The Synchronous Mind

Microseason No. 19, May 5-9

A candle doesn’t light itself— it is lit by a conscious physical act.

The same is true of my mind’s creative flame and my human body.

In times of burnout or fatigue—when my creative fire goes out— I need a spark to reignite the lantern. Walking on familiar trails can put my busy mind and weary body back in sync together.

This is helpful to me, not just in making art, but also in my work in healthcare. Dentistry in particular, is such an interesting combination of science and craft. We have all of these wonderful modern materials and technologies, but most of the healing is done through the work and skill of human hands.

There is the added complexity of working with a wide variety of patients who all deserve to be met with kindness and compassion.

Whatever work you do in the world, it naturally depletes you— this is good!

You owe it to yourself to figure out how to keep replenishing the deep wells that you draw from every day: mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and physically.

Creativity needs all four of these rivers to flow into the confluence of your work.

Hiking through the changing microseasons helps me to feel whole, clear-minded and embodied, so that I can move easily in those two plains where the intellectual and the physical worlds meet.

By walking and just noticing whatever catches my senses, I have found many treasures!

My favorite so far has been an unusual, color-changing Reishi mushroom that I saw growing at the base of a rotting elm tree in a city park near my home.

I watched the waves of color— creamy white, neon yellow, day glow orange, russet, purple, blue, and deep red— move through this amazing creature over a period of four months. (Shown left to right, bottom to top.)

Each image shown here was taken of the same specimen, roughly once a week.

Every time I walked in these woods, I looked forward to visiting this particular specimen to be surprised by the changes had occurred. One day, I was sad to see that my little mushroom friend had fallen over and finished its colorful life, so I brought it home to add to my herbarium collection.

In her recent article about one of my favorite bands, The National, Amanda Petrusich writes so beautifully about ordinary, inevitable daily losses. You really must read it. Then go listen to the National’s new album, The First Two Pages of Frankenstein. It’s Genius.

“We are always losing, or leaving, or being left, in ways both minor and vast.”

Walking through the 5-day long microseasons helps me see how each small loss is only a necessary part of a continuous cycle of renewal and rebirth. I live with simple trust— hoping to play my part in it all. As a contemplative artist and nurse, I choose to live a resurrected life— an ordinary, sanctified life of generous creativity.

May you find your own hopeful way through each tiny season.