What else can one do, when we think of all the things we do not know the reason for, than go look at a field of wheat?
-Vincent Van Gogh, in a letter to his sister one month before his death, 1890
During the summer of 1890, Van Gogh, in love with beauty, spent lots of time studying a field of wheat near Auvre-sur-Oise, France. He painted for us what he saw in an immortal image titled Wheatfields with Reaper (now owned by the Toledo Museum of Art.) It was one of his last works. Soon after he finished it, he walked out into the countryside nearby the field he painted with such power & passion and shot himself. He was thirty-seven. What can he teach us about loving care?...
"I myself am quite absorbed," he wrote to his sister, "in
the immense plain with wheat fields against the hills, boundless as
a sea, delicate yellow, delicate soft green, the delicate violet of
a dug-up and weeded piece of soil, checkered at regular intervals
with the green of flowering potato plants, everything under a sky of
delicate blue, white pink, violet tones."
Part of what art appreciation courses offer us is information - the technique of the painter, facts about his or her life, possible motivations, historic context. But the most important teaching, the elusive gift that lives at the essence of loving art as well as loving caregiving is this: How do we open our hearts to the Love that is always there?
The Chicago Art Institute study that revealed that most visitors were only spending seven seconds looking at masterpieces also indicated something else: The reason those visitors were only spending that seven seconds was because they were doing informational looking. Once they figured out what the painting was supposed to depict and made a brief assessment of whether they liked it, they moved on.
Wiser viewers (including a group of experts studied separately) spent much longer with a given painting, sometimes studying it for over an hour and coming back the next day and the next day to look again and again. These wiser viewers understand that great art is like a Shakespeare play, it can be seen again and again and each time the experience can become richer. Long and successful marriages or other long relationships hold the same gift - partners familiar with each other grow to appreciate new dimensions of the other with each passing day, month and year.
Many caregivers make the seven second mistake with patients. They walk in the room, take a quick look at the patient, do a rapid physical assessment and move on. In so doing, they miss the chance for a more meaningful encounter - the kind of encounter that can enrich their work as well as the life of the patient.
One requirement for great art appreication and great caregiving is that we slow down, listen for Love speaking through the artist and through us, watch for what the artist has tried to say to our hearts through our eyes. Then we need to transfer that understanding to our caregiving. For loving care requires that we slow down, listen for Love, let her light shine through us to help heal the need of another.
When we can truly appreciate the gift an artist has offered to us, we are in a special communion with the spirit of the creator. When the artist is a painting genius like Van Gogh or carries the music genius of Mozart, they create by being in touch with Love's energy. That is what great caregivers do - they engage the numinous spirit and allow it to flow through them.
Artist's, like caregivers, often suffer as they struggle up the Mt. Everest of their souls. They give all of themselves to their creations. Can we find as much courage in appreciating what they have done for us? Can we give of ourselves to others?
What is the communion between caregiver and person in need (whether that person is a patient, a fellow caregiver, or a family member?) Loving caregiving is an art. Great caregivers are great artists. The fact that their work is usually done anonymously does not detract from the genius of their accomplishments. [Indeed, Van Gogh was ignored across his career and created his masterpieces in near anonymity, selling only one of his creations during his life time.]
America's finest caregivers act anonymously as well. They are, as Mother Theresa said, doing "small things with great love."
If you seek to become a great caregiver, enter into communion with artists. It can be tough work, like caregiving itself. And that is why truly great caregivers are rare.
Work past your uncertainty about poetry and painting and listen for how the artist can inform your heart. Spend real time before exceptional art. Listen to world class music like Mozart and Beethoven and Bach again & again. Spend time with poetry by contemporary geniuses like Maya Angelou and Billy Collins. The gifts of beauty are there if we can slow down, learn, listen, and find the persistence to stay with the artist's gift until we have unwrapped it. From the passion of great artists, we can learn great caregiving. Because art and caregiving are about the same thing - passionate commitment.
As you receive these exquisite gifts of art, you will be better able to give the beautiful gift of your special presence to the people who need your help. Let the genius of great art inform your life as you learn to live the love of true caregiving.
Reflective summary:
1) Caregiving, like life appreciation, requires that we slow down, listen better, and look deeper.
2) There is more to a work of art (and a patient) than what we can see in a quick, surface glance.
3) Slowing down allows us to appreciate the humanity of the patient and, in so doing, to enhance our own humanity.
Invitation: Find a great work on the internet or elsewhere. Study it for five minutes. Read about it. Come back later and look at it again. After the first seven seconds, you will have one impression. Longer looks will cause you to see more and more as your mind moves past informational looking to the real experience of seeing with your heart. Spend some real time with someone in need. If you stay awake to the encounter, you will begin to see deeper beyond the surface of the person before you to discover the richer layers within.