A waterlily blooms at Denver Botanic Gardens
When I was reviewing Christian McEwen’s book about re-imagining life to allow time and space for creativity to flourish, World Enough & Time, I flagged a passage where she quotes Twyla Tharp: “‘If you are generous to someone, you are in effect making him [or her] lucky. … It is like inviting yourself into a community of good fortune.’”
McEwen adds:
In other words, generosity is generative (they come in fact, from the same root, the Latin genere: ‘to engender, or be born’). Kindness is itself a creative act.
Generosity is generative; kindness is a creative act. Like the ring of ripples resulting from a pebble dropped into a still pool, with lovingkindness, the community of good fortune spreads outward.
The waning crescent moon aims at Venus, the planet of love, as they draw apart on their celestial journeys.
One of many things my late husband Richard and I talked about in his last months was how to make sure our ordinary every days reflected the great love we shared. Living with our hearts “outstretched as if they were our hands,” (a line from a Mary Chapin Carpenter song) was key to that, we agreed.
“You taught me to be generous,” he said. “I am grateful for that gift.”
“You were already generous,” I responded. “I just helped you find and exercise your natural generosity.”
Kindness as a creative act was illustrated in an email I received the other day from friends who we had reconnected with during Richard’s journey with brain cancer. Nancy and Richard had worked together decades ago in Boulder, and then lost touch.
When Nancy and Dave, a plein air painter, learned Richard had brain cancer, they were tremendously supportive. Among other things, after touring Richard’s studio and rock yard they commissioned him to sculpt a water feature for their front garden.
Richard played with ideas. But by the time he had figured out the sculpture, a jagged flagstone slab that rose out of a granite base the way the Flatirons rise out of the Front Range above Boulder, his tumor had essentially destroyed his right brain.
The “upraised arms” rock, a piece of gneiss with a distinct fold. (My sandal is for scale.)
He could explain the design, but could no longer sculpt. He did however, show me the boulders he would use, including the “upraised arms” rock, a piece of beautifully figured pink and gray gneiss with sparkly mica flecks.
“The fold reminds me of when you’re happy,” I said, “and you throw your hands upward, raising your arms high.”
He smiled, leaning on his cane. “That’s Buddha’s rock.”
I was puzzled.
“Their Buddha sculpture needs a seat to go with the water feature,” he said. “The upraised arms rock will hold him.”
I forgot about that rock in the intensity of the last months of Richard’s life, and in figuring out my new solo existence. Late this summer though, I was moving boulders in Richard’s rock yard, and uncovered it.
I emailed Nancy and Dave to ask if they wanted the rock as a “seat” for Buddha. Did they ever! As luck would have it, they were coming to Salida, so we arranged to have brunch and load up the rock.
Which proved to be a challenge, since it weighs around 100 pounds. But Dave had a tarp to use as a sled; we found a piece of lumber for a ramp, and tugged and hauled it into their Jeep.
Buddha on the “upraised arms” rock. (Photo by Dave Mayer)
One a fine day this week, Dave found time to set the rock in their courtyard garden. And emailed me this story with a photo of Buddha on his new seat:
Cleared a space, dug the hole, measured, dug some more, tweaked, and rotated the stone to drop in place. Duh! I had it in backwards, rotated one turn too many! (So much for an artist’s spatial recognition talents.)
I thought, “This is way too heavy to lift out of the hole again.” As I struggled, I said silently, “Richard, help me get this rock back out!”
Just like that, out it came. WOW! Now it’s back in … with the uplifting grain the correct way.
Generosity is generative, kindness a creative act, connecting us in a community of good fortune. You, me, Richard’s spirit, Nancy and Dave, the Buddha on his upraised arms rock. All it takes is living our days with love outermost, arms upraised, open to joy….
Buddha looks happy and satisfied, Susan, and I love that Richard helped with it after all.
Doesn’t he look happy, Sam? Thanks–I too love that Richard helped after all. Who’d have guessed…
Your way with words humbles me, as always. Sometimes I get too introspective, too into the now, too centered on the insignificant; this lovely piece gives me peace (!) and encourages me to embrace the uplifted arms of generosity and creativity.
Laura, I think we all get too introspective, too hung up on details–we over think, as Richard used to say. (He knew that habit well; it was something he worked our whole time together to be aware of and let go.) Seems to me that when I get stuck that way, it’s often because there’s something I fear. And if I can just let go of the fear, I usually can open up again and then I’m no longer stuck….
That is wonderful, sweet Susan. Sometimes, it seems, all we must do is ask…
Nancilynn, Thank you. And I agree–and then listen for what comes, and be open to it.
A beautiful and uplifting post—and of course Richard was there to help. Bill helps me often. And what a gorgeous piece of rock—completed with the Buddha so perfectly on it.
