REMEMBERING MY FATHER ON THE NINTH ANNIVERSARY OF HIS DEATH

WALKING INTO ETERNITY. It is difficult to let one's parent go, even when that parent has left you in death. When my father died, I didn't know how to "hold" onto him. Then I got an opportunity the summer after he died, to attend an "ex-voto" painting workshop at the Ghost Ranch in Abiquiu, New Mexico, USA. I decided to commemorate my father by painting him leaving the material world of his accomplishments and going into the vastness of the landscape there in New Mexico. (art by Hallelujah Truth)

Hallelujah to my father, Edward R. Schowalter, who died on November 21, 2003. I was at his side when he breathed his last breath. That experience is so FINITE. 

However, now it is nine years later, and TIME has progressed. I married my Chiboogamoo a year after my father died and have celebrated LIFE and been joyful in my father's absence because that is the responsibility of the LIVING.

I often feel amazed that I didn't get married until I was in my mid-forties. Then I remember the attachment I had to my father, and realized he had filled my life until his death. Dad was a man whose personality was expansive, and he thought in unique ways which were intriguing and not always easy to get along with. I LOVED him greatly.

DAUGHTER ANGEL.  I painted me in the ex-voto, flying over my father, directing his journey into the afterlife. Expressing one's grief through creative acts is consoling. I was comforted by this image of me being with my father after death, ensuring that he wasn't alone. (art by Hallelujah Truth)

Creative acts console. I recommend that everyone acknowledge his/her own creativity, make use of it, and develop it. The fruits of your creative labors will fill your table of need and loss. The fruits of your creative labors will bring you joy, celebration, and friends.

The ex-voto painting is a traditional Mexican style of painting, done to acknowledge or express gratitude to God or a Saint. I am not Catholic, nor can I say I am Christian; however, I can say that I have a strong and sincere reverence for the SPIRIT in each and every one of us. I BELIEVE in expressing gratitude and asking for assistance from the UNIVERSE. So I gained solace in painting this ex-voto of my father and thanking the great mother of the Mexican Catholic church, Our Lady of Guadalupe, for guiding and directing my father's afterlife.

OUR LADY OF GUADALUPE. She radiates light and love.(art by Hallelujah Truth)

That's Coffee with Hallelujah. SOUL BLOG with me and tell me what you think of my ex-voto painting. Ask me questions about my father so I can remember him. Share memories with me about your parents! And know that we the LIVING are charged with the responsibility to LIVE our lives. 

EX-VOTO FOR MY FATHER.  I have a story to tell you about my ideas that I expressed in this image. But I will have to tell you another TIME. Perhaps next year. I am now charged with the responsibility of the LIVING and must go out in the day after posting this blog entry. LOVE TO YOU ALL, and know that CREATIVITY consoles! (art by Hallelujah Truth)

JOYFULLY CREATING WITH THE EASE OF A CAT NAPPING: THE RESULT OF CREATIVITY COACHING

What is creativity coaching? Imagine the Dementers in Harry Potter. Dark cloaked figures arrive flying from the sky’s horizon, materializing out of another dimension, something like the Wicked Witch of the West but without a broomstick.  The atmosphere becomes embroiled with a sad heaviness as they hover over their human targets. Then ALL THAT IS PRECIOUS in LIFE is SUCKED OUT of the frail mortals who are left empty human shells incapable of experiencing joy or thought evermore.

Now IMAGINE the opposite—and you have CREATIVITY COACHING. My creativity coach, Lesly Fredman, is more like Peter Pan’s Tinker Bell with the ferocious intuition and intellect of Lily Tomlin, a whale and Leonard Cohen. Often appearing around Metro Atlanta as a SUNFLOWER in the “Dancing Flowers for Peace,” my CREATIVITY COACH follows the THRILLING LIFE FORCE, much in the same way that the sunflower moves synchronously with the sun’s position throughout the day.

