When I want to absorb a quotation or some kind of message, I sometimes make a piece of art from it, playing with the lettering in creative ways. This one is a reminder to me when I become impatient with myself. “Patience is the smile of the soul”. As I made this drawing of these words, they worked their way into me, and then I stuck it up in a room with tape on the wall, and I run into it as I move about in my home.
I feel the impact of something written out by someone else in calligraphy or artistic lettering more strongly when the presentation is creative. I appreciate the art of Corita Kent and her playful approach to words. This one is part of a series of alphabet letters from 1968.
Digging through old handwritten letters from friends and family that I have saved reminds me how the handwriting of someone can carry something more than emails and texts. I connect more with the person writing, even if it is just a brief note, or a signed card. I handwrite some letters still these days dominated by email and text instant-ness. No spellcheck or correcting mistakes, but that’s ok, I keep telling myself. Machine-created art or text cannot provide the human-to-human connection as well as hand-lettering does. Various empirical studies have shown that how a viewer evaluates an artwork depends on her/his knowledge of its creator or the process of creation. The same applies to our handwritten letters to and from another person.
Each morning, I write in my journal. I use fountain pens with various coloured inks and nib sizes. I enjoy the feel of the pen on the paper, and the shape of letters, even if much of what I am writing about is mundane. I write the date and day at the beginning, somehow commemorating it.
I am no great calligrapher. My work would never have made it into the Book of Kells. and there is nothing perfect about my handwriting. I rarely re-read my journals, but there is a satisfaction in writing things down on paper.
I often write out poems or quotes I want to remember, like this one by Bernard of Clairvaux. It was good for me to do, mistakes and all.
Research has shown that when we write something long-hand, pen or pencil on paper, it is good for us. It helps things sink in, in a way beyond typing into a phone or computer. I still take notes on paper when listening to a talk, or even sometimes when hearing words from a friend on the phone.
Do you write things out with pencil or pen? Have critical ‘handwriting’ teachers from your childhood spoiled the joy of handwriting for you? If so, can you reclaim the joy of writing, of making beautiful letters, or even rough ones? Do you think handwriting a note to someone might sometimes be better than an email or text even if it is imperfect and takes longer to arrive by mail? If you cannot find a stamp, you can always take a photo of it and text it to them.
Are there any quotes you want to stick up on your wall or put on your table, not in typeface, but in your own hand?
I heard Coleman Barks read this poem of his in a small group years ago, and it has continued to stir my heart. When we think of other-centered love, it is inextricably tied to the wonder of the human being, and our complex relationships with each other.
What art fuels your ability to love? Fans the flames of love in you? In a lecture at the Chautauqua Institute in New York on compassionate love, I shared some arts resources that do that for me. One of them was the film, 
Here are some web-links to poetry and music from the Spiritual Connection book that I gathered up to post. I hope some of them can help to provide fuel for you in these days.
I have been part of a group of scholars these past few months, discussing suffering from the perspectives of literature, philosophy, theology and psychology. During our weekly conversations I have found that drawing people in the group, as always, helps me to focus. Although ideas are so often the center of academic discussions, it is the human beings that speak to me. Each person has a depth of being, a fullness of life, that I want to capture somehow. Doing this brings me to appreciate them more.
My continuing passion is to part a curtain, that invisible veil of indifference that falls between us and that blinds us to each other’s presence, each other’s wonder, each other’s human plight.
In the Yes theme chapter (8) in the Spiritual Connection book, one of the things I reflect on is how we need to receptively allow life to unfold. In many ways, I think of myself as a patient person, but when I carefully look at my attitudes, I see impatience with myself in abundance. I did this piece of calligraphy a while back, a saying by Philippe Obrecht – “Patience is the soul’s smile…” We can say yes to life as it is, ourselves as we are, as we wait in preparation for what is to come in its own time. I am getting a strong message of patience right now – loud and clear. I hope I can listen.