Hopniss Rosary

Last week I attended Jeff Carreira’s meditation retreat in Flat Rock, North Carolina.  Every day after the morning meditation and breakfast, I went for a walk on the beautiful grounds of Highland Lake Cove.
  

There was a loop trail that bisected the lake full to the brim with blooming lotus flowers.  I took numerous photos of the blooming lotuses and felt the perfection of their presence on the retreat.  But it was another plant that I had never seen before that caught my attention.

One day I happened to be strolling slowly next to the lake and I spied something pink in the tangle of plants near the water’s edge.  I squatted down to get a closer look and found a vine with a small, multi-tiered flower that reminded me of a pea plant.  I took lots of photos and sketched it later that day. 

When I googled the photo I learned it was the American Groundnut (Apios americana) …also called Indian potato, potato bean, cinnamon vine, hodo-imo, or hopniss.  The North Carolina Extension describes it as “a native perennial vine in the legume family and is found in tidal and non-tidal marshes, wet thickets, stream banks and bottomland forests. It has edible fruits and large edible tubers that provide numerous health benefits. Although the fruit and seeds are edible, it is the tuber that is most desirable but the only place it is cultivated as a food crop is in Japan. The vine can grow 8-16 feet long.”  It has been described as a North American equivalent of the South American potato (1).   It was cultivated by Native Americans as a staple food source and was also an important food source for the pilgrims (2).  Efforts have been made to domesticate the tuber, but the plant doesn’t easily lend itself to this as it may appear far from where it is planted and takes a couple years to produce tubers (1).

Hopniss tubers (4)

One of my favorite things to do when I encounter a new plant is to research its spiritual significance.  It seems every plant in the world has a spiritual connection attributed by humans and hopniss is no exception. In 1590 a plant in Virginia was described as, 

“Openauk, a kind of root of round form, some of the bigness of walnuts, some far greater, which are found in moist & marish grounds growing many together one by another in ropes, or as though they were fastened with a string. Being boiled or sodden they are very good meat.” (1)  

This root was indeed hopniss, or, as the French like to call it, la patate en chapelet, because of its visual resemblance to a rosary (3).  There were several historical references by the French to the root which they described as tasting “very good like truffles.”   The Jesuits also wrote about the Native Americans eating the tuber “that our French call the rosary” and looking for the tuber when famine threatened, only to find they were already mostly harvested by the native tribes (3).  Weirdly, I found this religious reference to the rosary adorable.  It made me envision a fairy-tale giant sitting with a potato-string rosary thumbing his potato beads.  I was raised Catholic but have never said the rosary.  I remember having to memorize certain prayers in the fifth grade and being nervous to recite them.  Researching the rosary this week I can see that it is a beautiful practice to commune, ponder the mysteries and quiet the mind, even if it is with a string of potatoes.  

The different Native American tribes also called the plant by many different names, including “nu-nu, chicamins, maskoseet, and chiquebi.”  Specifically, the root word for the plant in Algonquin was “pen,” and occurred in various forms such as “openauk” (mentioned above) and “penak.”  Even the word “Hopniss” can be traced back to this root word: o-pen-niss (2).   When I read this, I couldn’t help but chuckle because the retreat was about being an “open” portal to the divine, or consciousness, or universal energy.  Magically, the name of the plant I just happened to find while walking at the retreat is a direct reminder to remain open. One of my main takeaways from the retreat was the realization that to be “open” means taking life in whatever form it comes.  I may think I prefer vanilla, but if I am utterly open to the moment, a preference for chocolate might arise.  I know this is a simple example, but the implications are huge.  It also means remaining open even when things don’t go “my way.”  This is beautiful in concept, but I have found not always easy in practice.  But life offers me daily opportunities to practice and so I do.  In hindsight, I have often found that what I thought was “against” me was surprisingly in my best interest.  I have even come to the realization that ultimately it is all “for” me, regardless of what I perceive as “good” and “bad.”  This deep faith in life has not come easily, but perceiving the world in this way eases suffering when adversity arises.  It also helps me remain open to solutions instead of focusing on resistance and frustration.   

After reading about the hopniss references, one to the rosary and the other to openness, I pondered both concepts and let them steep for a few days.  After stewing, the tangled vine of ingredients melded into one flavor (Hah!  I think the word “rosary” was reminding me of “rosemary”! … alas, one should never write while hungry).  What arose may very well be the world’s first spiritual poetry about hopniss. 

