I pick up the paintbrush, dip it in a deep blue hue, and gently sweep it across the canvas. Sweeping and wisping, this way and that. Turning the bristles to a rhythm only I can hear. Always returning to that first dab on the material to touch up on missed spots.
It’s a euphemism for the high holy days that are upon us, isn’t it?
This is the season of turning and returning. It’s a time when we must enter into the process of teshuva and turn away from the ways we’ve missed the mark, guiding ourselves back onto the right path.
Whether we’ve been lazy, careless, or let ego get in the way, teshuva challenges us to take note and “get with the programme”.
Teshuva is a process. It asks us to do four things: recognise, regret, resolve, and refrain.
But is it that easy? Do we simply breeze from regret into resolve? Like a fluid stroke of the paintbrush?
Or is there more creativity to it?
I see teshuva as a process of creating a new self. A blank canvas, if you will.
With introspection and dedication, we can all recognise patterns in our behaviour that harm the flow of energy and love between ourselves and those around us.
Think about it. How often have you woken up and decided that today is the day you will speak calmly? You’ll take a deep breath before you speak. And no less than a few hours later, something sets you off, and you can’t bite your tongue.
You’ve recognised, regretted, and resolved. But you just can’t refrain. It makes the entire process feel pointless.
But here’s the point. You are the artist of your life. Your actions, yearnings, choices, losses, discoveries, words both spoken and unspoken, learnings, love, guilt, and anger paint the picture of the life you’ve lived when you reach the end of your days.
Every single one of these elements is important and has a place in our pallet of life.
The extent to which you find your life a work of art depends on how deeply you engage with the raw materials we’re blessed with.
The creative process is a practice for life’s journey, in which grief, love, judgements, and thoughts are our pastels and acrylics. And just like picking up the brush, dipping it in your favourite shade and sweeping it across material – caught up in that moment – we live in the moment.
No image or map exists. We start with a desire. Something small. The feel of a brush. The pigment of colour. And then we make our mark, wisping here and there, filling in the blank spots, allowing each stroke, each moment to be guided by desire.
We add a dab of blue here. We leave a square blank just for now. Each desire calling from intuition, a place beyond the intellectual mind. A place beyond words and older than time. It truly is the source of creation, and we feel it when we create in this way. It becomes tangible.
To onlookers, it’s a way of painting that looks too simple and as if there’s no technique. The sky is streaked with a vibrant rainbow. Houses appear big and bold. Moths sprout wings. But all the time, we’re opening up to the intuition of the creator.
When you heed to the call of the moment, the inspiration flows. When we paint, we become fluid in hearing that call. It’s staying with it that’s the challenge.
Our minds are full of belief and expectation. Our ego strives to get its way, clinging rather than moving with the fluidity of creation.
When you cease to listen to the flow, you allow the ego to take control. You get stuck. Uninspired. Exhausted. To do anything more than paint by numbers becomes terrifying.
We might not be raised to be explorers of our soul, to hear the call of the universe. Rather, we’re conditioned to replicate an image of what we’re told our painting – our life – looks like. But in clinging to this safety, we miss the place of all possibility, our innate creativity.
Without this connection, teshuva is impossible. When we can’t see ourselves, know ourselves, and forgive ourselves. We bar the door to our quest. Our painting languishes, and the fullness of who we are goes untapped.
Don’t spend the great celebration of creation behind closed doors. Assume your rightful role as the artist of your life. Dare to create a world anew. In so doing, we emulate the creative process of the divine.
These high holy days, I challenge you to find the beauty of the materials on hand, the stuff of your life – bitterness, selfishness, rage, jealousy – and create a world, a self, from here.
Recognise. Regret. Resolve. Get creative.
The sacred days are supposed to renew and remind us of G-d’s creative power, and the creative power within each of us.
This season, teshuva calls us to return to our depths, to remember that we are made in the image of the divine creator. Each one of us is created creative.
We are artists. Our life is our art. Let’s go into the high holy days with the courage of spirit, openness of heart, and intrepidness of mind to notice what’s there and embrace its uniqueness as we allow it to lead us to what’s next.
Pick up the brush anew. Dip it in a golden-honey shade, and paint your way into a year that’s sweet, healthy, and full of inspiration.
May every moment of 5782 be a blank canvas for your creative expression.
- Lisa Hack is the Gauteng chairperson of the South African Union of Progressive Jewry.