(Lesly posing with old work of mine at a Christmas "Hot Grog" sale at her house in 2008. Before creativity coaching, I only worked on wood or found materials from the street. I used only acrylic and latex paints--generally gathered from the curb on garbage day. Since then, I have experimented with a variety of other media, finding my intense love for watercolor pencils shown in my work here on this blog.)

Okay, what would a mortal do with a CREATIVITY COACH? Let’s start with a simple act of imagination. CREATE a list of ALL that you HUNGER to DO to BE to EXPERIENCE to REALIZE—This is the list of YOUR ESSENCE (the kind that the Harry Potter Dementers want to suck out of you and that often remains IN you like an unlit fire!). With the assistance of the CREATIVITY COACH, you might do any of the following imaginative acts:

 1) DANCE each item on your DREAM list, experiencing and savoring each DREAM, bringing it into your body’s muscles, bones, and breath.

 2) PRETEND you are someone else interviewing the REALIZED YOU and finding out the ways you BECAME the DREAM YOU.

 3) PAINT (especially if you are a visual artist like me) aspects of what BEING in this NEW REALITY looks like.

 4) WRITE an “Exquisite Corpse” poem, teasing out fluid verbal images of YOUNESS.

(You have read earlier blogs about the death of my friend, artist colleague, and fellow pilgrim Sally Wylde. In the days following her death, I honored her in my daily creative meditations. I allowed her to be present in the unknown with DEATH. I trusted that together we would find a new way of being in DEATH.)

(The days following Sally's death, I drew each morning, holding the thought of her pilgrimage in the unknown terrain of death and without flesh. I was happy when I began envisioning her physical body returning to the earth.)

 Well, you get the idea. The CREATIVE ACTIVITIES are as INFINITE as the IMAGINATION. Live in the PRESENT and the thoughts and actions that you have and do become NEW WAYS of BEING. My Creativity Coach calls her business “PRESENCE.” We start a session by my answering the question, “What is going on with you right now?” Asked calmly, this question elicits a sweet hushness. We both lean into me to listen to my heart beat, my breath, to determine who I am now….

(We are readying for Sally's memorial service here in Decatur. Her death is with me. Mourning takes time. Sally will be a part of me in the many transformations of her PILGRIMAGE. This painting with death hovering around me is unfinished.)

This method of BEING PRESENT heals and rejuvenates. We, the CREATIVITY COACH and I, begin with WHO I AM--now. No past narratives and no whining about past periods of inactivity. We “light” the fire of Hallelujah. Even thoughLesly is sitting across the table from me, our meeting has the heightened feeling of ME being a performer on a theatrical stage. Didn’t Shakespeare write that all the world is a stage and we are all actors upon it? How FUN to get to TRY NEW WAYS OF BEING ON like a character in a play! Lesly gently directs ME with the skill of an experienced theater director. In fact, Lesly seems to me a most unique CREATIVITY COACH, having managed and been the artistic director of Theatre on the Prowl for almost 25 years.

 After working with Lesly for three years, I am here to tell you that our IMAGINATIONS CREATE REALITY. In our creative work together, I have started my own business, RuthTruth Art; created a new persona—Hallelujah; generated a blog, “Coffee with Hallelujah,” which integrates my creative process with my visual art; signed the lease for a studio at Sycamore Gallery to do collaborative work with my husband, Tony Martin, a paleontologist; given birth to the “Art Factory,” with Robey Tapp and Sally Wylde (who envisioned this art collective) and together completed a year’s art program with adolescent teenage refugees at Global Village School in Decatur. Believe me, there is much more that our creativity coaching has given birth to.  That is the subject of future blogs!

My journey has been both light and dark, buoyant and treacherous--I have been willing to open all of these doors because I am dedicated to being present to my AUTHENTIC SELF, and because of Lesly (and my Chigoogamoo)--I have not been alone!

 What is CREATIVITY COACHING? For me, it is doing my LIFE’S WORK with the JOYFUL EASE of a cat napping! I am happily experiencing every inch of my BEING! Thank you Lesly Fredman, CREATIVITY COACH EXTRAORDINAIRE!

