Home sweet h(Om)e is a stream of consciousness writing on my visual investigation into inner sacred sound through means of Suminagashi – the Japanese marbling technique from Shinto tradition.
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I bring my palms together by heart and chant Omॐ to seal my yoga practice, the A-U-M sound vibration, what I learned as the primordial vibration frequency that was there when the universe was created while connecting us with the present and future and essence being. Today, I pay more special attention to the vibration of my own Om chant, transmitted through my thumbs pressing my heart, and through my heart that’s gently pressing my thumbs.
The intention of this Text: The month is October 2020. Looking at the sunny blue crisp sky of October, I wonder if this is what Buddha’s mind looks like all the time. I bet, if he writes a thesis document, it has no ‘filler,’ (just like this…!) holding just honesty and clarity. I feel a faint touch of chilly winter wind, reminding me that this clear sky shall also pass. I was trying to recover from a kind of anger that I was personally dealing with while searching for ways to transition from a natural dye experiment of glorious summer to a new studio practice endeavor, which is to say another method for me to be present and engage with the core of my being through making. Looking back summer, by spending a lot of time in nature- nature as my Guru- nature as ‘a way,’ I had many felt experiences, where I felt at home– home sweet h(om)e.
As I understand reflection as a type of methodology, the following writing employs Reflexive Methodology as a way to process my studio practice and experience through making. while summarizing my new gained knowledge for spiritual aspiration through Suminagashi. which I will discuss in detail later.
Frustration and Anger: But first, let’s begin with October 5, a month into a new semester. I was walking in the woods collecting nature sounds, and desperately hoping to get some inspiration, and perhaps find that much needed inner quietude. After a couple hours of ‘collecting sounds’ in nature, I headed home only to discover that my ‘collecting’ miserably failed, covered by the noise of the autumn diagonal wind, which could be harsh.
For the next 2-3 weeks, I found myself ferociously eaten by technological devices, all the cords were starting to look like coils of snakes choking me psychologically, eating up my motivation.
My mind was getting louder and louder with all the pressures, stress and ANGER. –Oh, please, I need silence. But hey! Welcome to School of Authenticity, Faculty of Wholeness. First admission requirement: experience anger and sit with it as long as it takes to dissolve. There is no error. Buddha would agree. Is anger part of my methodology then? –It certainly makes me question many things. This anger and frustration of not working out has brought me to this question: what is silence anyway, for me to want it? The more anger I held, the more I could feel I had distanced myself from the opposing force, my h(ॐOm)e, the space I want to go to, which I am understanding as a sense of nothingness, the silence –the void. If it is void, in which silence exists, is silence one can ‘have’ in the first place? Surely, it is easy to have a SONY’s noise-canceling headphones (if you have a couple of hundred bucks) but even with that headphone, noise is never actually canceled so to speak. In fact, it is producing a type of sound that resembles ‘silence’ so that the listener thinks that they are in silence (relatively speaking).
Silence… Sound… Silence… sound…
two words start spinning in my head. –What are they? And how can I understand them more?
Silence as vibration:
Silence has been repeatedly raised as an object of contemplation (again tricky use of the word) in the spiritual path. According to Krishna Das, and kirtan artist, “it is in silence that the heart must hear. The silence is the absence of the small ‘self.’ The silence is the reality” (Krishna Das 18). I’ve also learned through all my Spiritual literature, that silence is pure awareness, joy itself, the bliss- whether I reach that state or not. So it’s quite apparent that silence is key for inner peace and it seems that it is the essence of well-being. If silence is this central to one’s spiritual path, I wonder, is there a way for me to practice silence in my art, rather than logically trying to comprehend with my rational mind?
Soundas vibration:
The thing is, part of me still wanted to intellectually ‘understand’ silence. It seemed essential for me to understand sound and silence together as Krishna Das states that sound is made through the vibration of our molecules and all sound is held in the silent sound (20). “The sound is the movement. It is the beginning of vibration. The first sound is vibration. (…) We are essentially vibration” (18). He further continues sharing how sound is vibration – Nāda, therefore, everything is sound and everything becomes vibration, including each of us is vibrating on various levels. This leads me to wonder if I can BE silence itself since we are essentially vibrations. How can I understand the nature of my essence being by understanding the quiet vibration of Anhata or by being that silent vibration itself?
Encounter with Suminagashi:
Around the same time, my mentor artist friend from the UK kindly recommended me to try Suminagashi. Suminagashi is a beautiful Japanese marbling technique derived from Shinto and Buddhism as early as 1200. Her email read something like how Suminagashi made her think of my work, particularly the natural dye work I did during summer. She also mentioned how Suminagashi is about the influence of the environment, working as a kind of a snapshot of a time and a place. Time and place, these two words had been mesmerising me for a while now, especially with my interest in sound and silence. Her short email and these two key words were enough to decide me: it was time to investigate what Suminagashi can offer me, and most importantly, I wondered if it could give me ‘silence?
