My seven-year-old granddaughter and I are having conversations about what constitutes art. As we wander around Balboa Park after her ballet classes, I watch as her mind expands to include other things besides painting or crafts. I point out the architecture of those beautiful old buildings—complete with the ornate sculptures which decorate their facades.
She’ll ask things like, “You mean, even those plants are art, Granny?”
I tell her that landscape artists designed their layout and carefully care for them. And that, yes, those folk dancers underneath the huge Moreton Bay Fig Tree are doing art as well. We’ve wandered through the Japanese Friendship Garden, sat beside the Lily Pond, wound our way through the canyon maze… and plan to experience more that this amazing place has to offer.
We also branch out our conversation when I mention how one lives their life can also be a form of art. By living creatively and being open to spontaneity can be a much more fulfilling way of life than not being open to new experiences and ideas. You know, like being set in our ways. And then inspiration has a much better chance to come to us if we give it room to appear.
But it’s also about balance, both internal and external. Changing our behavior enough before things get too out of balance is an important skill, and we must be on the lookout for when we might need to activate a counterbalance. After all, we do have to function in our society as well as be aware of our effects on the natural world.
When we live in rural places our responsibilities extend beyond what our own preferences might be, as it would if we lived in the city. For instance, we may be proud of our outdoor landscaping and want it to be visible in the dark as well as day. But by lighting up our yards at night we add to the light pollution which gets worse and worse as more people join in the “fun”. The natural night life around us can be negatively affected without our even knowing how or how much. Night sky ordinances or not—let’s be mindful. Perhaps your neighbor wants to go outside and look at the stars that your lights have blocked.
Lately, I’ve been reading The Re-Enchantment of Everyday Life by Thomas Moore. He’s a psychotherapist who also has a Ph.D. in religion. The book is full of inspirational as well as educational information. One of the many paragraphs that resonated with me, probably because of my own personal life mode, follows:
In the third book of the Republic, Plato poses a question about education: Is it right to think of gymnastics as training for the body and music for the soul? His answer would surprise some readers: Both, he says, are for the soul. Gymnastics, he says, derives from the “high-spirited element in our nature,” and if it is carried out in conjunction with music, it educates a person in courage. But if music is lacking, gymnastics makes a person hard and harsh. On the other hand, if you learn music but not gymnastics, you become too soft, you “melt and liquefy until your spirit dissolves away.”
Beginning in early childhood, I gravitated to dance and gymnastics because then I wouldn’t have to choose between physical activity and music. I studied both for many years. The blending of these disciplines, plus diving in with heart and soul, was a necessary fusion for me, providing a balance which I’ve always considered extremely important to my wellbeing. I can’t speak for others specifically, but I do feel that embracing a broad spectrum of existence can help provide one with both a groundedness and an openness to serendipity.
Anyway, regardless of what we are doing with our time and energy, why not try to enjoy our life as an art form—continually growing and changing? And who knows what might happen next?
Chi Varnado has published six books including fiction, nonfiction and children’s books. They are available on www.amazon.com. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com or www.dancecentrepresents.com.