 Hallelujah wants to hear from YOU, FELLOW PILGRIMS! Tell her about your AUTHENTIC SELF. Soul blog with Hallelujah!

SEASONS OF OUR SOULS: Distinguishing between the Physical and Spiritual

Our death is our wedding with eternity.

What is the secret? God is One.

--Rumi, Mystic Odes 833

 Hallelujah for the 4 seasons! As PILGRIMS, our annual journey through fall, winter, spring, and summer echoes the SEASONS of our SOULS. Our BEINGNESS relies on the PHYSICAL world to teach us about change, about transformation….

At the end of winter, when I see purple, yellow, and white crocuses jumping up out of the thawing, ungreen earth, I EXPERIENCE joy! My heart beats faster. The flesh of these vibrant flowers crouch low to the earth but reach out to the vast cold sky--unafraid. When their season of flourishing is completed, they return to the cycle of dormancy and darkness. 

Hallelujah for RENEWAL! REJUVENATION! REGENERATION! REBIRTH!

 Don’t the SEASONS of our SOULS travel in similar cycles of retreat (death) and repeat (rebirth)? Even as a child, I felt that the PHYSICAL world was TEMPORARY. Moving from military reservation to military reservation every two or three years only emphasized my sense of IMPERMANENCE. “This too shall pass,” I uttered to myself about my current dwelling place—a metaphor for the body-soul relationship.

 From 1965 to 1967 while I lived at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, the Vietnam War was raging and there were quiet livingroom talks among the adults about friends dying. When I was in fourth grade, we moved outside the gates of this military reservation to Fayetteville because my father, a battalion commander had volunteered to go to Vietnam, where he was wounded during the TET Offensives.

(Photo Left) Hallelujah with Dad in 1963. (Photo Right) Dad in Vietnam in 1968 after he had been wounded.

 He did not die there in Vietnam, but his PHYSICAL body had taken several “hits.” Right then, at the age of 9, I EXPERIENCED the concept of the separation of BODY and SOUL. There was a “something other” in my father that exuded EXISTENCE, something that rose above his golden-haired head that housed a piece of a bullet fragment from his earlier engagement in the Korean War when he was only 24.

In these childhood days, I used to sit in my father’s lap and stroke the back of his head where the bullet fragment was lodged and replay the story of his heroism (SPIRIT) in Kumhwa, Korea, which earned him the Congressional Medal of Honor. Then I would linger on the romantic story of how he met my mother, a Red Cross worker, during his lengthy convalescence (BODY) in a military hospital in Texas. Growing up in the PRESENCE of a HERO has impact. A hero’s SPIRIT is different from the spirits of other people, or at least it has been made more visible by his or her significantly brave PHYSICAL action.

It was later as a teenager that I had my own simple but profound experience of SPIRIT being separate from BODY. I was 16 and living at Fort Benning, Georgia, and going to the Catholic high school, Pacelli, where in religion class we were making our way through the New Testament of the Bible. We studied passages like Matthew 6:19: “Don’t store up treasures here on earth, where moths eat them and rust destroys them, and where thieves break in and steal.” Religion makes a clear distinction between the MATERIAL and SPIRITUAL world.  And the MATERIAL part is not going to last!

Even though I have continually experienced this sense of the “ephemeral” in MATERIAL things throughout my life, I remember the first time I looked into a school mirror after my body had somehow unbeknownst to me—“blossomed” into a young woman.  I took in a short breath—I did not recognize my outer shell. I saw my blue eyes staring back at me, but the form of my body seemed to be an alien container, a cultural outcome of being in a flesh and blood form. SOMETHING STIRRED WITHIN ME that was not infinitely anchored to this MATERIAL world.

(Photo Right) This is an image of a student from the Global Village School in Decatur. I wanted to take warm, fun photos of the girls and went to the school equipped with hydrangeas and other flowers, as well as quilts to provide the background. 