Suminagashi Trial:
Before thinking too much, I prepared myself with all the materials after simple research. After all, this is practice-led research plus I could appreciate Zen teaching: Just practice. Suminagashi only requires: Japanese Sumi ink, two Chinese (Japanese Kanji) brushes, natural fiber paper, pearl size liquid soap and a water tray were all I needed. It’s as simple as what my cat needs– water, food, a sunny spot, and sleep. Boom! Peace.
(My Suminagashi station: Top view, 2020)
Looking at the alternating colours of black and white/void on the water in the Dollarama cat litter box, now my Suminagashi tray, I witnessed the eternal duality of light and darkness. Yet. their inseparability showed me how there is light already in the darkness and darkness already in light- a beautiful yin and yang orchestra. As I observed, ink expanding, dissolving, and sometimes sinking, I realized how everything in this universe has both forces of destruction and creation. “The gravitational waves, emanating from black holes, expanding and contracting space, are vibrations (…) This is Universal Consciousness” (Krishna Das 16). I could hear Krishna Das whispering in the back of my head. Watching ink moving in the water was like watching black billowing smoke. Suddenly, I found myself caught in “metaphysical play” (Ram Dass) of constant unknowns, but in a liberating way, releasing me from all desires to perfect or control, just like natural ink also did that to me in the summer. It was as if the ink and water were dancing and swirling together to eternal bliss and existed in each others’ innate essence accepting each other. They were both ink and water and not water and ink at the same time, and in that ungraspable formlessness I felt I was close to ‘silence.’ In that, existed was my clarity. I grabbed a piece of rice paper. The warm inviting texture of rice paper already gave me a sense of nostalgia. After all, I am Japanese and that is where I physically come from, born with this body and bred until I was 20. Although the sense of Japan is rich and will always be an important aspect of my life, a big part of me was seeking a deeper sense of ‘home’ through Suminagashi– home beyond time and space, in which the silent vibration is held. I placed the paper on the surface of the water to capture the very wave. Is this what surfers experience in the ocean, catching the wave, connecting them at the moment? In no second, the floating spiralling ink gravitated toward the paper as if it had a life of its own, its quickening energy appeared on the surface of the paper before I knew. “The vacuum is flush with yearning, bursting with innumerable imaginings of what could be” (Barad 13). Karen Barad’s quote was a perfect companion, describing what I saw. I carefully removed the paper out of the water and took a close look at the first sight of ‘my Suminagashi’- more correctly, I shall say, the intermingling symphony of water and ink which responded to my Anahta vibration in visual form.
I started to dip the tip of a brush in the centre of the water and the black circular shape started to emerge going outward. I dipped the tip of another brush in the centre of that black circular Sumi surface, which reminded me of Bindu- a Sanskrit word meaning point or dot, Cosmic egg, “from which everything has emerged” (Saraswati 63). This “inner point of illumination (…), light of the Self”(63) is “transcendental awareness” itself, which is “here, there and everywhere” (63).
(The circularity of Time, 2020)
Circular Healing through Circularity of Time:
Suminagashi is not about controlling or making it precise. This allowed me to experience a sense of joy because there is nothing to cling on, even if I wished. In the absence of hard edges, it is as if I can let go of my sufferings from categorization (Krishna Das), one of the favored tendencies of modernity. As I continued to practice Suminagashi a couple more rounds, I was starting to see more and more faith in Suminagashi. Resembling like a tree trunk, I soon realized that the outermost layer of the circle represents the oldest in time. Suminagashi was also becoming an excellent instrument through which I experienced the circularity of time, where there seemed no ending nor beginning, contrary to the modern linear concept of time in which I have been buried these days with millions of deadlines. Similarly, Robin Will Kimmer, an Indigenous Professor shares Nanabozho’s wisdom on time as follows; “time is not a river running inexorably to the sea, but the sea itself –its tides appear and disappear, the fog that rises to become rain in a different river. All things that were will come again (…) in circular time, these stories are both history and prophecy, stories for a time yet to come. If time is a turning circle, there is a place where history and prophecy converge – the footprints of First Man lie on the path behind us and on the path ahead” (Kimmerer 207).
I looked at the work in my hand again, as I acknowledged the material manifestation of my deeper self– a footprint of my being that was now localized in time and space.
