tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55821184839223963282024-02-22T13:34:10.215+01:00Oh for ObservationExploring creativity and meditationAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12067626362358962564noreply@blogger.comBlogger251125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5582118483922396328.post-10141704693459086232021-02-25T23:33:00.001+01:002021-02-25T23:33:07.370+01:00Saudade<p> 'Saudade (English: /ˌsaʊˈdɑːdə/,[1] European Portuguese: [sɐwˈðaðɨ], Brazilian Portuguese: [sawˈdad(ʒ)i], Galician: [sawˈðaðɪ]; plural saudades)[2] </p><p>is a deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for an absent something or someone that one cares for and/or loves. Moreover, it often carries a repressed knowledge that the object of longing might never be had again. It is the recollection of feelings, experiences, places, or events that once brought excitement, pleasure, and well-being, which now trigger the senses and make one experience the pain of separation from those joyous sensations. However it acknowledges that to long for the past would detract from the excitement you feel towards the future. Saudade describes both happy and sad at the same time, which is most closely translated to the English saying ‘bitter sweet’.'</p><div>'..<span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">a yearning for a happiness that has passed, or <b><i>perhaps never even existed</i></b>.'</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Nostalgia for a past, inhabited by people, places, objects, that perhaps never even existed.</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Reading Dickens and longing for the wild and overgrown dusty Kentish lanes that were never actually experienced.</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Looking at photographs, lived in, experienced, how can the feelings evoked be expressed? </span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUK1_ML7a_HefTM-EpsrkBmSn8SMEHBfj-598jzVc4YjfFPsJerpRQvZDxVAR71SvfSsOpwfgnzB4JlmkkXgMf8_pFkSqZOUQVCHaRZ9NyIQsxdS6J1d4M_ZHUBr41tLdqxaLAO96mAN-g/s807/map21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="633" data-original-width="807" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUK1_ML7a_HefTM-EpsrkBmSn8SMEHBfj-598jzVc4YjfFPsJerpRQvZDxVAR71SvfSsOpwfgnzB4JlmkkXgMf8_pFkSqZOUQVCHaRZ9NyIQsxdS6J1d4M_ZHUBr41tLdqxaLAO96mAN-g/s320/map21.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> </span></div>Francesca Meitouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04436699822690968581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5582118483922396328.post-79137836580857504102017-10-22T21:41:00.000+02:002017-10-22T21:41:26.383+02:00the white cat<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Francesca Meitouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04436699822690968581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5582118483922396328.post-13430140496898156972017-10-12T06:53:00.001+02:002017-10-12T06:53:56.296+02:00Three pomegranates <p dir="ltr">three pomegranates<br>
on the wooden table<br>
autumn's <u>colours</u></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikJvsEGdLop36ahQ7_oNQEHwAWt8om8ogwqe2-6OhhJiNZWwwUyEq_yhgQCQFON04t0EBvzgAY9FmnllWpxufIzqvJqJYryQSAXrWmD9P7t4Fk7bp8yQ23kr0SvYkNdkCICUq4B9BaE6fQ/s1600/IMG_20171009_191127.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikJvsEGdLop36ahQ7_oNQEHwAWt8om8ogwqe2-6OhhJiNZWwwUyEq_yhgQCQFON04t0EBvzgAY9FmnllWpxufIzqvJqJYryQSAXrWmD9P7t4Fk7bp8yQ23kr0SvYkNdkCICUq4B9BaE6fQ/s640/IMG_20171009_191127.jpg"> </a> </div>Francesca Meitouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04436699822690968581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5582118483922396328.post-70972723363222172742017-10-02T21:59:00.000+02:002017-10-02T21:59:07.794+02:00horizons<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Francesca Meitouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04436699822690968581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5582118483922396328.post-87296187608354387902017-10-01T21:45:00.000+02:002017-10-01T21:45:50.674+02:00autumn<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhebOAMh8k9axit-aYL0E5zwS2j3qyMhQWuBOv3c5lfwKCkrdkLlqz8zbKmmJIS-yUwxvegcTuXOjqAZEUjjKcu60kZYMDm2bxhT-dFqhyphenhyphen7ahCsudetPsgs_EWV8FrhYfNeSjSfF9KGC86B/s1600/stefpep.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="666" data-original-width="400" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhebOAMh8k9axit-aYL0E5zwS2j3qyMhQWuBOv3c5lfwKCkrdkLlqz8zbKmmJIS-yUwxvegcTuXOjqAZEUjjKcu60kZYMDm2bxhT-dFqhyphenhyphen7ahCsudetPsgs_EWV8FrhYfNeSjSfF9KGC86B/s400/stefpep.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
