I attended an Art and Spirituality workshop today given by Dave Corbett and hosted by Trinity Episcopal Church. There were many moments in those few hours that impressed me, but there's one in particular about which I've chosen to blog.
As our final project, we were invited to work on a tryptich, a three-paneled piece of art often used on altars and other sacred structures, using things cut out of magazines. There were several issues of National Geographic there and I chose one with Da Vinci's Last Supper on the cover, thinking that would provide some great religious images to use.
What really struck me most, however, was an image of two tadpoles with a caption elucidating how those beings wouldn't eat until they had reabsorbed their tails. What are they? How does it feel to have this mighty mutation occur?
These massive changes alter their very being. The journey from tadpole to frog doesn't last long but, barring outside genetic manipulation, is irreversible. It made me think of being a teen-ager. And it made me aware of my own greatly-protracted personal metamorphosis. I pondered what it was like to be Mormon and gay, how long I straddled the fence and how hard I fought not to lose the parts of myself I valued while I lost my innocence. I wondered if it ever ends.
The answer is that it never does, not for us or the tadpoles. Although there are periods of outer stasis, inside things are constantly changing or gearing up for change. Life is change as is death. We are all part of a larger cycle of life. To try to cling to one stage of development or another is to deny life itself.
Until today, if I thought of tadpoles at all, I thought they were mildly repulsive. Now they are one of the most beautiful creatures in the world.
