Image: Harmony (Chaos and Order) by Christi Bonds
Course: The Seven Valleys and The Four Valleys through Creative Arts Exploration (Fall 2023)
Faculty Mentor: Peggy Caton
by Peggy Caton, William Metts, Victor Kulkosky, and Julie Loudin-Rich, with additional art and poetry from Connie Didier, Sim Chin, and Rosemary Closson
In fall 2023, students in the Wilmette Institute course The Seven Valleys and The Four Valleys through Creative Arts Exploration studied Bahá’u’lláh’s Writings through creative arts expressions such as drawing, writing, photography, music, and crafts. The course is intended both for those with a background in the arts and for those with an interest but little or no experience in this approach. Here several students share their experiences and creations.
William Metts noted, “I unquestionably gained a better understanding of the Writings presented in this course. Creating Unity in this world is working within the Bahá’í “Conceptual Framework for Action” to not only unify external elements but also to “unify” our personal, internal elements as well – our twofold moral purpose.
“I am not sure whether I have experienced any new feelings or attitudes as a result of the course. Previously, I have struggled with the idea of Art being such a powerful force in my life. This course may have helped to ease that conflict somewhat. I do know that I have improved my ability to relax and express, through words, what needs expression.
“Thinking of myself as primarily a singer/songwriter, I think that this quote works for me: ‘Intone, O My servant, the verses of God that have been received by thee, as intoned by them who have drawn nigh unto Him…’ (Bahá’u’lláh, Gleanings from the Writings of Bahá’u’lláh)
Victor Kulkosky used a metaphor to explain his experience in the course:
“To open a can of sardines requires solid commitment. With the ingenuity of recent decades, it’s still a Herculean effort, but the reward for one’s heroic struggle is great – if you like fishy, oily, salty stuff. In this course, I have opened myself up like a can of sardines. Yet the effort to slip the tab into the key and peel back the cover has actually been easier. Motivation, I suppose. I did actually cut myself on the edge of the lid and bleed a little, but such is the price of spiritual growth.
“I entered the course expecting to use verbal art as my medium of engagement, since that’s what I’ve been using for over 40 years. I did some writing in this course, but no one was more surprised than I was when I discovered drawing as my main response to the Writings. With most of my fellow learners using visual art as their medium of engagement, I felt like an outlier. (Okay, I always feel like an outlier, but I felt most of the class was more tuned in to visual art.) I also considered that using a medium in which I lack ‘skills’ might give me insights I wouldn’t get otherwise. Images form in my mind instantly, while words unfold over time and, through long habit, I edit my writing even before I set the words down.
“With drawing, I form an image. That image is simple, since it must fall within my rudimentary skill set. I don’t even know, at first, where the image comes from or what it ‘means.’ That might follow. The vital point here is, I’m not trying to create ‘Art’ with a capital A. Not in this context. I believe ‘Artists’ with greater-than-average gifts exist, but the purpose of this course is not to create masterpieces that will be auctioned for $500,000 at Sotheby’s (although, if people will pay $50,000 for works such as Bored Apes [a non-fungible token (NFT) collection built on the Ethereum blockchain], maybe I shouldn’t sell myself short). The ‘art’ is just a way of engaging with the Creative Word in a manner distinct from the dominant mode of close reading of texts. Without the burden of creating ‘Art’ and the pressure to attempt perfection, I’m freed to expose the can of sardines within me. I’ll feast for a long time.”
Student Julie Loudin-Rich commented, “At the beginning of the course, I set the following goals for myself:
-Learning to express complex spiritual concepts in an artistic way, and to reconnect with the artist within me that has been dormant for so long.
-Connecting with a spiritual community of creatives and gaining insight through the eyes of others while learning to see with my own.
-Learning how to learn in an online environment.
-Diving deeper into the Seven Valleys and Four Valleys. Every time I return to these mystical Writings, I experience personal expansion on the understanding of the Writings but still sense that I am only scratching the surface of the knowledge contained within.
-Knowing that taking this class is the first step of something new on the horizon, and that I’m excited to be on this journey.
“I have accomplished all of these goals, in addition to discovering some truths that I never anticipated. This has been an amazing journey. I knew that the experience would be life-changing, and I do feel like I am at the beginning of something new. The entire process – studying the Writings and course material, meditating, creating something from the subconscious, being brave enough to share the creation and experiences, and reflecting on the postings of others – has profoundly affected the way I approach the Writings, art, and everyday moments in my life. I will be continuing this process to explore more, and if Peggy Caton ever recovers from teaching this class and decides to host another class, I will sign up again. I also began painting regularly again, as well as studying the Writings with a new set of eyes. I’m looking into furthering my art education, either independently or through online courses. I also plan on finding my Bahá’í tribe again and finding ways of participating in spite of being all alone out here [in rural Michigan].
“I am so thankful for this course, for my fellow students, and of course for Peggy and all of the time she put into it. Part of me is sad to see the end of this, though I know that it is time for the next thing and I am happy to meet it. Love you all, be well.”