Francesca Meitouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04436699822690968581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5582118483922396328.post-75219507182681738312017-09-19T01:29:00.001+02:002017-09-19T01:29:16.952+02:00As I was saying.. <p dir="ltr">It's been a year, but there has been writing and drawing and photography. And now there is Zen and Treeleaf and Ango and Jukai and even sewing. And there's still Art of Mindfulness and now Stop, look, breathe, create and instagram. So I could fill up some pages with old stuff and still there's new stuff.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Brittle, fading, <br>
Leaves slip sadly from the vine.<br>
Still, I sweep. </p>
Francesca Meitouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04436699822690968581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5582118483922396328.post-19268740342832024932016-08-22T13:02:00.000+02:002016-08-30T13:04:35.165+02:00Awake August #18Scratchy heatblasted August, early summer's fecundity has withered with the already falling leaves.There are no flowers to offer, only these mediterranean gifts, some basil and parsley and a few small olive branches and their reminder of peace and hope.<br />
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Francesca Meitouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04436699822690968581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5582118483922396328.post-66349788378174114982016-08-21T19:33:00.000+02:002016-08-21T19:33:19.576+02:00Awake August #17The oscillating fan is a lighthouse, sending out beams of coolness that cut and slice the dark heavy heat.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWZfGekXSjYfXLzq-x3JzHMG22tTWBKj2DmUtm-DTucxDI8cUJ2dq7IZTZjzcmKW8yq6mlGD6Xs1Su9dMFLvVA-4ECWEh9ojh7m0z7z0ncxGlxPs2VCvKIGO2JdrsjyysfxktAq4wYp221/s1600/fan.jpg+enhanced.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWZfGekXSjYfXLzq-x3JzHMG22tTWBKj2DmUtm-DTucxDI8cUJ2dq7IZTZjzcmKW8yq6mlGD6Xs1Su9dMFLvVA-4ECWEh9ojh7m0z7z0ncxGlxPs2VCvKIGO2JdrsjyysfxktAq4wYp221/s320/fan.jpg+enhanced.jpg" width="320" /></a>Francesca Meitouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04436699822690968581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5582118483922396328.post-4472721548087350712016-08-19T20:54:00.001+02:002016-08-19T20:54:20.341+02:00Awake August 16Preparing lunch in the honeyed light of the kitchen, my husband sanding wood in the next room, a cat weaving around my legs, the 12.30 bus revving up the hill, and the squeak of garlic against knife.<br />
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<br />Francesca Meitouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04436699822690968581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5582118483922396328.post-29473890463669813572016-08-18T21:58:00.000+02:002016-08-18T21:59:20.775+02:00Awake August 15<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">While celebrating the full moon with a simple ceremony, I breath the fragrant weight and completeness of the cup, the warmth of the circle within and without, endless spaciousness in my hands.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12067626362358962564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5582118483922396328.post-90060125001738087062016-08-17T21:56:00.000+02:002016-08-18T21:56:37.220+02:00Awake August 14<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">Skeins of cloud usher in a cooler morning; the fridge hums a happier song.</span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12067626362358962564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5582118483922396328.post-20927758430005158602016-08-16T21:53:00.000+02:002016-08-18T21:54:36.634+02:00Awake August 13Grey falls like a soft blanket over the blue, summer raindrops thud slowly onto the garden umbrella.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12067626362358962564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5582118483922396328.post-11929923307264652992016-08-12T21:51:00.000+02:002016-08-18T21:51:42.185+02:00Awake August 12Pausing, I stood between the damp billowing sheets, enjoying their cool lavender caress.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12067626362358962564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5582118483922396328.post-61987133662881317792016-08-11T21:50:00.000+02:002016-08-18T21:50:32.908+02:00Awake August 11<br />