Today, I am 51 rushing onto 52. It is a hot humid day in Decatur, Georgia. The summer solstice, the longest day of the year, is little more than a week away. And I find that my  SEASONED SOUL is watching my aging body.  I see “untouched” photos of myself taken last week by a terrific Atlanta photographer, Shannon McCollum, and observe my wrinkling face, skin discoloration, gray hair, and weight gain. Overall there is strong evidence of PHYSICAL decline.

 Engaging with “raw” photos of my PHYSICAL self worries me on several levels. At first, my vanity is ruffled! I see that I am old. Old is not beautiful (correct?). Second, what role does my aging BODY have in this world of perpetually emerging youth? Will I be discarded? Finally, I see evidence of my MORTALITY. I, too, shall die.

 Shannon’s photos of me are the result of a favor I did for my friend, Lisa Streib, a talented graphic designer. She is starting a new online business retouching photographs and needed BEFORE and AFTER pictures to demonstrate her considerable skills of tweaking people’s portraits to make their images closer to our media savvy expectations. She is an amazing wizard at that!

 (Above Photo) This is the "after" photo, go to Lisa's website to view the "before" photo of me. You will see additional images of me, as well as other examples of her craftsmanship. I wanted the photo of Hallelujah to "mirror" the portraits of the Global Village School students. (Below Photo, Left) One week after Luis's memorial service at the dojo, the hydrangeas are withering. (Below Image, Right) You see a partially scanned piece of my artwork of two rubber cut prints and drawing. I see Wandjina as a symbol of my "masculine" energy out in the universe on a PILGRIMAGE.

Meanwhile, my participation in her project generated the content for this blog. Because there is MY SPIRIT! This is the SPIRIT of HALLELUJAH! It is this SOUL that is the PILGRIM on the JOURNEY that you are reading about on this blog. I welcome the joys that my BEING in this PHYSICAL world brings. However, I want to detach from the pain and suffering and the inevitable outcome of my DEATH.

Instead, I cultivate myself by observing the SEASONS of my SOUL. I laugh at my vanity. HA HA HA! Summer is here in the Peach State of Georgia. My SOUL is revitalized, recharged, and refreshed after SOUL BLOGGING with YOU! Perhaps, I am a ripe juicy peach ready to be eaten in the heat of summer!

 What SEASON IS YOUR SOUL right now? Blog with Hallelujah and describe your state of being—what does it taste like? Wishing you the FRUIT of SUMMER! HALLELUJAH!

END OF THE JOURNEY: FINITE OR INFINITE?

From where do we PILGRIMS come? To where do we go? We are born. We die. The JOURNEY seems FOREVER. Perhaps LIFE is INFINITE.

When my friend Luis died, his mother Juanita was open to the possibility that he might have become a cardinal—that brilliantly red, black-faced bird that frequents our yards here in Georgia. Why not? She had made connections between a cardinal she saw after learning of her son’s death, and then saw one again as she went inside to view his body at the funeral parlor.

Without questioning the particulars of Juanita’s hypothesis, I dedicated myself meaningfully to the task of envisioning Luis as a cardinal, flying to his next destination. A red-bodied angel emerged on the sheet of white paper in front of me. In addition to wings, Luis was now equipped with a large orange-yellow beak and a bird’s eye view of the world. 

Let me speak of my artistic process in honoring Luis and his mother with this cardinal-Luis image. I drew and painted what was “easy” for me. As a visual artist, I treasure PROCESS before PRODUCT. “To keep your process flowing, to feel the enjoyment of creation, you first need to go where it is easy,” writes Michele Cassou in her 1995 book, “Life, Paint and Passion.” (If you are thinking this approach to visual art is similar to Natalie Goldberg’s towards writing, you are correct. Natalie Goldberg wrote the forward to Cassou’s book.)

Whenever I begin to draw, I start with what is familiar. Michele Cassou uses the following simile, “Your painting is like an apple tree. If you want to eat its fruit, look for a ripe one, one that drops into your hand when you touch it….Do not pick green apples….Remember: Every apple will be ripe in its time; do not rush it.”

