Hi, Sunni, That’s a very good question. I do translate the world through imagery and I suppose the metaphors come along for the ride. I make the most sense of things by way of the heart. I write and play music, make short films, and write poetry. All are experienced with the same heart, through the same lens. In that way, the poetry becomes lyrics for the song and the song becomes the film. Since the audible and visuals come from the same heart, my hope is that it finds its way to others in the same spirit. My vow is to ease the pain of others through my works. A lot of the filming is done in slow motion. That slows the viewer down and brings them into their own heart. The pedal steel guitar sings like the angels and can further soften the knotted heart. To make all these elements work together brings me great joy. I admire your work and the way you go about it. It Truely has a great purpose. Thank you for that!
That's amazing, Brian. Is it possible to have 'metaphor envy?' I giggle about this phrase but I've actually expressed envy to my friends and colleagues for whom metaphors come easily. They are the hardest thing for me as a speaker and writer...it is a true art, the art of visual metaphor. And how gorgeous it must be for you to weave all of these things together - poetry and music and imagery and heartfulness. What an offering in and of itself. Send me something I can see and feel?
Hi, Sunni. My thoughts on your “metaphor envy” might lead to an actual exercise. So, I’ve seen much of your drawings and they are metaphors of the highest order. Visual metaphors. These days your drawing comes so naturally that you probably don’t see them as such. If you’re speaking to a crowd and aren’t using your drawings, where do the metaphors come from? From your imagination. Remember flash cards from elementary school? Okay, here we go. You’ll need someone to take part in this with you, someone who knows your work and your typical speaking engagement. Have that person flash a question at you, maybe something someone in your audience might ask. As quickly as possible, imagine what you would draw for an answer. Depending on if you’re visual, auditory, or kinesthetic, you’ll look up to the right, up to the left, or cast your gaze downward. At your speaking event you’d be looking just over your audience’s head. If you’re looking directly at them, you’ll see that they’re anxiously waiting for your answer and you’ll probably jump right in with an answer, and that’s fine because you’re good at that. But if you pause for a few seconds, and they’ll probably not notice that you’re looking over their heads, you can focus on the image of the drawing in your mind and that drawing probably has your metaphor in it. Then you can verbalize it on the fly. And the short pause while you’re putting that all together? ... Well, you’re a sage, perhaps. And back to the flash cards? Practice in that way. Repetition. Your drawings are your ace in the hole. They have so much. Apologies for the long winded advice you didn’t ask for. I hope it works some kind of shift for you. If not, being a sage on stage is quite enough.
Good post! I admire that you are clear on your vows in life. Somehow I get this image of you shooting arrows backwards. The point of the arrow is near your heart taking your own pain away from you and the feathers are pointed toward the rest of the world as what you’ve learned hits them softly. The true art of the bow and arrow.
I spoke with someone recently who had practice discussion with a Thailand monk... he said, "be patient and it will be better in a year." So I thought... I could say that to everyone, and then realized that for some it will be the same or worse. What do you say to those people?
Good morning Kim - an interesting question. My first response is another question: What was the context of this monk's perspective that something would be better in a year? There are so many ways that response could land: with prescience and accuracy, with false hope or delusion that causes more harm, with an encouragement of steadfast perseverance that may actually serve, with the end result of a student watching with new eyes and wondering what "better" even means. You see what I'm getting at...were someone to present me with an inquiry around the future, I'm not at all sure how I would respond. It would depend on the question, and the context, and what I may sense is needed. What I hope I WOULDN'T do is offer pithy comfort - or worse, misinformation - to aid the person in avoiding discomfort they would probabilistically be faced with anyway in the coming year. In other words, I hope I wouldn't cause harm with my attempt at responding. The safest bet, for me, would simply be to come alongside them in whatever fear or sorrow they are holding and let them know they're not alone. What would you do or say?
It was about an anxious mom whose kid was exploring the world. I'm coming around to admiring what the monk did when he realized that the mom's immediate issue was her anxiety and he used skillful means to meet that. But I think it wouldn't have been ok if the kid was dying. So it was a combination of help and honesty. So there wasn't misinformation as there might be in other situations. I like the idea of asking "what is the immediate issue?" What I didn't tell you is that he took a stick and touched her forehead and then both of her outstretched hands. Having her open her hands to the universe and touching them might have really been the real message... Flint's "I see you... I hear you."
For me, whether or not it was skillful is contingent on what she did with it...I could imagine her thinking, "Oh, yeah, in a year perhaps he'll be more obedient." Hahah! But with that embodiment of outstretching her arms and opening to a more universal wisdom, perhaps she grokked that in a year SHE could see or feel differently if she worked with what arose in her, perhaps some part of her awareness even expanded to recall our interconnection with the web of life. And yes, to your point, how reckless it could be if the child were in a dire situation. I'll assume the monk was up to good things and the exchange was nourishing...our charitable view and all. :) What would we do without Flint? I miss you.