Making tea I realise that part of the intrinsic pleasure is cupping the warm body of the teapot, feeling how its roundness fits into the palm of my hand.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12067626362358962564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5582118483922396328.post-87505127482770500342016-08-10T21:48:00.000+02:002016-08-18T21:49:29.181+02:00Awake August 10Three small butterflies dance along the geranium hedge, accompanied by the music of the city and the unwavering attention of the white cat.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12067626362358962564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5582118483922396328.post-69573503630548073212016-08-09T21:47:00.000+02:002016-08-18T21:47:56.397+02:00Awake August 9On the vets table she is stilled by fear, her eyes, usually an inscrutable jade, are huge and deeply black in her small triangle face. Holding her, I feel her heart pounding like a tiny drum. She suffers in profound silence.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12067626362358962564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5582118483922396328.post-71279085383806671272016-08-08T21:45:00.000+02:002016-08-18T21:45:55.792+02:00Awake August 8Rival gangs of young blackbirds fighting raucously for figs scatter suddenly to their separate roofs. The cat is sneaking up the tree.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC51fdSefgtwf-P2nQIq1DyNz39Trw44gBLhze7yPx1n-r48jAebMufzmY31iaCzuB0TTVnILSekD96GylZ4szquakCzYThy6jmtWJpDRmMx5vys2e1irlqrY4Zmg3IJxDKuUeXV5NVdI/s1600/8th.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="366" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC51fdSefgtwf-P2nQIq1DyNz39Trw44gBLhze7yPx1n-r48jAebMufzmY31iaCzuB0TTVnILSekD96GylZ4szquakCzYThy6jmtWJpDRmMx5vys2e1irlqrY4Zmg3IJxDKuUeXV5NVdI/s400/8th.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12067626362358962564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5582118483922396328.post-47287785968326115922016-08-07T21:43:00.000+02:002016-08-18T21:43:44.873+02:00Awake August 7Washing the dishes - loving and revisiting and remembering the texture and colour of each item, its history, its use, the feel of it in water and out - knowing that I'm washing the dishes.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12067626362358962564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5582118483922396328.post-64599991823601799932016-08-06T21:42:00.000+02:002016-08-18T21:42:36.834+02:00Awake August 6Grating cucumber, the smell of cool green<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12067626362358962564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5582118483922396328.post-8777070887173964732016-08-05T21:11:00.000+02:002016-08-18T21:11:31.614+02:00Awake August 5<br />
The landscape of siesta, late afternoon sun setting on a crumpled bed of roses.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12067626362358962564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5582118483922396328.post-80642609941686070712016-08-04T21:10:00.000+02:002016-08-18T21:10:28.916+02:00Awake August 4Sitting by an open window something in the movement of the air reminds me of my schooldays. Summer, the science lab, cherry trees.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12067626362358962564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5582118483922396328.post-46063028530760583202016-08-03T21:08:00.000+02:002016-08-18T21:08:55.474+02:00Awake August 3Roiling water, mint tasting steam.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12067626362358962564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5582118483922396328.post-90899892317414845262016-08-02T21:06:00.000+02:002016-08-18T21:06:44.944+02:00Awake August 2Stringing chillies, singing workman, breaking tiles and tinkling teaspoons, coffee flavoured breeze.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12067626362358962564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5582118483922396328.post-8569932535704016172016-08-01T21:00:00.000+02:002016-08-18T22:02:39.418+02:00Awake August 2016As in other years, I've taken on a Mindful Writing Challenge, initiated by Kaspalita Thompson and Satya Robyn ofWriting Our Way Home. I may not be able to post something every day, so the titles refer to the number of the piece, not the date it was written. Sometimes there will be images too. Here's some more info about this years challenge.....<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #4b4f56; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18.76px;">Wake up and become more mindful this August</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #4b4f56; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18.76px;">Write a *small stone* everyday – forget your worries, deeply connect with the world around you, and produce beautiful writing</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4b4f56; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18.76px;">This August join people all over the world as they write a few words, a short poem, or a few prose sentences about what they find in the world.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #4b4f56; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18.76px;">Post your writing in our Facebook group: </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/1561310334178086/" rel="nofollow" style="background-color: white; color: #365899; cursor: pointer; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18.76px; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">https://www.facebook.com/</span><wbr></wbr><span class="word_break" style="display: inline-block; font-family: inherit;"></span>groups/1561310334178086/</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #4b4f56; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18.76px;"> or on twitter with the </span><a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"tn":"*N","type":104}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/awakeaugust?source=feed_text" style="background-color: white; color: #365899; cursor: pointer; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18.76px; text-decoration: none;">#AwakeAugust</a><br />
