Recall a small journey. As I write the story, be aware of how the external journey mirrored my soul's journey.
This short journey had a preliminary stage that began in the Azores in 1972, where I began oil painting. In July 1992, I participated in the Visual Journals Workshop, led by Hazel Belvo at Grand Portage, MN. I had taken only a few formal art classes prior to that. The Visual Journals Workshop was a life-changing experience.
The small journey begins in Minneapolis. There was an art fair in the park across the street from the Minneapolis Institute of Art, along 3rd Av south of Downtown. The Grand Marais Art Colony had an exhibit, where I picked up literature about their programs.
My wife, Denise, encouraged me to sign up for the workshop, because she had just started her job as Head of Reference at the Minnesota Historical Society. She did not get a vacation that year, so I took a week off on my own.
We were still living in the Battle Creek Neighborhood of St. Paul, so it was more than a six hour drive to the Naniboujou Lodge, where I stayed, about half way between Grand Marais and Grand Portage. The Naniboujou Lodge has been a favorite place to bring visitors for lunch ever since.
The first morning of the workshop, I struggled to find the place. I went to the Grand Portage Casino Hotel, and was directed to the Trail Center several miles away up Old Highway 61. I drove to within a quarter mile of the Trail Center and made a wrong turn. I didn't find it, so I drove back to the hotel, where I learned that the first session was already in progress in a suite in the hotel. I had been misinformed at the hotel registration desk. I was breathless and stressed out, but Hazel welcomed me.
As it turned out, I was the only man among eight women, some of whom were celebrities in the art world. Hazel gave not a hint that the workshop was intended for women only.
Turning short and missing by a quarter mile seems to be a recurring pattern for me. I can't think of another example, but overcoming struggle, the high stress and anxiety is a problem. It's a barrier to that part of the mind that prays and meditates, does art, and is aware of the reality of God.
I teach the principle of spiritual consciousness to the 5th graders at William Kelley Elementary School in Silver Bay, in my annual five weekly sessions for the Masterpiece Arts Program. I don't spend a lot of time on spiritual principles, and whether it's allowable in a public school or not, I make it real and practical. The principle is to balance the mind, usually described as left brain analytical and right brain creative. I think it is more dynamic, a whole brain multifunction. I promote the principle as a means to success in all kinds of academic excellence. I think it is critical to spiritual awakening and development for elementary school children and older youth.
The Visual Journals Workshop provided rewards for four days. The method and practices started each morning at the Trail Center, a log frame building in the wilderness, heated by a wood stove, which we needed even in July. We took daily field trips to sketch scenes by direct observation. The following morning we would finish the sketch, color it, or do a related sketch in some other medium. Then, tell a story about it, often quite personal.
One day the field trip was to the Witch Tree, one of the most sacred spots on Earth. Hazel's ex-husband George Morrison was there with his own art group, offering tobacco to the tree. Our class sat at scattered spots on a gateway of granite blocks in front of the tree, or at the waters edge below.
I learned much later what high level celebrities were present that day. What an effort it had taken to acquire that spot, protect, and preserve it. It was an honor for any of us to be there.
The experience was akin to being among the giants of the Baha'i world. On several occasions, I felt a spiritual reality in which I was honored by being in the presence of such giants, yet equal to them. Why was I there? I did not feel worthy. It was the same ethereal, almost out-of-body experience in which the eternal spirit functions beyond the physical, but a moment of total consciousness.
Another field trip was to Partridge Falls on the Pigeon River. It too is a sacred place, and a historical place at the end of the eight mile grand portage, the trail the voyageurs walked from the fort and trading post on the Lake Superior shore.
Melvin Sherer was our guide. He was in training to become an Elder of the Grand Portage Ojibway Band. He is a leader now. I have not seen him since that four day workshop. He was with us every day.
That day we sketched at scattered spots above and below the falls. I noticed a severe thunderstorm approaching from upstream. It was moving rapidly, and I could tell from the cloud formation that there would be violent winds. I warned Hazel and Melvin. Thank goodness they believed I knew what I was talking about.
Some of the women were too old to rush up the river bank, and hurry along the trail back to the van. The trail was rugged with exposed roots. The tall pines swayed wildly overhead, cracking loudly as they knocked into each other. We got back to the van just as large hail began to fall. Melvin drove us as fast as possible, while avoiding deep potholes that would soon fill with flooding rain up to the wheel wells.
How many realms of spirit and nature can you experience in one place, with one heavenly group of people? I have no doubt that I was in a Native American world of Spirit and Nature of a legendary kind. I have no doubt about the Divine Oneness of that reality.
