Anywhoo- we went to the two hour meditation group shepherded by a boneless, sanguine hippy lady who looked like she could have been blown down by a slight breeze, but was also clearly as strong as a giant Redwood tree. She looked at about halfway through the meditation and I could practically see her thinking "Not Buddists".
In my experience there is a calm pond, quiet breeze sort of aura or air about those who practice Zen Buddism. I don't have it. Wish I did. I don't.
The Zen sand garden drives me nuts.
Moving a mountain of rice one piece at a time across a room. I'd go insane.
I'm working on it-trust me. But not there yet.
Where am I going with this? Patience. No, not you, me. I don't have an endless supply. My glass is half empty. But, a friend of mine sent me an article about an artist named Dalton Ghetti who makes sculptures out of pencils- specifically the lead of pencils. These things are teeny, itty-bitty, Borrower size sculptures that must take forever to create. They are an example of how in simplicity can be found perfection.
In an article from 2007 in the New York Times, Ghetti talks about a piece that he's working on in reaction to the 9/11 bombings. There will be a single rice-grain-sized teardrop for every soul claimed by the attacks. From a distance it will look like a giant tear, but up close you'll see its made of tiny little ones. He tries to carve one tear a day and expects the project to take about 10 years before it's completed.
That's patience.
He has carved the entire alphabet, letter by letter into the tip of a pencil (that project took two and a half years). There's a bust of Elvis, a heart in the center of a pencil, a boot, and a beautiful 24 link chain made out of a single pencil lead.
They're magnificent, and I just wanted to share them with you.
They make me want to work harder to find my inner Zen Buddist.
Or at least, if nothing else they've given me a new appreciation of the beauty that can be found inside something as simple as an everyday pencil.
