Category: Life Is The First Art

Truth and the Devil

11/17/2017

I think truth is a layered phenomenon. There are many truths that accumulate and build up. I am trying to peel back and explore these rich layers of truth. All truths are difficult to reach.
-Sally Mann

Life. It's a series of experiences. Scenes of intentions and accidents.

What, exactly, is going on during any of our experiences is wildly complex no matter what measuring devices we bring. We may have objective material evidence to empirically prove that a certain thing happened in a certain way but there are energies and histories and momentums of objects well out of sight and forces beyond our comprehension that are playing out within and without us all through this wonderful life.

A fact is a fact. The sky is blue. At least the part that I'm looking at now from where I'm sitting right now.

Truth is a matter of perspective and changes depending not on where you may have been standing in the midst of an experience but more often on where you're standing right at this very moment. Our perspective can change with time and distance.

It's interesting though that our understanding of the truth can be changed by facts and by our growth as humans being.

If our minds are open to the truth we have to be able to hold, at least temporarily, an opposing point of view from the one we're convinced by. At least several times a week while growing up I heard my mother say, "Now, just let me play the Devil's Advocate for a minute." Every time I heard that, a little part of my brain went into courtroom mode, examining a case from another perspective. She was probably speaking to my father but, still, it was good mental training for me.

Learning to play the Devil's Advocate has it's drawbacks but not too many. It is not training for simple judgement and definitely eliminates the possibility of herd mentality. Moo. It is always helpful to at least try to see anything from another's viewpoint.

In a few of my art history practicum classes, we examine artists' changing viewpoints on particular subjects. As you might imagine, except to explain where, when and why it arose, gabbing about one-point perspective drives me almost over the edge. It's is a construct designed to create an illusion. So is having a hard grip on one point of view about the truth.

On the road to self-realization we're forced to confront certain truths that we hold about ourselves. Some of these truths can be painful, shameful, destructive, worth disowning. In the process of self-examination, playing the Devil's Advocate can be a healing exercise. This is true about myself but that equal and opposite thing is also true.

Lifting up that paradox to the light with love and wonder is a way to develop true compassion. If we can develop compassion for the most challenging parts of ourselves we may begin to feel compassion for others who seem so shameful, destructive, opposite. It wouldn't hurt. Mmm... maybe it could at first. Opening our hearts can be scary and painful but just think of the potential.

Truth is a many-layered thing. Dense yet filled with light. Just like these leaves.

Truth does not belong to a particular team. Truth does not stand still and neither do we as we grow, change, and maybe acquire some wisdom and compassion along the way.

Is that so?

9/26/2017

Suzanne McDermott
Tree Glow, Watercolor

You just never know.

It's hard to not judge an experience or situation that, on the surface, in the context of our present culture or personal emotional life may seem like a horrible blow or a tragedy or a major pain in the butt. Something "bad". Or, something "good".

These small and large interruptions in THE WAY THINGS ARE have potential to change us within, and the course of our lives. But only if we let them. Only if we do not try to resist the situation, control the outcome, or cling to any solid thing or certain thought about THE WAY THINGS ARE GOING TO BE NOW. I mean, really, nobody knows what's going to happen next.

My favorite stories illustrating this, the ones that my mind turns to when I find myself reverberating from an unexpected "bad" or "good" situation is as follows:

Is That So?
(Zen Story about Hakuin)

The Zen Master Hakuin lived in a town in Japan. He was held in high regard and many people came to him for spiritual teaching. Then it happened that the teenage daughter of his next-door neighbor became pregnant. When being questioned by her angry and scolding parents as to the identity of the father, she finally told them that he was Hakuin, the Zen master. In great anger the parents rushed over to Hakuin and told him with much shouting and accusing that their daughter had confessed that he was the father. All he replied was, “Is that so?”

News of the scandal spread throughout the town and beyond. The Master lost his reputation. This did not trouble him. Nobody came to see him anymore. He remained unmoved. When the child was born, the parents brought the baby to Hakuin, “You are the father, so look after him.” The Master took loving care of the child. A year later, the mother remorsefully confessed to her parents that the real father of the child was the young man who worked at the butcher shop. In great distress they went to see Hakuin to apologize and ask for forgiveness. “We are really sorry. We have come to take the baby back. Our daughter confessed that you are not the father.” “Is that so?” is all he would say as he handed the baby over to them.

