For the FEWture Conference in June, I presented a thematic drawing mediation activity around hands. When my friend came over this weekend, she paged through the sample book I’d prepared and thought it looks interesting, so we drew some hand meditations at the dining room table.
Drawing Meditations can take many forms, but the basic idea is to let your mind wander while you draw, then to review your drawing for clues, messages, or insight from you subconscious. I’ve done it so many times that I usually simply dive in with a vague sense of purpose and let the process unfold as it will, but this time I made sure to start with some deep breaths for relaxation and a moment for setting an intention for the drawing.
Then we traced our hands and started drawing. We had settled on the “flower fingers” example and so started out our drawings with flowers.
In my head, I had a vision of leafy vines twining up my arm, exploding into a bouquet of flowers with my fingers poking out between them. But that isn’t what ended up on the page at all.
When my drawing isn’t what I envisioned it’s never a surprise because I know my brain is sending me coded messages. What I want to draw is rarely the message I need to receive.
So what did this drawing tell me? That my way of working on projects is successful. I do lots of different things repeated over and over at random intervals – drawing, painting, writing, yoga, sewing, songwriting. This way of being creates beauty in each activity and the overall effect is pleasing, too.
I was happy to realise this because I privately bemoan my lack of specialization. Shouldn’t I have been able to be a master of something?
When I was coloring in the background – a mix of water and air colors – I had a distinct memory of my mother’s handwriting. Though I wan’t writing words, the quality of the line reminded me of something she had written in crayon.
The ring finger is filled in with my color of love, purple. The outline of my wedding ring formed a boundary that allowed me to concentrate love into a reservoir I could tap. Maybe that symbolises my long relationship with Tod; he is a safe place where I always receive and share loving support.
But when Tod saw the drawing he said it looked like the ring had cut off circulation to the finger. I laughed and then scratched my head a bit. What metaphor applies? I’ll need to let that sit a while before it makes sense to me.
Sometimes it is helpful to have someone else share what they see in your drawings; sometimes it is simply confusing.
