Trust. (Or, Lay Down Cleverness.)
I learned a lot from this painting. A lot about trust. And a lot about cleverness.
This is my soul yantra of Krishna energy, painted as one of four paintings of the aims of life, intended for our bedroom: dharma (path/purpose), artha (wealth), kama (pleasure) and moksha (spiritual liberation).
Love • Balance • Higher Self • Trust • Truth
These are divine qualities of Krishna.
Krishna is the energy of yoga—union of human and divine. Krishna is the flute of earthly and eternal love. Krishna is the wisdom of dharma (your soul’s path): take action, devoted to the divine and without attachment to the outcome. Each action, each human experience, moves you into deeper connection with your Higher Self. Through this, you not only create personal balance and integrity, but the balance and integrity of the world.
I was very excited about beginning this series of four paintings with dharma, and with Krishna, the symbolic peacock feathers, teals, oranges and reds of whom wove through our wedding.
And then, I had a moment. A judgement about form.
I was sitting in meditation with this energy, asking about this painting and thought, I cannot do another painting of vertical brush strokes. It must be something else. Something more creative, that expresses more imagination and range.
And so a fan shape, like a sunrise or the plume of an ancient warrior’s helmet (very Bhagavad Gita), came to me in the colors of a peacock feather, and I began the painting on the left. (You may have seen my time-lapse video. If not, now is a good time to announce that I’m on instagram @rebecca.ramadevi.prien).
This painting was all wrong from the beginning. Painting it was awkward. Heavy. Stilted. But I persisted, because that arc was what I’d seen, and because there is always a phase of hating the painting, where I need to remind myself to trust the painting, and there is the real possibility of ruining it. Meaning, sending it beyond the point of any hope of cohesion, let alone beauty (not all art is “beautiful” but it is compelling in its composition).
That is what happened here. In that moment of tension, I decided to experiment. That what I needed (notice I said “I” not “the painting”) was to try the overlay of a different technique. I have loved using my palette knife on paintings in the past. I did a 3 painting commission using no paint brush whatsoever. So, I thought, well, let’s just see. . .
I confirmed what I’d felt all along: this first painting (on the left) was the amateurish attempt of a junior high student at best. There are few paintings I can remember creating as bad as this one; 3 come to mind, this included. (I cannot even believe I am sharing it with you.)
If you look at it, it has the energy of me fighting with it.
So, I set it aside and started over. I sat, and I chanted: Om Klim Krishnaya Swaha. I felt the dance, the laughter, the lightheartedness of this divine energy of love and life. And the painting on the right came into focus.
I surrendered to the vertical brush strokes. Relief, ease, joy washed over me. Every song on my Pandora station was a Krishna kirtan, and I thought, that is what I get for being clever.
The painting on the left came from my mind, needing my art to be different, to be clever. The painting on the right came from trusting my art is exactly what it is right now.
Transmitting an energetic and transformational experience through color and vertical paint strokes is what is coming through me right now—and it’s moving people. It is also exactly how I experience your vibration when I listening for your personal mantras—vertically above my head with the disruptions stretching out horizontally to the left. All of this is consistent with what my guru has taught: (your connection to) God is straight up and down.
None of this syncrohicity was intentional; it is organic. It is what is flowing through, if I allow it.
And it dawned on me: it is exactly the same with my business. When I get clever, it’s a stiff, awkward, ineffective mess.
How very subtle cleverness is. I saw the painting on the left in my meditation. Or so I thought. But it was initiated by a thought that I couldn’t possibly keep painting vertical paint strokes and take myself seriously as an artist. How many variations could there be? How much talent did it take? Wouldn’t people lose interest? (What would they think?)
The subtle needs and concerns of the ego to be seen, to be something. And then, the clear difference in results between when I am needing cleverness and when I am empty to what is.
What would happen if you allowed yourself not to be clever?
What if you could trust the flow of life rushing through you?
I invite you to try it. I hope you’ll share with me what you find.
If you want your own soul yantra—reflecting the essence of you, your path or your work—I’d love to explore it with you.
Soul yantra paintings are available for individuals, couples, families, transformational groups and healing spaces. More examples of soul yantras, both commissioned and mine, are at the link below.
Soul Yantra
A visual transmission of your highest self that guides the leading edge of your path.
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