The Farmer's Son
(Taoist variation on a theme)

An old farmer who had worked his crops for many years set his aging horse free to pasture. Upon hearing the news, his neighbors said, "Such bad luck, to lose your only horse." "May be," the farmer replied.

The next morning the horse returned, bringing with it three other wild horses. "How wonderful," the neighbors exclaimed. "May be," replied the old man.

The following day, the farmer's son tried to ride one of the untamed horses, was thrown, and broke his leg. The neighbors again came to offer their sympathy on his misfortune. "May be," answered the farmer.

The day after, military officials came to the village to draft young men into the army. Seeing that the son's leg was broken, they passed him by. The neighbors congratulated the farmer on how well things had turned out. "May be," said the farmer.

And then, of course, the young village men were killed in the war and the farmer's son, limp and all, was the only able bodied man remaining. The farmer and his son prospered. When his neighbors praised his fortune, well, you know how the farmer replied. "May be".

Here's Eckhart Tolle’s commentary on Hakuin’s Zen story and its Taoist variation:
“The story of the Zen Master whose only response was always “Is that so?” shows the good that comes through inner nonresistance to events, that is to say, being at one with what happens. The story of the man whose comment was invariably a laconic “Maybe” illustrates the wisdom of non-judgment, and to the fact of impermanence which, when recognized, leads to non-attachment. Nonresistance, non-judgement, and non-attachment are the three aspects of true freedom and enlightened living.”

― Eckhart Tolle (A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life’s Purpose)

Enormous Changes at the Last Minute

9/21/2017

Suzanne McDermott
Backyard, 2006, Watercolor

“There is a long time in me between knowing and telling.”
― Grace Paley, Enormous Changes at the Last Minute

What is happening

There is no question about it.

Some changes are predictable,
Expected.
Sumer, Fall, Winter, Spring,
with plenty of time to
turn, turn, turn.

Lately, though, change arrives in a flash.
A drop dead, earthquake, bomb of a moment.
Crash.
If you're still upright,
the resonance alone is enough to knock you down.

Time stands
Still we keep revolving around the sun,
the moon orbits
and breezes sweep us up with their
demanding, obligating pals:

Sleep
Wake
Eat
Wash

While exploding now onto
new playing fields we did not imagine.
Why would we?

Just last year, (or was it the year before?)
There was only fall around the corner
coming with dry, bright leaves,
crisp, fireplace air,
fleecy sleeves and scarves,
more moisturizer.

—Suzanne McDermott
21 September 20017

©2017 Suzanne McDermott/All Rights Reserved

The last days of white linen

8/30/2017

The last days of white linen,
of wide brimmed hats
slanted against the sun,
stroll into the long weekend bookend of summer--
Toes in salt water and sand (if you’re lucky).

The last days of white linen
flap against still summer breezes and
wrinkle into sun-kissed skin
lined with all of the preceding seasons of stories
and marbled with yumminess, forgiven in the moment.

The last days of white linen
whisper of gentle folding and tucking away
with trust in the future.

This will be good next season.
I will be here to wear it.

Acrid, smoky, nearby smudges of fire will expire
with the rising of crocuses, daffodils.
Damp from the floods will evaporate after the
ice and snow (if you’re lucky).

The last days of white linen
will resurrect their fabric and form
early next summer,
as they always have

In seasons of heat
and bare shoulders.

—Suzanne McDermott
30 August 20017

©2017 Suzanne McDermott/All Rights Reserved

Beauty begets beauty

8/15/2017

"Hate begets hate; violence begets violence; toughness begets a greater toughness. We must meet the forces of hate with the power of love... Our aim must never be to defeat or humiliate the white man, but to win his friendship and understanding."

—Martin Luther King, Jr.

Because my mind was going a mile a minute when I sat down to meditate this morning, I plopped a vase of mums directly in the line of my meditative gaze. I'm not sure that this helped me step out of the thought stream but they sure were beautiful to look at. Before I stood up to move along with my day, I gathered them between my hands, buried my face in them and inhaled deeply. I love the smell of mums!

It is too, too easy to be sucked into the virtual world of (often) horror and mayhem. Make it a practice to focus on the beautiful objects in your space. After all, you put them there, didn't you? If you haven't filled your space with objects of beauty that the light can find, please, do yourself a favor and do so now.

The objects that the light finds and illuminates will illuminate your mind, whether you love them or not. Practice seeing what the light illuminates. Practice loving that.

