And on the inside. . .

The colors are reversed; blue should be on the left, I think, and red on the right if I’m representing veins and arteries. . .I didn’t decide to use blue until I got to that page.

There’s also the efforts at learning the 100 syllable Vajrasattva Mantra. Copying mantras in writing always helps me to learn and contemplate them more deeply.

Then there’s the note-taking that went on during the retreat itself — a big adjustment. Zen practitioners don’t tend to engage that on retreat, but this was more of a teaching/learning retreat. Getting the practices transmitted and solidified within a specific context and background. There was a lot.

IT was a lot. And very necessary.

Sometimes it feels right to leave a page blank. Maybe I’ll come back and fill it in with something.

Or not.

I’ve also begun playing with mandalas. Trying them on for size. I realize I’ve been incorporating mandalas into many things I work on for years now. I love the roundness. The completeness.

This mandala was a response to a post from the Tara Mandala Center about Brooding.

There’s been a lot of that going on this summer. Many, many reasons.

The quote essentially went on to point out that sometimes brooding is necessary; it often happens right before a tremendous time of growth, creative inspiration, or spiritual breakthrough. This has been my experience, too. Sometimes a reminder makes all the difference.

I  love the way the tone of a subject can shift from cool to warm in a heartbeat.

Just the slightest tilt in angle, and the feel is completely different.

 

I have made a lot of books over the last year. Some as commissions, some for a larger body of work, and of course the annual planner that my friends and students enjoy with me. I forget that it’s unusual and recently took it to a job interview. It became an immediate icebreaker.

This is the 2018 planner below:

I rarely make a beautiful book just for my own use as a journal, however. I don’t know  why. As in love as I am with all things books, I struggle with the process of journaling in a “beautiful” book. It’s hard to roll with the process as easily when I’m considering form,   content, writing, etc. Generally, when I write, I’m composing, so I do it on the computer and consider it writing instead of journaling. . .even though it’s really both.

Books as journals and books as art form, however, are two different practices entirely. And journaling in a book instead of on a laptop is yet another major shift in process.

Shifts are good. I needed one.

I decided to create a new journal for myself for a retreat this summer. Away from technology and immersed in natural environments, it seemed like the right time to engage in journaling as a practice. No other retreats I’ve attended encouraged journaling until this one.

Here it is:

This is it.

I really, really love it.  And I had to get over that so that I could actually start writing in it and using it.

To make it, I started with some rusted scraps, the cardboard from some pads of paper, some linen scraps, and some thread from the eco-printing stash.

The paper on the inside of the covers is leftover Christmas wrapping paper that I upcycled for this. I love re-using paper for projects.

It’s coptic stitched with brown waxed linen. The papers inside are a mixture of eco-prints of weeds from Tom’s yard, watercolor paper, black drawing paper, and recycled paper bags.

I’m absolutely in LOVE with the covers. . .

Using it has been SO much fun!!!

I have done some journal writing, note-taking, quote copying, mandala making, sutra copying, etc. It’s got a definite Zen aesthetic, but the practices I’ve been learning of late are from a Tibetan Vajrayana background. . .which is a TOTALLY different aesthetic.

And a totally different practice, as well.

As soon as I can get my phone to communicate with my laptop to update photos, I’ll upload some pics from the inside as well.