1 Year of Visual Meditations

Lisa Rawlinson

Visual meditation 6/15/18 | Watercolor Pastel on paper | 10" x 7"

April 2, 2019

There's something you're good at that's not being put to use, let that out.

Visual Meditation 74 of 100: June 15, 2018

On the eve of April 1, 2018 I was still debating whether I'd do another 100 Day project. I had an idea to create watercolor pastel drawings that were derived from my daily tarot card, but there was a lot of chatter in my head about sharing that part of myself and integrating it more directly with my artwork. I kept putting it aside. But on that night I felt a strong push to go forward with it. So the next morning I woke up, drew a card, and made a drawing. And it felt, weird.

This was a part of me I was still reconciling for myself, attempting to understand what it was and how to fit it into my life and my world views (you can read me doing that in this blog post). So revealing that before I felt I could articulate it clearly and be prepared for any imagined backlash felt incredibly vulnerable. Because I like to be prepared. With knowledge. With a plan. Or at the very least some inkling of what I am even doing. But I had none of that in this case. I was completely winging it, aided only by the lesson 45 years on this planet had driven home that adhering to the Grand Supposed To was an empty pursuit.

The process began accompanied by that awkward feeling and a simple notation of the date and the tarot card on the backside of the drawings, which later evolved into free-form writing. Then, sometime well before I hit the 100-mark, I understood them to be not just an extension of the reading but the heart of it. The content of the imagery and words were not coming from my conscious brain, which acted as an observer and would only kick in at the end to finesse what was already given shape. It was and is a collaborative act of creation, with information coming forward that has been immensely helpful for me as I wiggle my way through a period of major transition. Occasionally there are thrilling predictive drawings and words that make no sense to me at the time, but later in the day when I find myself seeing in the world in front of me the thing I drew earlier, the words surface to deliver their message. Other times there are repeating messages that plague and frustrate me until I solve the riddle, like the one pictured here. I kept getting messages asking me what I was not putting to full use, and as I would internally list all my known skills then assess whether I was making good use of them, I was left perplexed and wondering, "What is it? What am I not putting to use?" At the same time I began receiving more frequent prompts to share this process with others in a way that would allow them to experience it for themselves, which was not at all something I planned to do or thought I had an interest in. And still I asked, "What is it? What am I not seeing?"

"What's right in front of you?," was the new repeating response. By this point I was past the 100-mark and had determined to continue with these indefinitely, deeply aware of the value they brought to my life and having hit my stride with the process. After several Visual Meditations all delivered this same message, my frustration was building and I was ready to bang my head on the wall, and that's when my grandmother stepped in—my deceased grandmother, mind you. (It wasn't the first time she'd visited, so this was less surprising for me than you might imagine.) The next drawing shifted from non-representational into a less frequent pictorial form. I went through the process: This color. Make a mark here. Now here. Like this. Now this color. But with less specificity of language. I had no idea what I was drawing until I saw a spider take shape, so I gave it some eyes. That was my conscious brain's contribution, spider eyes. I picked up my pencil and wrote on a scrap piece of paper, "If it was a spider it would have bit your nose!," the soundless sound of my mischievous Southern grandmother's heavily accented voice in my head. I recognized it as a different voice and energy than usual: specific, lighter, playful, familiar. But I still had to stare at the drawing throughout the day and then late that night before I finally saw that the spider, the drawing, was it. The Visual Meditations were it. (I laughed for a long time about that and learned that day to trust the process and everything that came forward, and to relax into it with with levity.)

The thing I was not putting to use was my ability to connect with that unexplainable source of information and guidance and bring it forward in both direct and more abstract ways, and I was not sharing it fully. Right away I began experimenting with creating customized Visual Meditations for others, both people I knew well and people I kinda-sorta knew. I found my footing creating these for others far more quickly than I did for myself and turned my attention to developing them further.

The evolution of over the past year has taken me places that I never expected or anticipated I would go, but not because I didn't want it, because I didn't believe it was possible so it never occurred to me to want it, or that I would find it as satisfying and rewarding as I do.

The Visual Meditations remain an important part of my overall creative output, both linking to and directing it. I consider each drawing (or drawing-painting combo since both techniques are at play) an original and legitimate work of art that stands on its own, albeit they are collaborative works between me (conscious brain me) and that unexplainable guidance (which I have ideas about but prefer to leave open to interpretation). And so, I'll continue to bring them into this world that is dedicated to my artistic pursuits as appropriate. But they have taken on a life of their own, and are now in need of their own space.

That space is a new, dedicated website called Open Window Meditations. It officially launches on April 12. I hope you'll go along for the ride with in both places.

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