Short post. I'm looking away now. Looking for the beautiful in my immediate vicinity.

"I don't think of all the misery but of the beauty that still remains."

—Anne Frank

What matters are tomatoes.

8/7/2017

Let's get our priorities straight.

Our government and much of the world seems to be in utter chaos if we take the major news outlets as our source of information.

But if I move away from the computer or radio and tv news and look around my rooms, there are so many more interesting and wonderful things to behold, to read, to make beautiful things with.

If I step out my door and bump into neighbors (and often, their dogs), happy transactions (and often, lickie licky? kisses) await.

A few steps more around the corner and I find my fabulous garden, exhausted from the heat but still bringing forth peppers, collards, leeks, herbs and, yes, tomatoes!

I just read an essay by Garrison Keillor and the line that jumped out at me was "What matters are tomatoes". Well, I thought, that's it.

And it's true.

It's difficult to think anything but pleasant thoughts while eating a homegrown tomato.
--Lewis Grizzard

Happy full moon. Think pleasant thoughts. Enjoy your tomatoes.

Why fight it?

7/11/2017

I think it's hysterical that my intention was to write about the value of practice and instead, I am surrendering to a quick post on...surrender!

After almost two weeks of serious over-scheduling, my mind, body and soul are telling me, "break time!"

Anyway, it is very, very, very hot where I live and work and I must move to the drawing table and surrender to my pencils, brushes and colors, if only for my mental health. Well, spiritual health, too. Okay... for fun. Actually, I have already been working at the computer here for hours today and I must switch gears.

Sometimes, even when you feel (or are) obligated, even if only to yourself, it's good to say, "Sorry, Charlie!"

Must go scribble.

"Always say 'yes' to the present moment... Surrender to what is. Say 'yes' to life - and see how life starts suddenly to start working for you rather than against you." —Eckhart Tolle

One thing at a time

7/4/2017

“A weakness of all human beings is trying to do too many things at once.”
—Henry Ford

There's no such thing as multi-tasking

The ocean waves do not try to reach shore at the same time.

The leaves on a tree do not try to change color at once.

Each wave, each leaf is a unique manifestation of an unfolding process of living experience. Human beings moving through space and time are also unfolding processes of living experiences.

But the human mind? Especially with gazillions of distractions here in the early 21st century? We are so easily distracted that we miss much of the beautiful unfolding process of life.

I make this claim with confidence because I am one of the most easily distracted people I know.

I practice meditation briefly every day but nothing, no meditation I have come across, calms and focuses my attention like drawing or painting. It may not be for everyone but it sure works for me.

In my experience, multitasking is a myth. Trying to multitask, or even expecting yourself to be able to multitask, can leave you dizzy, drained, overwhelmed, ungrounded. You may think that you are working on several projects simultaneously but, in fact, you can only take action on one thing or think one thought at a time (no matter how brief that time may be).

Expect yourself to do one thing at a time and plan for that. It's a sure way to sanity.

"Two things cannot happen at once; it is impossible. It is easy to imagine that two things are happening at once, because our journey back and forth between the two may be very speedy. But even then we are doing only one thing at a time.

"The idea of mindfulness is to slow down the fickleness of jumping back and forth. We have to realize that we are not extraordinary mental acrobats. We are not all that well trained. And even an extraordinarily well-trained mind could not manage that many things at once--not even two. But because things are very simple and direct, we can focus on, be aware and mindful of, one thing at a time. That one-pointedness, that bare attention, seems to be the basic point."

— Chogyam Trungpa, from "The Four Foundations of Mindfulness Meditation"

I have a long list of reasons why I continue to teach drawing and watercolor after 20 years. One reason is that the process allows people the opportunity to quiet their minds and practice focusing on one task at a time.

Practicing drawing and watercolor is mindfulness training on steroids.

What I'm reading this summer (2017)

6/20/2017

Clouds from my garden.

Summer rolls in on the 21st at 12:24 am. Do something special to mark the longest day of the year.

Any plans for the season? I'm preparing a set of new online drawing and watercolor courses that debut (to alums of my foundation courses) in September. Also, I am taking my first, actual, planned vacation in late August and truly looking forward to that. But on the other hand, I'm enjoying life immensely right now, so I can wait.

I am leaving behind the habits of checking the news more than once daily (if that often), and of streaming movies and tv shows online. I'm sick to death of both and am back to reading.