So I started with the familiarity of drawing an avian head, crafted a human bird neck with shoulders that extended into arms and wings, finished by human legs and feet—triumphantly creating a blended species. Easy! Because I had been working with similar imagery to express changes in my own life’s journey (see “Trust in the Imaginative Process, April 19, 2010).

As I moved close to completing the image, I stepped outside to my courtyard to show it to my condo neighbor, Kiona. It was a sunny Saturday morning, and it was pleasant to be outside after huddling over my art table. As we leaned towards one another in conversation about DEATH and BIRTH transitions, a cardinal flew close to us and landed in a nearby tree. I addressed the bird, “Hello Luis, I painted this image for your mother. Thank you so much for coming and visiting us.” As long as we chatted, the cardinal lingered. Perhaps, he was waiting to get the birdfeeder for sunflower seeds. We don’t know for certain, do we?

When we emerge from our mother’s wombs, we are STRANGERS to ourselves and to each other. Our lives are JOURNEYS and we are PILGRIMS. Each step moves us towards a GREATER KNOWING of our own SOUL and the physical world that we inhabit.

Does the JOURNEY ever END? Write Hallelujah and tell her about your PILGRIMAGE. Is it INFINITE? Or are we FINITE? Can we become a bird, an apple tree, a firefly?

GASPER OF THE GREAT MYSTERY

Dear PILGRIMS, here in Atlanta, the seasons are changing. The sweet balminess of spring is quickly evaporating as summer approaches. CHANGE IS INEVITABLE. This evening when daylight lingers on the horizon well past the dinner hour, many of us PILGRIMS are mourning the loss of a dear friend.  Luis Caamano, only 46 years old,  died on this morning, May 23, 2010.

 

Many of us suspect that his SPIRIT has paused momentarily among us--that he hesitates to leave us because we are not ready to let him go. As we speak of him, there is laughter and there are tears.

 

WHERE DO WE GO WHEN WE DIE? What is the destination for Luis? For Hallelujah, this question is the GREAT MYSTERY.

In recent years, I have chosen to think of this GREAT MYSTERY as a divine feminine force. In order to breathe life into this abstract idea, I have searched for “female figures” that “hold” this MYSTERY for me. These drawings, watercolors, and photos that you see here are my explorations on this topic.

 Again and again, I am drawn to the young Muslim women who dress modestly and wear hijabs. As a teacher of English as a second language, I have the privilege of becoming acquainted with these young women in my classroom and the hallways of our Language Institute at Georgia Tech. I also teach art at the Global Village School in Decatur.

Often it is the “unfamiliar” that holds the MYSTERY. Seeing their upturned faces carefully draped by yards of fabric as they ask a question. Watching them drift from classroom to classroom, their ankle length skirts or long coats floating behind. Observing their forms, sitting next to one another on the couches sharing cakes and tea, their faces and hands visible.

 

What is KNOWABLE? What is UNKNOWABLE? When do we ever truly KNOW someone or something? Is a young female student dressed in a hijab more difficult to KNOW than one dressed in a mini-skirt and tank top? Is it because these students in hijabs pray five times a day facing Mecca that I look to them for some kind of amorphous answer to the major questions of LIFE?

 I do know that CHANGE IS INEVITABLE. But what makes for a GOOD DEATH? Did my friend Luis die well? For those of us left living, what makes for a GOOD LIFE--especially when we see that our lives can be suddenly wrenched away from us as was Luis’ when he had his sudden heart attack.

On my PILGRIMAGE, I seek the GASP of discovery. I stand in AWE of the unknown. I look for the MOTHER, that divine feminine force which I believe will help me comprehend something I only vaguely sense is out there beyond me. I imagine SHE is the GREAT MYSTERY.

FELLOW SOJOURNERS, what do you KNOW about LIFE and DEATH? What can we KNOW with certainty? Share your thoughts with Hallelujah. Meanwhile Luis, I will look for your shining eyes out there in the darkened night sky among the constellations. You loved us all and we loved you back. We will love you always.