Hopniss Rosary

We are all connected underground, you and I

Our plump bodies tied by a string

Each of us a delicious prayer

A luminous, joyful, sorrowful, glorious mystery

Hail to the mother, full of grace and starch

Blessed is the fruit of thy womb

Around the circle, potato petitions

One rhizomatous corded connection

Delectable tuberous portals we are

Storing the light of the sun in the dark

We drink the rain, we grow

Above ground, vine spiraling upward

The cross we bear, a rose-colored bloom

Tiers of passion and pink

My body will feed you.

In the beginning and the end,

Above and below

We open

Openauk

Sources

(1) https://honest-food.net/harvesting-eating-american-groundnuts/comment-page-1/

(2) https://radix4roots.blogspot.com/2009/06/happiness-is-root-called-hopniss.html

(3) https://earlycanadianhistory.ca/2020/11/09/a-root-that-our-french-call-rosary-foodways-in-indigenous-and-french-north-america/

(4) https://www.cultivariable.com/instructions/root-crops/how-to-grow-groundnut/

Santa Fe Watercolor: Red Congo Philodendron

"Drinking the light
She grew more lovely every day
Her beauty filled the space"

Have you ever had the experience of buying a plant, bringing it home, and placing it the perfect location in the perfect pot?  It is exhilarating to me!  When we travelled recently to visit our friends in Santa Fe, New Mexico we wanted to buy a gift for our hosts.  Originally I wanted to buy flowers, but I couldn't find anything that excited me.  We stopped by a plant nursery and found this "Red Congo" philodendron.  I wasn't sure about it in the store.  But we purchased the philodendron and headed back to the house.

When we arrived, we placed it in a beautiful, thick crock that had been empty on the back porch and then headed out to dinner.  Later, I was walking to the kitchen and saw it through the window.  I stopped walking because I was struck by its perfection in that spot.  The bi-colored leaves and character of the plant seemed to call out to me to notice how incredibly lovely they were.  In that moment, I knew I wanted to do a watercolor painting of the whole scene.

"A beautiful plant is like having a friend around the house." — Beth Ditto

When I got home I Photoshopped several photos together to fit the beams and floor into the picture.  I also made the plant a little larger as I wanted to imagine what it would look like once it filled the space.  Below is a time lapse video of me painting the philodendron in her new home.

Music by moodmode-studio from Pixabay 
(Fun fact: I originally had piano music for this video, but the leaves on the plant looked like snake heads to me.  So I searched for snake charmer music and ended up with this awesome song!)

"The 'Red Congo' is more than just a plant; it's a symbol of life's interconnectedness. As you care for it, you're reminded of your place in the larger ecosystem and the importance of nurturing relationships, not just with plants but with people and the environment." —Source: Greg

This quote reminded me that I would like to thank our hosts for many years of lovely visits to Santa Fe. The homemade bagels, delicious meals, and cozy chats in the library are so appreciated.  It feels like home and we feel the love every time we go.

I ordered these notecards with the watercolor scene and they arrived yesterday.  I am going to send them on to our friends.

I have been taking a break from doing any large art projects this year.  But painting this scene (and our entryway) has been so enjoyable to me.  I was thinking about why I like it so much and it is a combination of things.  I like being open to being struck by beauty.  It happens quite often and I am not able to paint everything that strikes me that way.  I have enough inspiration to last me a lifetime.  But every so often, it's like an object or a scene calls out and demands to be painted....like they want to "be seen" in all their splendor.  I am like a "receiver" and when I come across said beauty it feels like a specific call to my heart.  It's like the universe asks, "What does Vanessa love?"  It seems to know how to capture my attention.  And I love "the seeing" and "the finding."  When that connection is made between the object and my attention it feels like that moment when two magnets connect... there is a strong pull and that magic moment when they touch.  Once that happens, I feel like it is my task to attempt to re-create the object or scene...to show the world this marvel.  Making art is a way of being intimate with the world...a way of being close and spending time with beauty.  It is presence, joy and love incarnate.  I feel so fortunate to be able to live a life of listening... and even more lucky to attempt to answer its call.     

"What will the sketcher see?
His eye is accustomed to search into the cause of beauty,
and penetrate the minutest parts of loveliness."
—John Ruskin

Indigo Intuition

 

"Always be on the lookout for the presence of wonder." – E.B. White

This blog post is a tale of indigo magic.  Yes, it is a story of synchronicity... but also of being a willing and ready participant.  I think for synchronicity to be realized, one has to be "on the lookout" and have an openness to receiving.  How many times have we missed something that was right under our noses?  We may never know.  But I now have my eyes and ears open.  I am a highly visual person, and I sometimes think of myself as "listening intently with my eyes."  What am I listening for, you ask?  I am listening intently to life... I am fully present and ready for awe and wonder to arise.  And it does.  Here is one such story.