I've just discovered Andrew Garve (aka Paul Winterton, aka Roger Bax, aka Paul Somers), and finished his Hide And Go Seek this afternoon. I discovered this book in a free basket (as I have several other fab reads over the years), opened to a random page, read a paragraph aloud, put it under my arm and am committed to three more of his.

Here's what else I have stacked up for summer:

Alice Carter, The Red Rose Girls
Andrew Garvey, Murder in Moscow, Ashes of Loda, Cuckoo Line Affair
Umberto Eco, History of Beauty
M. J. Rose, The Book of Lost Fragrances
re-read, again, Landscape into Art
Jacob Wenzel, Landscapes From Brueghel to Kandinsky
Stephen Greenblatt, The Swerve
finish Jeffrey Archer's Be Careful What You Wish For √ and
next installment of The Clifton Chronicles, Mightier Than The Sword
Joyce Cary, Art and Reality
Alice Munro, Runaway
re-read Ram Dass, Still Here
and, if there's any time left, would like to re-read
Leonie Swann, Three Bags Full
Conrad Richter, The Light in the Forest and
Hansen & Davis, Boone

How are you celebrating the Solstice? What are your plans for the summer? Any good reading suggestions to share? Tell me everything! Leave a comment below.

About my Dad

6/15/2017

Edwin J. McDermott, Esq.
1907-1978

Recently, I have been missing my Dad. A lot. I think of him now, especially while I am swimming laps, remembering the simple, loose, lined '60's Jantzen swim trunks he wore in olive green or khaki.

Approaching Father's Day, rather than compose some sentimental essay, I am making a list of random facts about him, as they come to mind. The massively interesting, good stuff I remember. Okay, here goes.

