One Small Dot in a Seurat Painting

We are tiny dots in a vast, beautiful masterpiece, each small on our own, yet essential to something far greater than we can see. Wherever we land, we add depth, color, and purpose to the whole.

This special episode is a guided meditation that you can listen to. Something that reminds us that art, color, and imagination can transport us away from the difficulties of the world, if just for a little bit of time, to nourish, revive, and inspire us.

Know that, you can return to that green dot anytime (or any work of art that gives you a break from the chaos). Art is an antidote to the craziness.

Best wishes,

Jill

Transcript

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Hi, this is Jill Badonsky and this is a special episode of the Muse's Daydream. It's a guided relaxation using George Sarra's painting an afternoon in the island of La Conjac. Best to take a look at that painting before we begin. Find a comfortable position sitting or lying down. Probably not good to operate, heavy machinery or be driving a race car. Let your hands rest where they can relax. Slip the weight of the world lift from your shoulders. And if you want to, gently close your eyes. Take a slow breath in through your nose. And an easy breath out through the mouth. Again, breathe in. And breathe out and let your shoulders drop just a little more. Now in your mind's eye, imagine you are stepping out of the noisy world for a moment and into a quiet museum gallery. Feel the aura of art all around. Just that energy can be relaxing and a shift in scenery that sometimes can refresh us. Notice the relaxing nature of museum lighting, giving that atmosphere. And of course, the art all around. Just feeling the energy of people's creativity from years and years ago. Stroll past a few paintings, just imagine what they are. You don't need to name them. Just let them appear for a second and drift by. Swathes of color, odd faces, people's interpretations of the world. A mysterious bowl of fruit just doing its best. Ahead of you hangs Georges Sarrat's A Sunday afternoon on the island of Lacan Jacques. It's the one that has all the little dots that make a picture. You see tiny dots of color forming people, trees, shadows, pets, parasols, and light. Walk a little closer in your imagination until you can see the individual dots. And the dots become more apparent as separate entities. There's no rush. Every step you take slows time down just a little bit. As you come closer, let your attention drift toward the dots on the trees. Notice the many shades of green, deep, cool greens in the shadows, bright sunlit greens, soft in-between greens. Choose one tree and let your eye rest on a small patch of its leaves. In that patch, find a single dot of green. It might be bright and sunlit or quiet and shadowed, whichever feels most inviting to you. And allow yourself to become that one green dot. You are no longer responsible for the whole painting, the whole scene, or the whole world. In these next few moments, you're not responsible for all the responsibilities in your life, and for figuring things out that may have gone away or don't feel good. You're simply one dot of green in one small place, doing one simple job, being part of a tree. And take a gentle breath in. Dappled light, leaf shadow, the smell of the earth. No need to be specific, it can be a compilation of trees you've loved. But let yourself feel bathed in the green, the light, and the breeze of trees. Around you, the Sunday scene continues. People stroll along the river, the water lilies calm and reflective. Dogs and children move, but from your perspective, high in the leaves, everything is distant and slow. You're safe. You have a feeling of belonging to something very beautiful. Your only task is to hold this one shade of green and help this one tree exist. As you breathe in, imagine your green becoming slightly richer, slightly more alive. As you breathe out, imagine the calm green spreading gently to the dots around you. Other greens, a hint of yellow, a breath of blue. Merge with the feeling of collectively being part of a community that creates art that people can look at and be transported to a different world. Notice how your body feels. Perhaps a little bit more grounded, a little less urgent. Stay here for a few more breaths, simply inhabiting this quiet green existence. You see a cluster of leaves, the entire tree, the other trees, the people, dogs in the river returning to your view. You see the whole Sunday scene and your tiny place within it. And take one more easy breath in. Begin to feel yourself back in your real body now. The weight of you in the chair or on the bed, the air in the room, the sounds around you. And know that as you move back into your day, you can return to that green dot anytime. You can step out of the chaos for a few moments and remember that you're allowed to be one small, peaceful presence in a very large painting. And when you're ready, gently open your eyes or let your gaze soften and carry a little of that Sunday tree green with you for the rest of the day.