BOOK INSPIRATION
Last December The Mystery School Press published my children’s book, “Little Bird and the Quest for Happiness.”  The book is about a Little Bird who travels far and wide on a grand quest looking for happiness.  She meets many wise beings and finds more than she expected on her journey through indigo fields, mountains and valleys.

Available on Amazon.

My inspiration to write the book came from my obsession with two things: aphorisms and folk art.  The writing was inspired by Jack Kornfield’s “Buddha’s Little Instruction Book.”  This is a book of Buddhist proverbs which I have returned to so often the pages are now falling out.  

And the inspiration for the art came from a book I got at a library sale many years ago called “Chinese Indigo Batik” by Lu Pu.  I have always loved folk art and the book contains page after page of beautiful illustrations of white on blue flowers, birds, plants and repetitive motifs found in traditional Chinese batik.  The images are often imaginative, and you can find fish with butterfly wings and birds turning into flowers.  Over the years, these gorgeous images have inspired Christmas cards, linocut prints, and most recently, my book.

Linocut carving for a Christmas card of a "bird flower pomegranate" 

I also loved Lu Pu's book because navy blue is my favorite color and I have a fascination with traditional craft and handiwork.  In the beginning of the book he outlined the process of making the batiks in great detail.  He described how the leaves of Polygonum tinctorium (Japanese Indigo) are fermented to make the blue dye.  And how beeswax and paraffin wax are applied with special tools to make the design.  Then the waxed cloth is put into a vat of dye and the parts covered with the wax remain white.  The wax is then removed with boiling water to reveal the white and blue designs.

"Indigo is the color of intuition and perception." – Unknown

I am telling you these details about the book because I loved this book on many levels.  It had a major influence on my artwork through the years and my love of the style was the main reason I wrote "Little Bird" in the first place.  

SANTA FE, NM
Fast forward six months and I found myself travelling to visit family friends in Santa Fe, New Mexico.  One of my favorite things to do in Santa Fe is to go shopping.  Pre-pandemic I always liked to go to a store called “Traveler’s Market.”  This was an antique mall of sorts, but instead of antiques from the US, it had antiques from around the world.  The market always had a mystical, otherworldly feel to it and I was always amazed at the diversity of items to be found.  So, needless to say, I was very disappointed to find out that the market had closed since the pandemic.  I asked the friends we were staying with if it had moved, and they didn’t know.  I did a quick internet search to see if I could find any mention of it, and came up empty-handed.  One day when I was in town, I stopped at an information booth to see if they knew.  The woman didn’t know but phoned someone who said that a few of the booths had moved into a smaller location.  I wasn’t sure I would have time to find it and decided to let it go, perhaps for another day.  

"It is always with excitement that I wake up in the morning
wondering what my intuition will toss up to me,
like gifts from the sea. I work with it and rely on it.
It’s my partner." ― Jonas Salk

The next day it kept popping up in my mind. So I hunted down the exact address, and my husband and I found our way to a very non-descript old mall.  When we entered the building, we discovered a large room with about ten booths filled to the brim with antiquities from around the world.  An old man greeted us and we chit-chatted with him for a bit.  He told us that maybe a third of the booths had moved to this location and that there was one more room next door.  I wandered around the first room admiring the Tibetan jewelry, African carvings, and amazing rugs.  To be honest, I was a little disappointed this was all that was left of the Traveler’s Market.  But we continued on to the second room.  As I entered, I could see one booth had stacks of textiles neatly folded against the wall.  They were mostly dark blue.  As I got closer, a white-on-blue motif on one of the folded edges caught my eye.  I picked up the fabric and spread it out on the table.  I couldn’t believe my eyes!  I was greeted with white-on-blue fish and bird motifs… in the EXACT same style that inspired my children’s book.  This is a VERY specific style that only occurs in the southwest provinces of China.  I was blown away.

The woman tending the booths in this room saw me looking at the fabric and came over.  I told her that I had just written a children’s book that was inspired by the exact style printed on this fabric.  She told me that she was going to call the booth owner and have her come over… that she would love to hear my story because her mother was a children’s book author too.  I looked at the price tag and saw it was clearly above what I could pay.  I told her not to call, but it was too late.  She was already dialing.  

