Filed in Arts & Culture

Saved From Freezing

The Spirituality of Art

Norman Fischer

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Black Spirit Tricycle Spring 2005I'm in my car, on the highway. I turn off the news reports and the baseball game I've been listening to and switch to a Beethoven violin sonata that's loaded in the CD player. Listening to the music, my mind gradually starts to release, like a hand that had been grasping something tightly and is beginning to let go. Another mind appears, a mind completely engaged with the pattern the music weaves. A moment before, I'd been frozen into the shape of a self in a world. Now, the music has thawed me out.

The world and the self really do appear to us as frozen. Our personal problems, our self-definitions, what we hear from those around us—all these convincing and compelling experiences invite us to clutch at concepts, positions, worries. We naturally build vast structures of ice to hold in place the world and the self, chilly and confined. But the experience of art can shake us free of all that. Art can save us from freezing.

Spiritual practice can, too. It can provide us with a much larger view of our lives, a warming, melting view. At least this is the theory. But anyone who's done spiritual practice for a while can tell you that it doesn't always work that way. In fact, spiritual practice too often hits us with an arctic blast, icing us over, if we are not careful, into more grotesque shapes than the ones we were in before we began practice. Why? Because we tend toward ice: We crave a secure sense of self, a truth we can depend on, a world we can tame and understand. We want to be frozen, even as we long desperately to thaw. Religion is problematic because we are problematic.

But that snatch of music, that poem, that picture—these can make a big difference. The imagination situates us in a reality wider, deeper, and more mysterious than we can directly sense or rationally know. Imagination can see into and through the apparent world to something luminous and significant. Without imagination there is only plodding on in a two-dimensional world, merely surviving, getting through the day. Without imagination we feel only the world's dead weight, like an albatross around our necks, hanging there without rhythm, without quickness, without a beating heart.

But imagination is tricky and wild. It does not play by the rules; it cannot be controlled or second-guessed. No surprise, then, that imagination is depicted as a goddess, a muse, who comes when she wants to and leaves without notice. From the point of view of the rationally organized world, imagination is dangerous, for it holds that world in supreme irony, as a mere backdrop for its colorful activity. No wonder Plato wanted to exclude the poets from his Republic. And no wonder religion almost always mistrusts and fears the imagination, which is forever evoking energies—sexual and creative energies—religion would just as soon forget: they are just so messy and hard to control, and they are not usually polite.

Imagination draws its energy from a confrontation with desire. It feeds off desire, transmuting and magnifying reality through desire's power. Fantasy does the opposite; it avoids desire by fleeing into a crude sort of wish-fulfillment that seems much safer. Fantasy might be teddy bears, lollipops, sexual delights, or superhero adventures; it also might be voices in one's head urging acts of outrage and mayhem. Or it might be the confused world of separation and fear we routinely live in, a threatening yet seductive world that promises us the happiness we seek when our fantasies finally become real. Imagination confronts desire directly, in all its discomfort and intensity, deepening the world right where we are. Fantasy and reality are opposing forces, but imagination and reality are not in opposition: imagination goes toward reality, shapes and evokes it.

So although spiritual practice seems necessarily to be, and historically has been, at odds with imagination, the truth is that spiritual practice requires imagination. If we really want to go beyond the surface of things to the deeply hidden, actual experience of being alive (as spiritual practice encourages us to do), we need imagination as an ally. The senses, reason, even our moral and emotional faculties are not enough.

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wilnerj's picture

Fantasy is driven by desire. Rather than an attempt to avoid desire it is its manifestation. And fantasy is part of the imagination. The pursuit of art can be very egoistic closing one's self off from others.

kcwd50's picture

Thank you, this is wonderful. The distinction between fantasy and imagination is particularly helpful, one which it took me a long time to discern and which caused me a lot of suffering in my youth--you nailed it.

summerleaf's picture

Thank you for this, it helps a lot. Creativity is ultimately what helps me connect with others, and this is why the creative process seems so desparately important to me that I could never give it up, even while wallowing in a tradition that tells me to "accept what is" rather than embellish or add my own story to it.

cobham's picture

Very glad the author shared his experience :)

I didn't really understand the part where he says: "Imagination draws its energy from a confrontation with desire. It feeds off desire, transmuting and magnifying reality through desire's power."
I hope someone will be kind enough to explain it to me.

marginal person's picture

I think the author is saying desire is an intense, uncomfortable energy. The imagination feeds off this energy to create art .The imagination doesn't avoid the discomfort of desire but uses it's energy to transform our every day world into something "luminous and significant".
He writes that fantasy avoids the discomfort of desire by escaping reality and engaging in "a crude form of wish fulfillment"
That's my take on the meaning of the passage, I hope it's helpful..

wilnerj's picture

Yes, it almost sounds like he is drawing from the poet of Aesthetic Realism Eli Siegel.

Dominic Gomez's picture

As an artist I find imagination and fantasy are the same thing. Both uplift you from the harsh reality of samsara.

marginal person's picture

"We want to be frozen even as we long fervently to thaw".
Interesting that Dante"s 9th and final circle of hell, reserved for the betrayers of trust, is a vast plain of ice. Satan resides here , frozen to the waist in the ice,trapped for eternity.

jackelope65's picture

My wife is an artist and while I was at work, often 14-16 hours, I might call her 2-3 times during that period. When she has delved deeply into her art, she thought why is he calling me so frequently, when actually calls may be 4-8 hours apart. She has lost the small "I" who keeps track of time with no true dualistic separation from all that surrounds her. This type of experience has occurred to me with medical codes, surgery, and writing my own poetry. It is of no surprise that art can improve our immune systems, reduce stress, and improve our general health and longevity, as we truly do not "lose" time. Singing in the car or shower with reckless abandon similarly loses the small "I" unless singing "I, me, me, mine____" with John Lennon. Yet, I can not truly separate this experience from deep meditation, no longer needing the breath, but just aware.

toonteo's picture

Very artistically explaining the needs for art
Thank you so much

Danny's picture

These beautiful and profound lines from the poem "July Mountain", by Wallace Stevens:

We live in a constellation
Of patches and of pitches,
Not in a single world,
In things said well in music,
On the piano and in speech,
As in the page of poetry-
Thinkers without final thoughts
In an always incipient cosmos.

Shubhangi Karnik's picture

"TAKING CARE OF OUR HOME, RELATIONSHIPS, OUR COMMUNITIES, AND OURSELVES WITH ATTENTIVENESS AND LOVE---THAT IS, AS IF WE WERE ARTISTS GRAPPLING WITH MATERIALS."

SUPERB !!

Dominic Gomez's picture

Picasso said art is a lie that tells the truth. For Buddhists enlightenment to this truth is sustained through faith.

mikkigriffin's picture

This brilliant article reminded me why I read poetry and visit museums and artists' studios. Those encounters with rich imaginations keep something alive and perhaps growing inside, something that bumps into the thud of fantasy. Thank you.