and so we awaken our embodied selves
Image by Deniz Altindas
I have spent the last week in workshops with artists of all kinds, writers, dancers, stunt artists, actors, creative art therapists, dance therapists, creative academics, gardeners, mothers, and spiritual workers…and we all have the same thing in common. We have gathered together to deepen our understanding of embodiment. What does it mean to be embodied?
We begin our time together with wise words, this time a quote from Jack Kornfield (Jack Kornfield):
Let go of the battle, breathe quietly and let it be. Let your body relax and your heart soften. Open to whatver you experience without fighting
We will remind ourselves of this quote throughout our time together, focusing on the provocation “let go of the battle, breathe quietly, and let it be”.
When we gather in the small Zoom room, the first thing we do is make a commitment that this virtual room is a perfect venue for vulnerable and intimate practice. We believe that Zoom workshops hold many strengths if one commits to them, without judging them as second to face-to-face. Once we decide to truly commit to an honest re-searching of self and other, magic happens. Together we create a confidential space for everyone to share and respond to stories and ideas that emerge from art depictions. We also reflect on each other’s creation from a strengths-based standpoint, with curiosity and intent.
In all our workshops we begin to slow down and become present by focusing on our breath. Shaun McNiff (2015) in his book Imagination in Action, notes that
“…we tend to be overly concerned with doing things, often too many things, and thus miss the opportunity to appreciate the expressiveness and imagination of stillness” (p. 69).
James Joyce in one of his short stories in his book Dubliners talks about his character Mr. Duffy living a short distance from his body, perhaps a very common occurrence in our age of the Internet and constant scrolling. To ensure that we are present and alert we begin with sitting or lying in stillness, inviting our curiosity to witness the games our mind plays. When we notice that our mind has moved into a story we bring it back to the breath. The coolness as it enters the body. The warmth as it leaves the nostrils. Tara Brach offers two words to help us stay present: breathe in the word “calm” and breathe out the word “ease”. Notice the stillness in the space between the in and the out-breath (for multiple resources and compassionate guidance check out Free Resources at Tara Brach's very fine website
The Embodiment of Self Process
In order to explore ideas and experiences relating to the embodiment of self, we turn to creative expression to access what ‘don’t know we know’. We remind ourselves that embodied self-awareness is a whole-body sensory process incorporating our body’s responses, our senses, our emotions, and feelings. With embodied self-awareness, we can notice the present moment ( you can find out more about this by referring to Alan Fogel’s work The Psychophysiology of Self-Awareness and Amanda Blake’s Your Body is your Brain). Blake believes that when we develop our embodied self, we take
“the first step towards developing more courage, compassion, composure, and all manner of personal qualities that support your success and satisfaction”
The power of clay for an embodied exploration of meaning-making is well documented. One of the pioneers of clay therapy describes it like this:
Claywork is like the Cinderella of the art therapies. She still waits to be discovered with her magic…and her ability to transform suffering into places of insight and celebration… Clay calls to be known, to become explored by the senses, to be pushed, pulled, moulded, hollowed out, and to be added to piece by piece. She brings many gifts to the therapeutic process (Patricia Sherwood in her book The Healing Art of Clay Therapy).
We begin with the clay in our hands, our eyes closed, not knowing what will emerge. I coach quietly on the sidelines, with words such as
Allow the clay to reveal what is inside. Remember Michaelangelo, who is credited as saying something like every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it. Trust the clay. Trust your fingers. Keep your eyes closed until you feel that the clay is revealing itself. Then you can, if you wish, open them with a soft focus and continue moulding the clay.
If we go along with the idea that art is the language of the soul, then manipulating the clay becomes a healing and perhaps even a spiritual practice. It is certainly an embodied process, kneading and morphing the clay requiring energy and patience. Sometimes it can be challenging trying to manipulate the medium into something that is wanting to emerge. The clay might cave in, or refuse to stick together, and so we are then in a position where we need to adjust. We learn flexibility. We are open to change.
Once we finish, we move into a group creative conversation, everyone listening with “big ears” as each artist explains their process, showing the depiction both through the Zoom camera and sometimes posting a photo of the piece, two different ways of seeing their sculpture. There is power in having 3 or 4 collaborative witnesses responding to your depiction. Often the witnesses see, hear, and intuit things that may be useful to the artist. Keeping in mind the importance of responding from a strengths-based and compassionate perspective, the witnesses reflect back in multiple ways, often engaging in mythology, mysticism, literature, and philosophy, all adding to the richness of the emerging meaning.
Through the sharing process, the witnesses are encouraged to pursue what they are curious about, and what the depiction suggests in relation to their own experiences. Their instinctive, and spontaneous responses help grow new meaning, which may also be relevant to the group as a whole. Throughout this process of exchanging and growing stories, participants are encouraged to benevolently “steal” some ideas from each other, making it clear which thoughts they wish to borrow, with the creator’s blessing. Because we have an environment of intimacy and openness, the creation of one art depiction more often than not pours light on another person’s work.
For me, the “cherry on the top” of the whole process is the creative writing segment, which follows the sharing and discussion of the art depictions. I offer the artists multiple stimuli to help guide their writing, including first lines from famous novels, or writing prompts from Natalie Goldberg (in previous posts I have expanded on this process). We then listen to each other reading their writing. To have four other people respond to what one has written, in an affirming and positive manner, is inspiring and memorable, and can be the trigger for change. This step is my most treasured, as I watch the changes begin to grow. As artists, we often dismiss our work quickly as not being good enough but having four compassionate witnesses affirm that the material matters, and has substance, helps change our patterns of self-sabotage, procrastination, or self-judgment.
Before we leave our Zoom home, for that is what it now feels like, we share our “takeaway”. So often, it is something someone else has said or something that they have never thought of before that arose from group discussions. We are firm in the belief that what happens in the Zoom room stays in the Zoom room hence I have not included here examples of people’s work. We create a confidential space so that we can invite our vulnerable selves to turn up and explore the importance of having an embodied awareness, enriched by the clay, by conversations, by deep listening, and by attending to our breath.
And so another workshop comes to an end.