Friday morning Bob and I headed out through fire country to the coastal town of Mendocino for the weekend. Seemed a bit illogical to drive toward the 134 wildfires burning out of control in Mendocino County. I could feel an irrational fear welling up and choking me as the air got thicker with smoke and our eyes started to burn. What if a blaze raced across the road as we approached. . .it could not possibly move with the speed of my mind coming up with these fearful thoughts. And so, as we settled into our comfortable inn at the coast and breathed the fresh sea air again, I contemplated the way fear had gotten a hold on me.
Next morning I was seated in the coffee shop sketching (while Bob attended his art workshop) these two fellows, reading the scary headlines of the newspaper over this guy’s shoulder. But my fear had evaporated and been replaced by something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on, until suddenly the tiny shop started filling up with people and conversations. People from the fire-lands come to the coast for a breath of fresh air and hope. I spoke with a young woman who bravely told me about her home on a ridge with wildfires burning on either side and fire crews too overwhelmed to deal with them. The experience of these people in this coffee shop became my own, and with the flow of compassion, the fear just dried up. Later I painted and wrote about it and remembered the poem of Rumi called The Question.
I knew I had to work something out about this experience, so I started with ink and watercolor paint and got as close to it as I felt – holding it in my hand. Then I just started writing what came to mind on the left, ending with Turn the Heat Up.
As I remembered the lines from Rumi, “most people guard against going into the fire, and so end up in it. . .” I recalled my experience of driving through the smoke-filled landscape, my fear providing moments of suffering. But then Rumi says, “whoever walks into the fire appears suddenly in the stream. . .” So I added a stream at the bottom of the piece and realized I’d come through to the cool stream side.
Rumi’s poem gets even better. He says, “The voice of the fire tells the truth, saying I am not fire. I am fountainhead. Come into me and don’t mind the sparks.” I couldn’t possibly share with you what I understand of this without Rumi’s words and some paint, but it felt very full.
Susan,
It’s early Saturday morning. Often I find myself beginning my day reflecting on your entries, those creative moment that captured you. They light something up inside me too. I let your movement move me and the river of belonging to this world restores me. I was captured by this image. Fire is such a metaphor for all that is being burned away in our collective lives. So many of us are seeing our lives burn away, whether that be in relationships, homes, ability to afford all the rising costs, or in our jobs. I wonder if this little bit I remember about Rumi’s poem fits into The Question? It goes something like, ” Love is the flame that once is gone, only God remains.” I am forever changed by your inner and outer musings.
Thank you,
Gayle
Your reflections are so welcome – it’s like passing a flame back and forth. Your Rumi quote is from another poem/quatrain I believe. I will show you the whole piece when I see you.
Susan,
I have lived in Mendocino, Fort Bragg my entire adult life (back and forth from Santa Rosa) and have never quite seen it as I did through you sketchbook. You have opened a whole new world for me right here in my old world…………………I can SEE Mendocino and Fort Bragg differently now. I SEE everything differently since I participated in your travel sketchbook day.
Thank you…………….I loved the Rumi quote, funny how what we need to hear, comes to us. Wow, the fire is our lives.
Looking forward to your class on the last week-end in July.
bev
Susan – We have not met, but I found your site via Gayle Swift’s blog and I was captivated by your artwork and the process you use – where you let it work you and you are open to where it takes you.
My art supplies have been packed for many years and it has been a long time since I have taken the opportunity to relish that creative experience.
Your description of the process and your artwork put me back in touch with that part of me and I deeply appreciate that connection at this point in time of my life (for many reasons)
Thank you for sharing – I love the way you integrate color, words, and symbols – allowing the observer to interpret whatever layer has meaning at that point in time