Within five minutes a kind-faced woman appeared and introduced herself as Pam.  She told me how she had travelled to China to be a school counselor.  While there she travelled to remote villages and became interested in the textiles of the area.  One day she was invited inside the house where she saw the bed coverings which were decorated with the Chinese batik motifs of birds and fish and butterflies.  The locals showed her how they not only wove the fabrics but also used a wax-resist dying technique with indigo to create the designs.  Pam became enamored with the textiles and became a collector.  In an effort to support this traditional work, she now sells both Miao textiles and silverwork on her website here.  Below are a couple of the photos she shared.

Applying the traditional wax design before dyeing. Photo credit: Pam Najdowski

Guizhou province (where my textile came from) Photo credit: Pam Najdowski

We chatted for some time, and it was fun to meet someone else interested and so knowledgeable in this obscure style.  After a while I thanked her but told her I could not afford to purchase her fabric.  She told me she would sell it to me for half the price marked.  I told her I would think about it. 

"There is a voice that doesn’t use words. Listen." – Rumi 

As I pondered whether or not to buy the fabric, I couldn’t help but appreciate the strange coincidence.  What are the chances that this folk-printed fabric from the Miao region of China would come into the hands of a woman from Cincinnati, Ohio who had just been inspired to create a children’s book in that style?  When I think about this, I am in awe at how the universe works.  But at the same time, I believe I am an active participant in this magic.  I like to live on the constant lookout for beauty.  I am like a great blue heron standing exquisitely still with my feet in the water.  I am always waiting and watching… poised and ready for a juicy fish to swim by… ready to gobble it up.

And gobble it up I did.  The day before we flew out, I returned to the store and am now the proud owner of an authentic wax-resist indigo-dyed Chinese batik made in the hills of Guizhou province.  That fish sprouted wings and flew back to Ohio with me.  

Fish sprouting wings

This gorgeous textile now resides on my piano and is a reminder to always be on the lookout for the miraculous… a reminder of the magic of my own indigo intuition.

  

  

A Reflection on Stillness: Bubo on the Round Table

“Look at a tree, a flower, a plant [a cat].
Let your awareness rest upon it.
How still they are, how deeply rooted in ‘just being’.
Allow nature to teach you stillness.”
― Eckhart Tolle

This illustration came about because we got new couches a while back. I used to sit on the couch that faced the back of the house...but when the new couches arrived, the smaller couch needed to face the front of the house to allow passage to the back of the room.  And George didn't like the feel or the width of the smaller green couch, so we traded places.  Every time I sat on the couch I would look at the front door from this exact vantage point.  I often admired the composition.  I love the way the table juts out perfectly above the little stool by the front door...and the way the round mirror fills the space and references the round light fixture.  The whole scene brings me joy.  But when Bubo hopped up on to the table, he took the composition to a whole new level of WOW!  The way his paw hung over the edge was too cute and I knew I had to draw it.

I began by taking a photo.  Once Bubo realized I wanted a photo, he hopped down.  But I had patience and knew he would be back.  A couple days later I was rewarded and got my shot.  I adjusted a few minor details in Photoshop and then traced a pencil sketch from the printed photo.  I then used carbon paper to transfer my pencil sketch onto watercolor paper.  I often make little changes to the composition before I ink the final drawing.  After I have the ink drawing done, it is time to paint!  This video shows the process of adding paint and colored pencil. (Turn on the sound!)  

  

(Music by Aleksey Chistilin from Pixabay)

"The quieter you become, the more you hear."  ―Ram Dass

I love Eckhart Tolle's quote above about learning from nature how to be rooted in being and stillness.  And I can see the question might arise, why be still?  From a practical standpoint, I think Bubo and Ram Dass would agree, "The quieter you become, the more you hear."  And I would add, "the more you see."  Being still allows a feeling of calmness to descend.  Once settled, we can pause to reflect on which way we would like to go once we enter movement again.  It helps us see our path clearly.  Or we can simply be present to the world in front of us.  Being still allowed me to notice the composition of the room I was sitting in and to be in awe at its perfection. 

