-portait based on a life-size tracing of our body.

The workshop was a good fit for me because it involved art-making, which is already a part of my daily thinking and so could help make a smooth introduction to the unfamiliarity of meditation. It was also a chance for me to create something not related to the designs I do for work.

There was a personal connection as well. Mari lived with Oda in Hawaii for a few months (which is when Mari and I first met) and considers her a mentor. After hearing about Mayumi, I’d run into her art now and then in San Francisco, where she has connections to the Zen Center, just down the street from where I used to live. I was glad to finally meet Mayumi. Her art, energy and kindness are inspiring.

It was very therapeutic for me to get out of the house, away from my work routine, to meet a group of strangers on my own and share a strong experience with them. As the only non-Japanese person and non-Japanese speaker, I felt a bit like the oddball at times, but everyone was very helpful in translating for me and patient when Mayumi would take time to repeat things in English.

Painting the life-size thangka was fun and invigorating. Calmed by meditation and reflection, I could let my worries pass and the ideas flow. I remembered the satisfaction of moving my body to create something physical rather than virtual — not just clicking with my finger, but moving my whole arm, standing up and reaching out with the brush, kneeling in close, smearing the lines with my thumb. The image I chose is about my hope to, by looking inward, transcend the confusion of my clouded brain to find a strong and clear vision that others can share and benefit from. (Resemblence to the Eye of Sauron is unintentional.) Looking at the image now, I also see a hope that my hairline will get stronger, not weaker.

The other participants’ paintings were each really enjoyable and interesting, especially when the maker explained their personal symbolism and the process they used to find it. A dragon with flowering trees for horns, a figure floating fetus-like in a teardrop, a moon-deaded volcano hula dancer with banana feet, a man burning with Jackson Pollack flames, a chicken with daikon legs.

Back to my daily life. But last night I meditated with Mari for fifteen minutes before stretching my back and legs. It’s a start.