This short journey had a preliminary stage that began in the Azores in 1972, where I began oil painting. In July 1992, I participated in the Visual Journals Workshop, led by Hazel Belvo at Grand Portage, MN. I had taken only a few formal art classes prior to that. The Visual Journals Workshop was a life-changing experience.
The small journey begins in Minneapolis. There was an art fair in the park across the street from the Minneapolis Institute of Art, along 3rd Av south of Downtown. The Grand Marais Art Colony had an exhibit, where I picked up literature about their programs.
My wife, Denise, encouraged me to sign up for the workshop, because she had just started her job as Head of Reference at the Minnesota Historical Society. She did not get a vacation that year, so I took a week off on my own.
We were still living in the Battle Creek Neighborhood of St. Paul, so it was more than a six hour drive to the Naniboujou Lodge, where I stayed, about half way between Grand Marais and Grand Portage. The Naniboujou Lodge has been a favorite place to bring visitors for lunch ever since.
The first morning of the workshop, I struggled to find the place. I went to the Grand Portage Casino Hotel, and was directed to the Trail Center several miles away up Old Highway 61. I drove to within a quarter mile of the Trail Center and made a wrong turn. I didn't find it, so I drove back to the hotel, where I learned that the first session was already in progress in a suite in the hotel. I had been misinformed at the hotel registration desk. I was breathless and stressed out, but Hazel welcomed me.
As it turned out, I was the only man among eight women, some of whom were celebrities in the art world. Hazel gave not a hint that the workshop was intended for women only.
Turning short and missing by a quarter mile seems to be a recurring pattern for me. I can't think of another example, but overcoming struggle, the high stress and anxiety is a problem. It's a barrier to that part of the mind that prays and meditates, does art, and is aware of the reality of God.
I teach the principle of spiritual consciousness to the 5th graders at William Kelley Elementary School in Silver Bay, in my annual five weekly sessions for the Masterpiece Arts Program. I don't spend a lot of time on spiritual principles, and whether it's allowable in a public school or not, I make it real and practical. The principle is to balance the mind, usually described as left brain analytical and right brain creative. I think it is more dynamic, a whole brain multifunction. I promote the principle as a means to success in all kinds of academic excellence. I think it is critical to spiritual awakening and development for elementary school children and older youth.
The Visual Journals Workshop provided rewards for four days. The method and practices started each morning at the Trail Center, a log frame building in the wilderness, heated by a wood stove, which we needed even in July. We took daily field trips to sketch scenes by direct observation. The following morning we would finish the sketch, color it, or do a related sketch in some other medium. Then, tell a story about it, often quite personal.
One day the field trip was to the Witch Tree, one of the most sacred spots on Earth. Hazel's ex-husband George Morrison was there with his own art group, offering tobacco to the tree. Our class sat at scattered spots on a gateway of granite blocks in front of the tree, or at the waters edge below.
I learned much later what high level celebrities were present that day. What an effort it had taken to acquire that spot, protect, and preserve it. It was an honor for any of us to be there.
The experience was akin to being among the giants of the Baha'i world. On several occasions, I felt a spiritual reality in which I was honored by being in the presence of such giants, yet equal to them. Why was I there? I did not feel worthy. It was the same ethereal, almost out-of-body experience in which the eternal spirit functions beyond the physical, but a moment of total consciousness.
Another field trip was to Partridge Falls on the Pigeon River. It too is a sacred place, and a historical place at the end of the eight mile grand portage, the trail the voyageurs walked from the fort and trading post on the Lake Superior shore.
Melvin Sherer was our guide. He was in training to become an Elder of the Grand Portage Ojibway Band. He is a leader now. I have not seen him since that four day workshop. He was with us every day.
That day we sketched at scattered spots above and below the falls. I noticed a severe thunderstorm approaching from upstream. It was moving rapidly, and I could tell from the cloud formation that there would be violent winds. I warned Hazel and Melvin. Thank goodness they believed I knew what I was talking about.
Some of the women were too old to rush up the river bank, and hurry along the trail back to the van. The trail was rugged with exposed roots. The tall pines swayed wildly overhead, cracking loudly as they knocked into each other. We got back to the van just as large hail began to fall. Melvin drove us as fast as possible, while avoiding deep potholes that would soon fill with flooding rain up to the wheel wells.
How many realms of spirit and nature can you experience in one place, with one heavenly group of people? I have no doubt that I was in a Native American world of Spirit and Nature of a legendary kind. I have no doubt about the Divine Oneness of that reality.
1 comment:
I'm so glad you're enjoying the Spiritual Memoir prompts. I like hearing this story. Even though I was around in those days, I don't think I was really aware of what you were up to at the workshop.
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