Penny, Of course…. I don’t always trust that, and then laugh at myself when I am surprised. I’m glad you’ve got Bill’s spirit to help you. Isn’t the upraised arms rock lovely? And as you say, it and the Buddha seem to complete each other. Wise are the ways of the world–if we only pay attention to them. Blessings!
Lovely. Just absolutely lovely.
Thank you, Bobbe. Sometimes I can just write a blog post pretty steadily (I’m never quick, but I can write steadily and efficiently.) and sometimes it takes a lot of thinking and scratching my head. This was a head-scratching, pacing-around-the-house-while-thinking post!
I love how eloquently you write about the generous nature of life; how we are never without what we need, how Richard is always there when needed. How perfect that Buddha played a role in this.
Kenna, I do believe that what we truly need is available, though sometimes finding it or obtaining it is not at all easy. I was thinking this morning about the past few years, in which I not only walked with my love through his journey with brain cancer, but also cared for my mom until her death February before last, and helped my dad, 84 and legally blind, adjust to living independently. So much to handle, and so many blows to the heart in a relatively short time. But also so much joy. Life is made up of those opposites, and the balance we find is in embracing both. (Not that doing so is easy at all!)
I have always collected rock, but mine are much smaller. The ‘upraised arms’ – it is good to hear Richard’s voice, still speaking to us.
Diana, Just to give you a chuckle, the upraised arms rock actually came from the “small rocks” section of Richard’s rock yard, defined as those he could move himself without mechanical devices! (He collected what he called “pebbles” too, and in fact had a whole pocket full of special ones that he had picked up over the decades and carried everywhere with him. I distributed those among Molly, her cousins, and the older of their kids….) His spirit is strong, which is a gift.
How lovely that you found the rock and it found it’s rightful place, with Richard’s spirit to help!
I’m sure the Buddha is feeling more at home now.
Susan Gallacher-Turner, It felt right, and you know how that is! As Nancy said, she’s going to have to make sure the Buddha doesn’t get too full of himself now that he’s got that lovely rock to sit on….
Susan, I’m having a little trouble adjusting to life after Terraphilia, but know it’s only been a few days back. Yesterday took a little bike ride off-road near home, ended up cleaning it more than riding it. Being close to local school, looks like a place where kids hang. Sadly though a lot of trash and glass. Not sure what this has on the Buddha other than it made me think of that rock and the Buddha. Perhaps being close to the ground for a time brought me back to thoughts of carving stone. I then picked up a rock and put it in my pocket.
Each day I walked passed “upraised arms” on the way to the studio..wondering, knowing it was a special rock. I too had moments of “Richard, I could use your help” but then he really was with me in spirit guiding me along. The last day the door was stuck. After pacing about I found myself talking aloud, “please, I really need to finish my stone” It opened.
Acts of kindness begin from the heart and are delivered in every way possible. I just loved this story and was happy to meet Dave and Nancy, now knowing they have a happy Buddha that fits ever so perfectly on his special rock. That is a beautiful gift.
Robin, It’s always hard to change places and paces. But you will, and stopping to pick up the trash on your off-road bike ride through the woods yesterday is a beautiful way to honor Terraphilia. Thank you! It’s a lovely bit of serendipity that you were able to meet Dave and Nancy when they were here to pick up the Buddha’s rock. I smile every time I think of it in their courtyard garden, with Buddha spreading his love for the world as he enjoys his new vantage point.
Richard is still here, still sculpting. His sculpture in this case not the overt shaping of the rock, but simply *seeing* it, and moving it into the right place and position. How lovely.
Deb, It IS lovely, and very heartening to feel Richard’s presence still, and to know that his work continues, albeit in this wordless way that involves sensing and feeling. I was delighted to help move the upraised arms rock on to its next life, as it were!
I’ve read that creativity is as much about seeing and perceiving as it is creating. Richard exemplified that with his noticing, “the other thing.” While explaining the sculpting for the water feature, he saw a solution to (perhaps) a problem that’d gone unrecognized.
And isn’t this one of the creative aspects of kindness—solving others’ unseen problems? (Of course, there’s also some sorta metaphor/lesson about facing the proper direction in order to upraise your arms in happiness.)
Eduardo, It’s true that creativity is about perceiving the world and all that makes it up. Do you know Frederick Franck’s book, The Zen of Seeing? It’s not new, but I think you’d really find it richly inspiring. (If the library doesn’t have it, they could get it for you, I bet.) I like your take on kindness including seeing (or somehow sensing if vision is not your best skill) others unrecognized problems. That’s something I hadn’t thought of. And yes, we can’t find joy if we’re not looking for it, or if we’re simply not positioned in a way t hat allows us to recognize it. So apt, that particular metaphor, I think!