Shree Krishna Guruji has said that meditation takes many forms. It is not merely just sitting in some asana with eyes shut.
It can arise through the ordinary rhythm of our everyday life, and for me meditation began through the act of painting.
After many long years of a professional life and family responsibilities, a time came for me when my attention could be turned elsewhere. Memories from childhood assure me that I was capable of drawing and although I had only painted a handful of times, it seemed reasonable to believe that it could be done.
It was a clumsy beginning. The first piece was of an acrylic painting of an imagined rooster on a fence with a barn in the background. Within a few months it was on to oil paints as the thickness of the paint and its application attracted me.
I was self-taught, from books, videos and practice. After a year on my own, I sought out opportunities to study with several skilled artists. There was a woodland landscape artist, two plein air artists (of different styles) and a classical figure and portrait artist.
Many hours at the easel turned into hours of stillness where there was nothing between myself, the canvas, and the subject. During this time the mind is quiet, restless thoughts dissolve, the only question is, “what am I seeing?” and the question is repeated over and over, refining the image until the completed work has emerged on the canvas.
The art of painting entered my life two years prior to beginning my journey with Guruji. Up until then, I was without a religious practice or a personal identification with God. It is my conviction that the creative act prepared me in a way that enabled something extraordinary to happen.
A year and a half into painting, subtle impulses arose which prompted me to look beyond my own kith and kin and offer kind words and a compassionate ear to strangers when the impulse arose.
The nudges received prompting me to act with love toward others were not reasoned out in my mind, they were spontaneous. God was prompting me towards the day I would experience His presence.
It was Guruji’s instruction to continue painting. It was the sadhana he had given me. For many years I painted almost daily. A single sitting may span from 4 to 8 hours. Turns out that painting is indeed a meditation.
Of all the hundreds of hours spent painting, none have been more blessed, intimate and revealing than than those hours spent painting images of Lord Shree Krsna, whether He is standing with Radha, a peacock, a cow or in the form of our beloved Gurudev, Shree KrsnaGuruji.
For hours upon hours I have studied Guruji’s form.
From the depth of His dark honey colored eyes, to the shape of the shadow beneath His nose, to His taut mauve lips from which His profound wisdom is shared and the form of His teeth as He beautifully smiles.
From the light tone of His skin spanning the furrow lines between and above His black eyebrows, to the slight hollow of His checks, almost like dimples, which are accentuated when He laughs, to the deep crease above His chin, to and the shape of His chiseled jaw.
From the way in which His splendid neck meets His trapezius muscles which shape His square shoulders, and alas, the backs of His dark parched hands and feet ever in need of lotion and their pink undersides. All this I have studied.
For this devotee, who can not physically be there in India with Guruji, there is no greater pleasure than to stare for hours at His beautiful, benevolent face which is ever beaming back at with love. Nothing else, in all of creation, is so dear.
The body is just the instrument through which action takes place. When holding the brush in hand, mixing colors, and applying paint it becomes clear that this is a meditation, the inspiration comes from Him and what arises on the canvas is His will not mine.
The Divine Itself executes His will through all forms. When this understanding dawns, you will knowingly surrender.
There are no ordinary acts; do not grow dull and unappreciative of the wonder and grandeur of this life.