Hi, Sunni, That’s a very good question. I do translate the world through imagery and I suppose the metaphors come along for the ride. I make the most sense of things by way of the heart. I write and play music, make short films, and write poetry. All are experienced with the same heart, through the same lens. In that way, the poetry becomes lyrics for the song and the song becomes the film. Since the audible and visuals come from the same heart, my hope is that it finds its way to others in the same spirit. My vow is to ease the pain of others through my works. A lot of the filming is done in slow motion. That slows the viewer down and brings them into their own heart. The pedal steel guitar sings like the angels and can further soften the knotted heart. To make all these elements work together brings me great joy. I admire your work and the way you go about it. It Truely has a great purpose. Thank you for that!
That's amazing, Brian. Is it possible to have 'metaphor envy?' I giggle about this phrase but I've actually expressed envy to my friends and colleagues for whom metaphors come easily. They are the hardest thing for me as a speaker and writer...it is a true art, the art of visual metaphor. And how gorgeous it must be for you to weave all of these things together - poetry and music and imagery and heartfulness. What an offering in and of itself. Send me something I can see and feel?
Hi, Sunni. My thoughts on your “metaphor envy” might lead to an actual exercise. So, I’ve seen much of your drawings and they are metaphors of the highest order. Visual metaphors. These days your drawing comes so naturally that you probably don’t see them as such. If you’re speaking to a crowd and aren’t using your drawings, where do the metaphors come from? From your imagination. Remember flash cards from elementary school? Okay, here we go. You’ll need someone to take part in this with you, someone who knows your work and your typical speaking engagement. Have that person flash a question at you, maybe something someone in your audience might ask. As quickly as possible, imagine what you would draw for an answer. Depending on if you’re visual, auditory, or kinesthetic, you’ll look up to the right, up to the left, or cast your gaze downward. At your speaking event you’d be looking just over your audience’s head. If you’re looking directly at them, you’ll see that they’re anxiously waiting for your answer and you’ll probably jump right in with an answer, and that’s fine because you’re good at that. But if you pause for a few seconds, and they’ll probably not notice that you’re looking over their heads, you can focus on the image of the drawing in your mind and that drawing probably has your metaphor in it. Then you can verbalize it on the fly. And the short pause while you’re putting that all together? ... Well, you’re a sage, perhaps. And back to the flash cards? Practice in that way. Repetition. Your drawings are your ace in the hole. They have so much. Apologies for the long winded advice you didn’t ask for. I hope it works some kind of shift for you. If not, being a sage on stage is quite enough.
Good post! I admire that you are clear on your vows in life. Somehow I get this image of you shooting arrows backwards. The point of the arrow is near your heart taking your own pain away from you and the feathers are pointed toward the rest of the world as what you’ve learned hits them softly. The true art of the bow and arrow.
Brian, I’m rather staggered by that visual image…it makes me want to weep…is that often how you understand the world…through imagery and metaphor?
I spoke with someone recently who had practice discussion with a Thailand monk... he said, "be patient and it will be better in a year." So I thought... I could say that to everyone, and then realized that for some it will be the same or worse. What do you say to those people?
Good morning Kim - an interesting question. My first response is another question: What was the context of this monk's perspective that something would be better in a year? There are so many ways that response could land: with prescience and accuracy, with false hope or delusion that causes more harm, with an encouragement of steadfast perseverance that may actually serve, with the end result of a student watching with new eyes and wondering what "better" even means. You see what I'm getting at...were someone to present me with an inquiry around the future, I'm not at all sure how I would respond. It would depend on the question, and the context, and what I may sense is needed. What I hope I WOULDN'T do is offer pithy comfort - or worse, misinformation - to aid the person in avoiding discomfort they would probabilistically be faced with anyway in the coming year. In other words, I hope I wouldn't cause harm with my attempt at responding. The safest bet, for me, would simply be to come alongside them in whatever fear or sorrow they are holding and let them know they're not alone. What would you do or say?
It was about an anxious mom whose kid was exploring the world. I'm coming around to admiring what the monk did when he realized that the mom's immediate issue was her anxiety and he used skillful means to meet that. But I think it wouldn't have been ok if the kid was dying. So it was a combination of help and honesty. So there wasn't misinformation as there might be in other situations. I like the idea of asking "what is the immediate issue?" What I didn't tell you is that he took a stick and touched her forehead and then both of her outstretched hands. Having her open her hands to the universe and touching them might have really been the real message... Flint's "I see you... I hear you."
For me, whether or not it was skillful is contingent on what she did with it...I could imagine her thinking, "Oh, yeah, in a year perhaps he'll be more obedient." Hahah! But with that embodiment of outstretching her arms and opening to a more universal wisdom, perhaps she grokked that in a year SHE could see or feel differently if she worked with what arose in her, perhaps some part of her awareness even expanded to recall our interconnection with the web of life. And yes, to your point, how reckless it could be if the child were in a dire situation. I'll assume the monk was up to good things and the exchange was nourishing...our charitable view and all. :) What would we do without Flint? I miss you.