was once arrested on Atlantic City beach for bathing without a top on.
had just come back from horseback riding on Atlantic City beach when he heard the news that Pearl Harbor had been bombed.
taught Naval officers accounting at Penn during WWII.
was one of the youngest lawyers to go before the Supreme Court of the United States in 1932 at the age of 24.
graduated third in his class, Order of the Coif, at University of Pennsylvania Law School in 1930.
entered St. Joseph's College in 1927, at the age of 15.
rowed single scull on the Schulykill River.
was a master bridge player.
regularly bought records from Sam Goody at his first record shop on 9th Avenue in NYC, relying on Sam for au courant recommendations.
said, "Here. I understand that you should listen to this." while handing me a copy of Meet the Beatles.
taught me how to work an amplifier and tone arm when I was about five years old and later, how to change a diamond stylus .
built a woofer and tweeter into the playroom wall of our first house.
learned the hard way about storing LPs above a tube amp.
built two giant sound boxes on casters for speakers when stereo hit the market.
taught me how to body surf.
took me to see a matinee of Forbidden Planet and explained to me how it was based on Shakespeare's The Tempest. Best first date ever. Decades later, I went to a matinee of same and sat a few rows behind a father with his very little daughter. The three of us were almost the only ones in the theater. Yes, I cried.
always said "Go into the ocean, it'll heal you up." when I hurt myself at the shore.
read Donald Francis Tovey's Essays in Musical Analysis for fun.
collected all of the Arthur Quiller Couch and John Dover Wilson editions of Shakespeare.
knew Shakespeare's plays by heart and would turn to the act, scene and line to show me source of title when I'd come home from school with reading assignments like Brave New World, or The Sound and the Fury.
loved to walk and took me jogging with him around our neighborhood park or up and down the beach at Longport when jogging became a thing.
took me regularly to the Robin Hood Dell in the summer. One time, it started raining while Van Cliburn was in the middle of a concerto. Daddy pointed out to me all the umbrellas popping up in the "Friends of the Dell" section and as the Friends scurried out, we dashed up and watched the rest of the concert, a few feet from the stage, sitting on the concrete steps, in the rain. It was fantastic!
loved convertibles filled with beautiful girls before he was married.
drank a lot when he was young until, according to my late aunt, his doctor told him that he really had to stop.
attended 6:30 am mass every morning, without ever saying a word about it, at St. John the Evangelist Catholic Church at 13th and Market Streets in Philadelphia.
collected every volume of Arnold Toynbee's A Study of History. When then master photographer, Mr. Okada asked Daddy to give me something to hold in one of my baby pictures, he handed over Toynbee's Greek Civilization and Character. I don't know for sure but this may have been with a sense of humor. At least I think it's funny.
loved history and the idea, philosophy of history.
kept his possessions simple and elegant. This approach applied to his clothing, tools and memorabilia. He splurged on books, records, his wife and children.
had two good coats (one camel hair, one black cashmere), a cream silk tuxedo scarf, a sports jacket, a couple of fine wool suits, a seersucker suit, Norm Thompson slippers, an Irish Tweed Walking Hat and a classic, Gregory Peck, fedora.
was an early "health nut" and we always had plenty of wheat germ, black strap molasses, honey with the comb, protein bread.
kept his treasures on and in the top drawer of his bureau. On top of his bureau, he kept two framed photos, one of his mother, the other of his father. (They were the only photos I ever saw of his parents.) In his top drawer, he kept a letter from Arnold J. Toynbee, a short story he once wrote, a sterling silver swizzle stick from his drinking days, a pair of gold and amber cufflinks, and his Order of the Coif medal. Later, after his brother, Charlie, passed, he added Charlie's eye glass frames. With these, he also kept a scrap of paper with quick notes about my maternal grandmother's origin after a surprise visit from an unknown cousin on my mother's side. But that's another story.
bought a copy of The Beach Boy's Surfin' USA for my 2nd grade school Pollyanna. I, of course, went for the LP shaped gift and listened to that album as much as any. Over the years, I occasionally wondered who's parent had bought that gift until, decades later, it dawned on me. Of course, Sam Goody.
rarely gave me advice but once told me, "Always work for yourself."
was very excited to hand me a copy of the 1973 U.S. Court of Claims document for the Williams & Wilkins Company v. The United States decision, indicating to me now that he knew then that my work would primarily concern intellectual property. And it has.
had a distinctive whistle: a long G# followed by a smooth ribbon of short G, G#, G, G#, G, repeated twice to call for my brother and/or me.
could play untold variations with impeccable skill and invention on the piano of "We are Collegiate" and that's about all I ever heard him play.
married late, had children in his late 40s and absolutely loved and adored my mother, my brother and me.
compiled and published the multi-volume Modern Federal contract law: Modern digest of decisions of United States Court of Claims and of Supreme Court of the United States (U.S. Court of Claims cases) 1969
specialized in the United States Court of Claims and wrote an article for the American Bar Association Journal, The Court of Claims: The Nation's Conscience.
ate half a grapefruit every morning. My Dad loved grapefruit.
ate oranges over the sink.
made sure that my brother and I found an orange at the bottom of our Christmas stockings every year.
enjoyed reading authors' works in chronological order: Graham Greene, Ian Flemming, Erle Stanley Gardner, Joyce Cary.
collected Modern Library books.
was excited by all new technology.
took some exceptional photographs that demonstrated a sophisticated sense of composition during the 1940s through early 1950s.
loved the TV show, Secret Agent Man, The Prisoner, and early Masterpiece Theater.
would love to have gone to Ireland.
was the son of Charles J. McDermott, originally a drayman, later a Teamster, finally a Motor Freighter. I think that his father owned one of the first trucking companies in Philadelphia. His mother's name was Margaret F. Murphy and I am very sorry to say that that is all I know about her except that she looked very sad in the photo of her young self atop my father's dresser and that my Aunt Peggy threw all photos and identifying information about her parents away after they died.
used Gaby Suntan Lotion and Noskote.
walked to the Overbrook, later the Wynnewood train station every morning during our life together and took the train into town at least five days per week.
taught me to drive in our 1968 Grecian Green Camaro on Sunday mornings in the John Wanamaker Parking lot in Wynnewood, PA.

There's more, and I'll add to this later, but that's enough for now. He taught me to love music, learning and physical exercise, to think critically, and to be myself. I wish that I could have been more helpful to him at the end. Always my first love.

<<Previous

Truth and the Devil

Is that so?

Enormous Changes at the Last Minute

What is happening

The last days of white linen

Beauty begets beauty

What matters are tomatoes.

Why fight it?

One thing at a time

What I'm reading this summer (2017)

About my Dad

Edwin J. McDermott, Esq.
1907-1978

Inspiring you to heal yourself, shine your light
and make your own magic

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What is happening

Edwin J. McDermott, Esq.1907-1978

Inspiring you to ​heal yourself, shine your lightand make your own magic

categories

archives

Edwin J. McDermott, Esq.
1907-1978

Inspiring you to heal yourself, shine your light
and make your own magic