Suminagashi as Method:
Without being aware, I was writing down lists of questions and thoughts around Suminagashi. Just within under 5 minutes, the page was filled. Whether I am having a long relaxing bath or walking in the woods, or lying down on mother earth on a nice sunny day, how can Suminagashi, function as a visual interface, mapping my internal sacred sound? What does my essence being look like? How can my art practice function as proof that I was home sweet h(ॐOm)? How does the trace of joy appear in Suminagashi? What does it mean to understand “the eternal sound that is in all of us and connects us with the greater Universe” (Krishna Das 16)? Or perhaps Suminagashi can function as an X-Ray, representing my mental cavity. What do I learn from it?
(A note with my thoughts as I reflect on Suminagashi, 2020)
How can Suminagashi help me with spiritual holistic ways of knowing ‘truth?’ How does Suminagashi increase my awareness, compassion, and intuitive heart? The list went on.
(Mind map around Suminagashi, 2020)
Where is the Art?:
My next important question was; where is the art? Noticing Suminagashi’s gift, its ability to soothe me, I was wondering if the art is the finished product or the process itself. In conjunction with my wish to practice Sumiganashi in nature/ or together with nature, allowing its vibration to also appear on the paper, I decided to bring my mini Suminagashi kit to High Park. That whole week of November 10 was a brief return of the sun. I knew I shouldn’t miss the opportunity given by Father Sky, which I learned as a great way to be present from my own experience in summer: Follow the weather. Let’s salute the sun with Suminagashi. Yet again, without thinking too much, I put on my hand-sewn Sadhana tank top which I made in Thinking Through Making class, and headed to the park.
Suminagashi-nature:
I arrived at my usual spot in the park and threw my picnic blanket to set up my mini Suminagashi Station. The cat litter box was replaced by a disposable baking tray. Despite the fact that the park was busy with visitors, I was lucky to find a spot where I could be alone and serene. Next, I set my iPhone across from me and pressed the record button. I sat in my usual seated meditation pose feeling protected and a little proud of this indigo blue Sadhana blanket I made, which to me was a portrait of this autumn blue sky.
(My Suminagashi station in the park, 2020)
I started to connect to my breath and ground through Mother Earth relatively easily. The credit certainly goes to this Anima Mundi tank top (2020) as well, magnifying my sense of comfort and oneness consciousness, just as I intended for the making. It was my wish to make a wardrobe that grounds me, allowing me to be myself. With my body now still and in a peaceful state, I could notice that there was actually some wind but still warm enough for just wearing a tank top. The sun is caressing my skin, I simply felt great. I held the brushes and started practicing- it was time for Suminagashi-nature. I observed how wind affected the current of water, affecting the design of the work in a charming way. I picked pine needles to swish water here and there since they were just there waiting to be a collaborator. The pointy nature of pine needle added some softness to the design. Engaging with materials around me at a given moment is the building block for my epistemological foundation. On a surface level, it shows me the beauty of the season, while on a deeper level, it echoes an inevitable destiny of soul, which conceives my karmic actions at a given moment in life.
(Suminagashi• tating, Performance video 2020)
In just under 10 minutes or so, six mini end products were lying on the grass still wet. I sat still closing my eyes while they were getting dried. Integrating my Suminagashi into Sadhana I guess I was Suminagashi• tating (as in meditating) and performing at the same time, which challenges the conventional notion of performance art, taken out of the theatre paradigm. The video shows my process-based way of making, weaving an important thread going through my investigation into authenticity and cultivation of presence.
Bath-suminagashi:
I have gone far afield in search of how I can take Suminagashi into the next dimension. I was particularly in the search for ways in which I could possibly blur the distinction between subject and object divide of myself as a maker – the subject, and art – the object. I couldn’t help but notice the fact that I was outside the Suminagashi tray, the world I sought to know. The more I practiced Suminagashi, the more that very distance started to bother me. On November 7th, floating in the bathtub after a long day, staring at the wave, I was in a deep thought bubble again, bothered by that very ‘distance’ between myself and suminagashi. Bath is one of my favorite times of the day if I manage to squeeze one in. I have read lots of books as I bathe with a glass of wine somewhere nearby. There is nothing quite as rewarding as having a long hot bath on cold days. Perhaps that is something still very Japanese about me. It is a space of freedom, releasing my worries and stress, I feel at home sweet h(om)e. Suddenly, I knew my next endeavor had to take place HERE. Let it be Bath-suminagashi. Not only I thought Bath-suminagashi would be a perfect way in which I could visually map my silent vibration, the potential to be with the materials from inside the bathtub excited me. This may help me experience oneness, blurring the distinction of subject and object. Next day, Bath-suminagashi was practiced, again without deep thought. After all, that is the nature of who I am. Just a little crazier than ordinary people in a playful way, which I call as radical playfulness. Radical playfulness has no judgmental thoughts and acts thoroughly from the present moment, negating conventional, traditional thought from the past. I knew that Sumi ink is made of animal fat, the soot of lamp oil, not as toxic, water-soluble, and eco-friendly. It was something that I could safely and comfortably imagine being with than, say, water diffused with acrylic paint, the plastic product of modernity that encourages us to rush, proof that we are bound by time. My intuition gave me a go sign to go ahead and be one with ink. Before having a second thought, I brought all the materials, except for the cat litter tray to the bathroom, because I had a much better tray this time- the bathtub, in which I found myself a moment later.