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So here's my first....<br />
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In the 7.00 am stillness of a ticking clock and a distant pigeon calling, the sudden noise of a passing lorry fills space like an inflating balloon, pops, then is gone. The pigeon calls still, the clock ticks on.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHDia7VaZXJfKWnd4L905WZHCExm78cHtuq517FswdsTYjC1fTajvq2Xy9BkB0NO36hCftk85KzKI0MgLHSlB0H0is0mgVYD65RximNoI8wEKYFPaeXdLAFc-5obl15XAcWZk97ix63fM/s1600/1st+august.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHDia7VaZXJfKWnd4L905WZHCExm78cHtuq517FswdsTYjC1fTajvq2Xy9BkB0NO36hCftk85KzKI0MgLHSlB0H0is0mgVYD65RximNoI8wEKYFPaeXdLAFc-5obl15XAcWZk97ix63fM/s320/1st+august.jpg" width="178" /></a></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12067626362358962564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5582118483922396328.post-37311824148692632632016-07-31T20:28:00.000+02:002016-08-18T20:28:42.785+02:00Enso and the Art of Mindfulness. <span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">On the first of July 2016 I started a project inspired by Wendy Ann Greenhalgh and her book Mindfulness and the Art of Drawing. You can read Wendy's post here https://artofmindfulness.wordpress.com/2016/06/05/an-enso-a-day-mindful-drawing-for-everyone/ In the meantime, here is an extract about E</span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">nso. </span></span><br />
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<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #777777; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 20px; margin-bottom: 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Extract from Chapter Six – Coming Full Circle, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Mindfulness-Art-Drawing-Creative-Awareness/dp/1782402837/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1467649851&sr=1-1&keywords=mindfulness+and+the+art+of+drawing" style="border: 0px; color: #2a85e8; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; opacity: 0.8; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Mindfulness & the Art of Drawing</a>.</em></div>
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<em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Simplicity is an expression of the clarity and spaciousness of mind that allows the body to move and create uninhibitedly. In the Japanese Zen tradition, this idea of an artist free to make marks that are an expression of the uniqueness of their own being is explored through the drawing or painting of circles – called ensō. Ensō – sometimes called Zen Circles – are usually made with one continuous movement of brush or pen. Ensō is a sacred symbol in Zen Buddhism, where it’s know to represent infinity and enlightenment. It can also represents the oneness of life, completeness, emptiness, harmony and, of course, simplicity. There is an extraordinary beauty and elegance to ensō, and it is its simplicity, the minimal nature of the single brushstroke on the page, the closed (or sometimes partially open) circle, that makes it so.</em></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #777777; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 20px; margin-bottom: 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> Ensō, as a symbol, also represents the artist too, the maker of the mark. The artist’s mind is revealed in it, captured in the act of creating it, along with their acceptance of imperfection, for it is almost impossible to draw a perfect circle. The ensō is a drawing that is the manifestation of a single moment and of all that we are and are not within than moment. Within its form is held the life of the drawer, their mind, heart and body, as it flows through their arm, through the pen or brush and onto the page. Every ensō is different, each circle varying in the tones of ink, mark or brushstroke, the shape of the circle, even in the point in the circumference where the artist chose to start. Ensō are in this way a complete expression of our individuality.</em></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Here is a sample of some of the work I made for this project.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12067626362358962564noreply@blogger.com0