The Thinning of the Veil and Creativity

The Thinning of the Veil and Creativity

 

Mount Shasta headwaters

 

There is no doubt about it: the darkness is growing in the Northern Hemisphere, and the seasons are shifting. With Samhain around the corner and the Day of the Dead amongst us, there is an inexorable presence that humanity has always witnessed. In with candles and flowers, Halloween decorations popping up—people recognize through many traditions, this shift into a more inward and dark time of the year.

Creatives and many artists feel a surge of creativity at this time. Often they stay up in the evening hours attending new sparks of inspiration or wake in the night with a vivid dream. I find myself brimming with ideas and revelations. As I have tended to the cleaning and simplifying of things around my home space, as autumn often suggests, there is new fertile ground for ideas to emerge through this growing darkness. In my moon journal I have noticed this Moonth is full of inspirations. (The Moonth is a word I use for menstrual cycle, as it often covers two calendar months).

Listening to the Creative Impulse

 

Tea ceremony

 

It is a potent practice to listen to these waves of inspiration, visions, and connections to the more spiritual parts of our lives by making art. Art speaks to the subconscious, the parts of ourselves that are usually pushed down deep inside. Giving ourselves the time to create, to express our authenticity, gives us a sense of deeper understanding and connection with our sense of purpose and belonging in the world. It is a gift of humanity.

I share with others that it is important to listen to how we want to express. There are, of course, as many forms of creative expression as there are humans—we each express differently—this is part of the beauty of the world. The practice is exploring how we want to express, and when to express it fully. Sometimes the medium (or form of expression) is most potent when we feel a strong sense of inspiration; other times creating is just what we need to feel alive again. The practice has been given to only the "gifted few." This is simply not correct.

Media has given us a very different view of what creativity is and what it is not. We are all creative, and have a wellspring of creativity waiting to be harnessed—and this is the time of year when we have a tremendous connection to it.

Practical Steps for Connection

Take time out of your day, or evening, to connect with your creative self. This can look like lighting a candle, sipping some tea, taking out a piece of paper or some yarn, clay, anything your are drawn to. (If you would like some specific examples, see 5 Creative Prompts for my Moon Journal post) or even the work of others for inspiration. If you even have the slightest desire to try, go for it! The way you interact with the medium will give you valuable information about whether it's worth pursuing.

Usually, if a specific medium speaks to me, I feel inspired for more ideas. They just come, like a creative imagination. It feels like a fun playful energy between myself and the medium itself. If a medium is not speaking to me, I do not feel inspired, or I think of something else to do. This is a sign to try something else.

Honoring the Season’s Rhythm

The key for this time of year is to go inward. Spend time more quietly, slowly. Take a long walk or a bath in your week. Enjoy cooking in the kitchen a little longer than you normally would. Let the aromas of the spices fill your soul, just like the many forms of artistic expression that are available for us to experience.

When you notice that there is a particular inspiration or medium filling you up in a way that makes you feel inspired to do more, to gain a certain clarity in your life, or gives you inspiration for a project, take note! The Moon Pad is a perfect tool to record these moments of inner reflection, for they are the markers of inspiration to help us create a fuller expression of ourselves as we grow into the person we are becoming. These markers are all the more potent because they are often connected with our cycle and season—two of the most rhythmic patterns in our everyday life.

Art and creativity are expressions of our deepest selves. They help us know ourselves and our connection to the world around us. This season offers a unique opportunity to listen deeply and create authentically.

See what I am currently working on in my studio through my IG page:

 
Stroking the natural firs of alpaca and sheep puts my mind to sleep. The warmth soothes the tips of my fingers. They swirl and glide over the intricately laid fibers. I ask, ‘who are you and why have you come though my hands?’ A nest A mirror A table for communion Why is the center left blank? She presents herself as: ‘Soul Mirror’ Dried seaweed roots, merino wool, alpaca and mattress vine Materials all from California To ask what you will and the image appears- consciously or subconsciously. As I hang from your wall- you walk by and I will weave your answer through. #felted #wovensculpture #divination #lightbeing #nest #moontime #orb #intuition #art #magic #spiritualart
 

Ready to track your creative cycles? Learn more about the Moon Journal here:

Moon Pad

Huipils and their Hidden Meaning

 

Highland Guatemalan Huipil

“a communication of relationship that is anchored within the Earth and extends into the Cosmos”

The traditional clothing along in the villages along the shores of Lake Atitlan and surrounding highlands represent a way of dressing that speaks to a time before mass production of textiles.  Within these villages, the women still spin cotton, dye it with the plants that surround their homes and weave on a backstrap loom.  What may their close proximity to nature and art reveal about their interconnectivity?

Each of these processes represent something unique and deep that has been lost in many modern societies. Their weaving practices have remained intact for thousands of years, despite the pressures and convenience that machine made clothing brings.

Their huipil, or shirt is a living representation of this human endeavor. It acts as a communication of relationship that is anchored within the Earth and extends into the Cosmos. Each village, even though sometimes a mile apart has their own designs, their own patterns that communicate the origins and relationships of the wearer.

For example, in Santiago, they see themselves as the “bird people” and they embroider birds along the neckline of their huipils for women and within the pants of men. The parks and shores are speckled with many species of birds— the voices of these animals are present as one walks along the streets of the village just as much as the local language is. One could hear these birds singing just by seeing the colorful embroidered huipil of a woman living here.


Traditional Huipil from Santiago, Atitlan

‘The Bird People’

Within another village, San Juan, the traditional weaving practices have thrived more than others.  Here most women spend most of their days spinning and weaving textiles on a backstrap loom.  They speak of the entire process of weaving like giving birth from warping the loom to the movement one embodies while weaving on a backstrap loom. 

For the Tz’utujiles, weaving is a birthing process and for them, their weavings are alive, encoded with many symbols and colors that carry messages rooting them to the land they are from.

This kind of art-making is rare today.  This kind of ecological artmaking is an ancient form of co-creating with the land that was once very present in the lives of humankind.  But the modern lives of many people does not make space for such practices.  At what expense?

What would it be like to wear something that you made through not only your own hands but through your own time-honored connection to the Earth around you? Watching how the plants grew, what tints they gave, and what time to harvest them all would come from years of living in close relationship with the land.

The practice of weaving a textile on a backstrap loom is time extensive.  One shawl could take a month to complete, working 5-6 hours per day. 

Weaving becomes a lifestyle, a way of living that literally weaves one into the Earth.

The huipil of San Juan consists of depictions of cotton seeds.

Traditional Huipil from San Juan, Atitlan

Seeds of Cotton—

For the Tz’utujiles, weaving is a birthing process and for them, their weavings are alive, encoded with many symbols and colors that carry messages rooting them to the land they are from.

Naturally, they embody their intimate connection with the cotton trees and see themselves one of the same with the sacred tree that provides the clothing they wear.

The clothing becomes an extension of their soul, or essence, through the practice of artmaking—weaving.  Of course this is one form of artmaking but believed to be one of the most ancient. This is the kind of relationship that I am interested in restoring or evolving for the Western world to consider.

Learning from these cultures, like the Tz’utujiles in Guatemala and bringing forth these deep felt interconnections between the land, art and identity may bring deep insights on how to move forward in a world where people often feel separate from the land, and no longer sees themselves as a part of the living Earth.