The teachers who have most influenced me

The teachers who have most influenced me

I got tagged by Allison Piepmeier from Baxter Sez..., on Blogger. the subject is: “The teachers who have most influenced me”. I had written of my most influential school teacher some time ago, his name was “Cosmic” Kent Cathcart. But for the present task, I thought of other “teachers”, the not so obvious ones, but no less important. Learning is not always fun and pleasant, often a poignant, painful and awkward experience, and sometimes the teachers are mean and indifferent.

“It is those button pushers, the ones who succeed in sending you into a state of frustration and turmoil with a simple look of disapproval or a frown, who are your greatest teachers.” -Dr. Wayne Dyer, There is A Spiritual Solution to Every Problem, Quill (Harper Collins Publishers), c. 2001

I could name those teachers, two specifically, and a few of the things that I have culled from the “button pushers”, but most of the lessons learned from these teachers, and appreciating what they taught is realized only in retrospect, sometimes years after the fact. Likewise, because they are still very raw for me, still thorns in my side, and fearing a set back, I will leave those for another time and discussion when I feel a bit more removed from the pain, and more courageous to take them on. But the following is what I do feel comfortable discussing.

Loneliness and art have been my teachers. No one taught me how to draw or paint. Moments of boredom inspired my imagination and the necessity of creativity, drawing, painting, reading and exploring the woods just past the backyard. My imagination was my refuge. The childhood moments I remember the most are the times when I was alone creating something, and though there was a brother, sister, and mother around, and occasionally my dad, I don't remember what they were doing while I was creating. I remembered what I created. I almost failed Kindergarten because of daydreaming. I don't remember what was taught, I do remember having to say the pledge of allegiance in front of the class. I remember the bulletin board of construction paper sheep with our names on it- one side of the sheep was white, the other side black, and if you were bad, you were a “black sheep”- what a nasty little cliche, for all the obvious and damaging analogies and connotations! I must have been a “black sheep” often, and all for daydreaming. I remember painting in Saturday school at Memphis College of Art, walking through Overton Park, seeing the art students painting, drawing sculpting on the lawn. I remember the steps up to the front double doors, the odd, corrugated design of the roof, the front gallery, the smell of turpentine, linseed, plaster, and paper, and having to go up two or three flights of stairs to reach the studios in the top where I took my classes. I don't remember the teachers, or what they said or taught, but I remember tonal paintings. Doing art taught me meditation, not in the usual sense, but there is a point where everything and everyone fades into the background, and what is left is manipulating particles of carbon and pigments of paint, on paper and canvas, manipulating the surface, lines, symmetry, frequencies of colours, juxtaposition, a non- verbal language, a moment outside of time. My college experience, a singular year, was the same- I don't remember if they taught me anything, but I remember what I created, and grateful they allowed me the space to do so. I have learned from the process of creating. I made elaborate doll houses with furniture, tiny cars and creatures out of cardboard, pieces of wood and odd things I found. I learned to sew on a sewing machine by watching my mother sew, and made my own stuffed animals and dolls with scrap fabric. I read about Leonardo da Vinci, studied his drawings, and drew pictures from what I saw in life and in books. I learned Calligraphy from studying type faces and script. I did learn measurement from school, and perspective and the basic rules of graphic design layouts from the books in Mr. Carney's Commerical Art class in high school.

Depression for a decade or more- I don't remember a lot of what happened, other than the severely emotional episodes, the two “voluntary” weeks in the hospital, I didn't do much art, abysmally stuck, but what I remember the most was the profoundly brilliant thinking of Carl Gustav Jung, how he incorporated science, world mythology, alchemy, anthropology, mysticism, philosophy, etc., into the psychology of the human psyche, his collective unconsciousness and archetypes. I remember the paradoxes of Lao Tzu, Aldous Huxley's Perennial Philosophy, the Buddha's Dhammapada and illusions which we label as “real”, and being absorbed into the Kabbalah. They taught me to look past the external, the obvious, and pay attention to the subtle, the silence, and the soul, that all of the answers were all right there within me, not from without. What the Bleep Do We Know? Taught me the basic premise of Quantum Physics, that everything touches and effects everything, the interconnectedness of everything in the universe, that we continuously create reality, whether consciously and intently, or with careless, unconsciousness and ignorance. The teachings from these great thinkers and my own experience with creating has me now attempting to consciously and intently create a new reality. No one, or no medicine cured me of depression. I was inspired by the thinking of people who thought outside the box, and I got out of the box of depression on my own, quitting the meds, three months of hellish withdrawals, rewiring my brain and changing my thoughts and behaviors, which took some doing. The experience taught me that creating one's reality is possible with conscious, persistent intentions, and I believe now that those same principles of conscious, persistent intent, the collective unconsciousness and collective consciousness, our interconnectedness with everyone and everything else, and the influence we have on one another can change the world if we so choose.

Does it matter that I cannot remember specifically who taught me what or how? I think it matters most that I learned, and am still learning. I honor all my teachers, the known and unknown, the tangible and intangible, and life itself, the greatest of these, however kind or mean.

The highest type of ruler is one of whose
existence the people are barely aware.
...The Sage is self-effacing and scanty of words.
When his task is accomplished and
things have been completed,
All the people say, “We ourselves achieved it!”

-Dao De Jing Ch.17

I tag:

Rapunzel from Zaadz

Jonathan from Zaadz

Mark from Zaadz

Lagniappe from Zaadz

Leonardo from Zaadz

Kimberly from Zaadz

Assuming this is similar to the recent tagging shtuff on Zaadz, you post your response to the question on your blog, tag (in this case) six people (linking their page on your post), making sure to shout out or email them to inform them they've been tagged, and so on, and so on.