Religion is Art
Without Art, there would be no religion. Throughout history, religions have relied on artists to express theology. So much music, painting, sculpture and architecture exists for religious purposes and with religious financial backing. Primitive cultures practised animism using visual language and magical thinking to conjure a bountiful and safe hunt, painting bison and other animals on cave walls. Pregnancy and birth were a mysterious and dangerous miracle; the female figure, or “Venus”, is the oldest religious artifact, and artistic sculpture.
Science is a new discipline in the 3,000,000+ year history of homo sapiens. Humans have relied on religion for answers to the precariousness of daily life. Science replaced superstition and blind faith and Atheism has risen accordingly. The Arts have followed suit by adopting a secular view; abstract art dominated the 20th century. Still, religion relies on visual, spatial and auditory aids. Religion could not exist without the Arts, and some of the most priceless and enduring works are deistic.
acrylic on board 8×8 inches 2020
My religious journey
As an artist, I have an innate reverence for life and all phenomena. The sensations evoked by religion are fascinating. I am intrigued by the myths and magical beliefs, the smells, sounds and sights of rituals. I admire the community spirit of religious groups. I have witnessed lives changed by conversion to religion. I have dipped my toes in piety but it’s not for me.
Although I have an artist’s imagination to believe the fantastical, it’s impossible for me to join a group that requires members to suspend belief in common sense, facts and empirical evidence. My stubborn independence dictates that I question everything, but the dreamer in me seeks the Divine. My instincts told me that a whole life includes a healthy body, a healthy spirit, and a healthy mind, so I began to look into psychology as an avenue of self reflection and growth.
Psychology vs Religion
I began reading Freud, Adler, Jung and other Western pioneers of psychology and my skeptical nature led me to alternate therapies such as hypnotherapy, NLP, alternate mental states, group therapy, and primal therapy. My friends were involved in many alternate therapies, none were religious but one was a practising Buddhist. This was odd, because all of them attended the Dalai Lama visit in 1993, yet none were practising Buddhists or meditators. Since I had no interest in traditional religions, I paid no attention, and continued my studies of Western psychology.
Having no formal education, I began working as a front line mental health worker. My clients had mental and physical disabilities, and eventually I landed my “dream job”, teaching art in a therapeutic setting. Some of my family suffered mental illness. My mother and sisters were alcoholic, my son is schizophrenic as is my cousin, my daughter was a junkie and another cousin is a gambling addict, so I was surrounded by subjects to study.
My mental health
Years of thankless care-giving is hard on a person. My responsibilities began when I was 6 when my half sister was born and continued until I was 60. Motherhood, marriage and two disabled adult children took up the majority of my time, money and attention, with nothing left over for me. My every attempt at succeeding was thwarted by the lousy hand I was dealt, a few of life’s’ curve-balls and my own bad decisions. Failed art career, two failed marriages, three failed businesses, and one bankruptcy later, I was exhausted and needed help.
I took advantage of the health benefits at work and began cognitive therapy. This seemed effective at first, but soon devolved into a futile cycle of complaining and no change. I knew I had to try something else, but what? Everything I did in life failed, so I decided the best thing for me was to do nothing at all. I was so discouraged, I quit making art for the first time in my life. I would do nothing even if it killed me.
Don’t believe everything you think
Considering my track record, I knew if I tried to do nothing it would also end in failure. I needed expert instruction so as not to fuck this up too. I reasoned that meditation is doing nothing, so I sought instruction. My criteria was clear; it had to be free or by donation and it had to be within walking distance. One day while walking aimlessly, I saw a building with a sign saying “Science of Mind”. It was NOT Scientology, it was a Buddhist centre. Upon further investigation, I discovered it was free or by donation. So, in spite of my distrust for religion, I began taking classes.
The practice sessions were just my speed. I learned how to sit. I learned how to stay. I learned how to shut up, but most importantly, I learned why this is useful.
There were two lessons a week, one was practice and one was theory. I was hooked in the very first class when the lama quoted the Buddha, “Do not believe in anything simply because you have heard it. Do not believe in anything simply because it is spoken and rumoured by many. Do not believe in anything simply because it is found written in your religious books. Do not believe in anything merely on the authority of your teachers and elders. Do not believe in traditions because they have been handed down for many generations. But after observation and analysis, when you find that anything agrees with reason and is conducive to the good and benefit of one and all, then accept it and live up to it.”
I was surprised to learn that words like “soul”, “spirit” “faith”, “God”, “miracles” were absent in the teachings. Instead we used phrases like “mind stream”, “valid cognition”, “reality”, “illusion”, etc. We learned how our senses stimulate thought, how thought results in emotion, and how emotion can run our lives. I recall the teaching on anger, the Lama described the poisonous nature of this emotion and I piped up, “What if the other guy is an asshole?” He retorted, “What if YOU are the asshole?”. BAM!
The most valuable lesson for me was gratitude. I was angry, bitter and felt victimized and it was a struggle to feel grateful for anything. After some deep contemplation and discussion, I became grateful for the miracle of my very existence. My gratitude filled me with joy. My joy was so great I began making art again.
I was saved!
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