(Setting up for Bath-suminagashi, 2020)
The moving waves became still as I extended my legs and arms, closing my eyes just as I usually do when I bathe. I allowed my body to float, relaxing every tiny muscle in my body and simply breathed, perhaps a couple big sighs. Nothing to do, nowhere to go– the best kind of mantra. I opened my eyes and held brushes, as I felt ready to begin. I dipped in the first brush with ink. Because the water was warm, the ink did not spread as first as I wished. But I guess that wasn’t the point. This is Bath-suminagashi, infused with Tim Ingold’s Thinking Through Making, literally experiencing materials from inside rather than outside. The visually perceivable interplay of ink and water much larger in its scale now observed from the bathtub, I could not leave my eyes away from this living being. In that sense, I was easily ‘their’ servant, not the maker any longer. This was a psychedelic experience without Psilocybin.
Experience the quietness at the core of your being. Experience the non-clinging quality that allows everything to be here, but nothing to be held on to. Experience your heart as liquid, flowing energy that is compassion. – Ram Dass
(Bath•suminagashi is home sweet h(om)e, 2020)
Fluid Momentum:
Suminagashi was the living liquid flowing compassion. I placed a piece of paper, as my intuitive heart suggested but I only realized that it was more challenging being in the bathtub this time. At first, I thought that ink was being sucked onto the paper, but then it was more accurately put as it was ‘wanting’ to be manifested into a material object – the ink giving itself form on the paper into relative reality. Ink was the subject, whose desire to ‘become’ was witnessed by my eyes. The temporarily fluid evolutionary momentum between (nothingness and birth), was witnessed (Sambhava). At that moment, I realized Suminagashi’s another role as a great karma theory teacher who clearly articulated the continuum of consciousness, and that the nature of our being is beginningless and endless. I am “without boundaries to my interconnectedness with limitless dimensions and universes” (Sambhava 26). What I received from Sminagashi was a cosmic map projecting my place in the universe, – a fingerprint of my true being. In this cosmic journey, the liquid flowing compassion is a ticket, that transcends all opposites and washes all the constricting categories of this world (Easwaran 179).
(Cosmic map, 2020)
It just is:
Draining water, as I wrap up Suminagashi for the night, I face one of the cons of practice-led research, – a darkened bathtub is a product contingent on the absence of my thought – proof of my presence. Yet, I didn’t foresee the chaos of the after-party, which was inevitable with Bath-suminagashi. But being a thesis warrior as I was, I quickly put on a pair of yellow industrial gloves and got myself on it. There was no time to waste. Ah! I was trapped by time again. During this maneuver of cleaning battle which I least desired, however, I was able to recognize the nature of chaos at the same time– that chaos is in the drop of bliss and that bliss is in the chaos always and already. And that this also shall pass and that all is one. As I watched water flume away into the bliss source, the drain, I heard “Cosmic Giggle” (Ram Dass) from the eternal, which sounded nothing like Om. But I didn’t mind.
It just was.
Works Cited:
Be Here Now Network. “Ram Dass – Here and Now – Ep. 148 – Krishna and the Seeker.” YouTube, uploaded by Be Here Now Network, 20 Aug. 2020, www.youtube.com/watch?v=0g2IIG5dEmU&ab_channel=BeHereNowNetwork. Barad, Karen. Karen Barad: What Is the Measure of Nothingness: Infinity, Virtuality, Justice: 100 Notes, 100 Thoughts: Documenta Series 099, Hatje Cantz, 2012. Easwaran, Eknath. The Bhagavad Gita, 2nd Edition. 2nd ed., Nilgiri Press, 2007. Hersey, Baird, and Sri Krishna Das. The Practice of Nada Yoga: Meditation on the Inner Sacred Sound, Inner Traditions, 2013. Kimmerer, Robin Wall. Braiding Sweetgrass. MilkweedEditions, 2014. Sambhava, Padma, et al. The Tibetan Book of the Dead: The Great Book of Natural Liberation Through Understanding in the Between. Translated Edition, Bantam, 1993. Saraswati, Swami Satyananda. Yoga Nidra/2009 Re-Print. 6th Edition, Yoga Publications Trust/Munger/India, 2009.