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Unity In Diversity – One Supernal Sky
by Connie Didier-Robinson
Unity in Diversity – One Supernal Sky
The artist
Creates diversity
Mixing shades of different kinds and colors
Not to mention forms and shapes
Refreshed by the waters of one spring
Revived by the breath of one wind
Forming ripples on one pool
Invigorated by the rays of one sun
Under one supernal sky
The Artist
Sets colors in motion.
The viewer’s heart rejoices
Within this container of essences
Someone sees galloping horses
Where another sees human forms
How marvelous is this diversity
How rich the human experience
Under one supernal sky
Look carefully.
Witness the unconscious made visible
Around a central point
Mandala symbols in motion
Here, man stands in a pool of water
There, cascading waterfalls flow
Into a pool where people swim
Under one supernal sky
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The Valley of Wonderment
by William Metts
“Indeed, O brother, if we ponder each created thing, we shall witness a myriad
consummate wisdoms and learn a myriad new and wondrous truths.”
(Call of the Divine Beloved, paragraph 66)
I will admit that I was having trouble with finding inspiration in this particular unit.
This morning I was looking at the bowl of fruit and vegetables on the kitchen table and imagining slicing one of the oranges. I realized that I would find a mandala inside. I was inspired to grab my phone, go outside and find as many mandalas as I could. Then I assembled them into a “Mandala Mandala.” All except one of the photos were taken right outside in my yard.
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Synthesis
by Sim Chin
The outer frame symbolizes the 4 types of wayfarers (4 Valleys). The wayfarer’s heart works their way through the 7 Valleys toward the Lodestone.
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Seeing the end in the beginning…
by Rosemary Closson
I chose to create a mandala using the cycle of an oak tree. In the Bahá’í Faith, a tree is often used to represent the significance of contributing the portion of wealth that Bahá’ís believe is from God, back to God. This enriches the individual spiritually as well as aiding the larger community because those funds are used to address humanitarian needs around the world just as the falling leaves from the tree enrich the earth from which the tree grows and draws sustenance.
This mandala also represents seeing the end in the beginning (referenced in The Valley of Knowledge). “Yet those who journey in the garden land of knowledge, because they see the end in the beginning, see peace in war and friendliness in anger” (The Seven Valleys and the Four Valleys, 1978, p.15). We see the acorn and we know it is the product of the end of a seasonal cycle for the oak tree, at the same time, it is the beginning of a cycle for a new oak. For me, it is also a metaphor for the passing of the material body and the ongoing life of the spiritual self.
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Garden
by Julie Loudin-Rich
I really enjoyed working on mandalas, more than I would have imagined. This time, instead of working with canvas and oils, I used Procreate on my iPad (that I barely know how to use). After googling on how to do the simple template on procreate, I found that I entered a meditative state easily while creating mandalas. I sketched out a few, but this is the one I felt compelled to complete.
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Stabat Mater: A Poetic Mandala*
by Victor Kulkosky
Mother of the North,
a German daughter huffing
beneath the weight of her father,
his sins visited upon the generations after.
“Popsy” she mutters in a drunken stupor.
Mother of the South
Oh my happily ever after,
were you wanted?
Your birth story was a lie
to shield your now-dead family,
another open book of sins,
but you are my true and only love,
that is, You Are Love
you are the remnant
that patched my soul
you are The Mother of All Mothers
betrothed to me
and birthing our son
before anything was born
and I breathe because of Your Spirit
Mother of the East
my father’s mother
you were love through kielbasa
sauerkraut and giant French fries
and massive meaty hugs;
you were Love unqualified.
Your ship sailed over the sunken
bones of my True Love’s ancestors
and over here,
Love raised all of us up,
and the light shines
within us and outside us.
Mother of all directions,
of things I had no words for.
Mother I couldn’t smother,
because I had to breathe.
Weeping Mother like Frida Kahlo,
but with bigger bones.
Mother whose scream
shatters the inner silence
in my bearded voice.
Mother whose emancipation
they couldn’t strangle,
that I couldn’t strangle …
Come, all my Mothers,
let’s gather in this fertile spot,
and breathe the musk
of this rose in our circle;
every other live rose
wilts in shame before it.
Let’s meet on its thorns,
and our blood will be the Holy Wine;
we will bathe in it,
we will feed each other
goblets and become astonished;
and our lips will recite
paeans without the murmur
of syllables and sounds;
and we will pull each other close
and kiss (but know that ‘kiss’
merely fills space on the page)
and the Yes of our kiss will dissolve us
into a place beyond dissolving
and so, our alienation never was.
And if it must be so,
I will raise this call tomorrow
and tomorrow and tomorrow,
awaiting Grace.
* “Stabat Mater” is the title of a Latin poem written in the Middle Ages about Mary mourning at the foot of the Cross. The first line, “Stabat Mater dolorosa,” means “The Mother stood weeping.” The text is not part of the liturgy but is often performed in churches. Many great classical composers set it to music, including the contemporary Estonian composer Arvo Pärt. I’m using the idea of “maternal” sacrifice in a broader, still spiritual sense – the sacrifice of the Sacred Feminine, both imposed and voluntary.