"I quaked in awe for the most ordinary things."  ―Henry Shukman

"All that is required to realize the Self is to 'Be Still.'"  ―Ramana Maharshi 

Stillness also allows our very presence to come to the foreground.  When we sit still, our thoughts also tend to slow down.  And even if our thoughts continue to run around, the stillness provides a space to notice that we can observe those thoughts and not get swept away.  At times,  if we are lucky, we can realize that we are stillness itself.  It is a stillness that resides at our very core that can be carried back into life.  In truly stressful times that stillness can act as a ballast when things get rocky.  Lest we end on too serious a note, I would like to return to Bubo.  I once saw Bubo go from what appeared to be sleep, to having a lizard hanging out of his mouth in less than five seconds.  When we have a balance we can move seamlessly between stillness and movement...and that is the dance of life.    

"In order to understand the dance one must be still.

And in order to truly understand stillness one must dance.” 

―Rumi 

Mexico Meditation Retreat: Journal Excerpt

“Most of the time, the universe speaks to us very quietly…
in pockets of silence, in coincidences, in nature, in forgotten memories,
in the shape of clouds, in moments of solitude, in small tugs at our hearts.”
— Yumi Sakugawa

Listening with the Heart

I believe the universe speaks to us constantly in a thousand ways.  And as each day of the retreat went by, I could feel myself becoming more present and open to receiving her messages.  After meditation one day we had a fifteen-minute break.  I hurried back to the room to use the restroom and noticed a spider in the sink.  I have a deep reverence for spiders and carefully tried to avoid getting her all wet and went on my way.  On my walk back to the meditation hall I noticed a large spider web glistening in the sunlight.  And when I got back to the hall, I stood looking out the back window where I noticed, yet another spider web near the ground.  It was lit by the sunlight and kept flashing in the breeze.  I quietly noted all of these things and sat down to meditate.

Later during the group session we were describing what we sensed in the space between us.  The spider images flashed through my mind and I hesitated to mention them.  But then I noticed the walls of the meditation hall, which reminded me of Indra’s net and felt I had to speak up.  I told the group that in my mind’s eye I saw us all caught in a giant spider web, like the webs made of vines that composed the walls.  Just as in Indra’s net, we all felt each other’s movements and reflected each other’s brilliance.  The group picked up on the web theme and ran with it going this way and that…weaving together lovely images of our shared experience.  Towards the end someone said they appreciated my connection to nature.  It made me laugh and I said, “Well, I didn’t think this would go over well, but I also saw in my mind’s eye that SHE (the spider) devoured us all.”  The group laughed and several people commented further about being devoured by love itself.  This was just a small example, but I felt the universe was showing me how it communicates both to me and through me.

“I never wanted a quiet, sensible sort of love. I wanted to be devoured.” – Beau Taplin 

Within You is the Light of a Thousand Suns.

Within You is Unimaginable Beauty.

— Robert Adams

Another example occurred the next day when I walked into the meditation hall and noticed something out of the corner of my eye. I happened to see Don, a beautiful, humble man who is an antiques repair person, standing in the middle of the room on top of the mandala inlaid in the floor. He was looking down at it studying the wood, but also feeling the energy of standing in this most auspicious of spaces. It was a quiet and powerful scene. It happened in less than five seconds, but I was awestruck by it.

Later, when the group began our discussion, someone mentioned the mandala in the floor and said they felt the energy of it. I brought up the moment with Don and described it to the group. It was like popcorn. After I said that, someone said each of us should stand in the middle to be seen by the group…and then someone else stood up and had their time in the middle…and then another and another. It was so much fun to see how we all built the space together and it was quite a high feeling. To me, it was a sign that indeed, these “small tugs at our hearts” are the universe communicating to us if we are receptive.

The Still Point of Destruction

One day I had the song, “Love is the Seventh Wave” by Sting in my head. It has great lyrics that were pertinent to what we were talking about in the group. One phrase of the song, in particular, kept repeating in my head. And it was, “At the still point of destruction.” I bring this up because in meditation, probably around the fifth day or so, I had an experience I’ve never had before. I was sitting in meditation and I had a visual come to mind. I saw a “U” shape and there was a ball rolling up one side of the “U” and then down and up the other side. It was a subtle rolling back and forth...until the ball eventually came to a complete rest in the middle…at the still point.

In that moment I felt incredible joy…no movement, no thought, utter stillness.  After some time, the thoughts returned and I had the feeling that I was at exactly the right place at the right time. I didn’t want to be anyplace else but where I was.  There was a realization that I am almost always rushing around. But "at the still point" there was a complete and utter relaxation into the present moment and a sense of deep contentment.

At the still point of destruction

At the center of the fury
All the angels, all the devils
All around us, can't you see?

There is a deeper wave than this

Rising in the land

There is a deeper wave than this

Nothing will withstand

I said, love is the seventh wave

— Sting