The Mirror Within: A Journey Back to Mindfulness

Pen and ink contemporary fine art by Doug Ashby.

Awareness: The quality or state of being aware—knowledge or understanding that something is happening or exists.

Hello again. As mentioned in my previous essay, this is the second part of a two-essay series reflecting on two similar works of art I created. Both pieces are surreal landscapes, or dreamscapes, that deal with the tension of reflection. In this case, the reflection is of the landscape in a body of water. My artwork has long felt like an unconscious signal, revealing different aspects of my personal journey that need attention. While this signal could refer to many things, it wasn’t until I added the reflection element that a profound truth began to emerge, staring right back at me. This signal, I now feel, is calling me to enter a time of greater self-awareness. It’s urging me to reclaim some of the mindful practices I lost pre-pandemic, especially in light of two major and traumatic life events. Over the last four years, I’ve faced significant challenges and, in turn, let go of tools that had once been beneficial. As a result, certain demons resurfaced, masking the reality of my life. The reflection in these artworks, I believe, is also a reflection of myself—pointing me to look both backwards and forwards, urging me to re-engage with the part of myself I lost, and from there, move forward.

Before the pandemic, I had several mindful practices in place—meditative breathing, journaling, and abstaining from alcohol. For some, the last point may seem confusing, but for me, making a deliberate, mindful decision not to drink four days a week became an important practice of self-awareness and discipline. I initially made this choice to manage my genetic high blood pressure, and it worked—I was able to reduce my dependence on medication. Unexpectedly, other benefits followed: I was happier and found myself more tolerant of the day-to-day aspects of life that had previously caused me pain, like my dissatisfaction with work. I vividly remember a conversation with a friend in late February 2020. He noted that I seemed lighter, happier. When he asked why, my answer was simple: meditation. Just a week later, the world shut down.

Looking back, I realize I was a more accepting person before the pandemic. Although my life wasn’t perfectly aligned with my internal and external values, I had reached a point of acceptance. This acceptance allowed me to focus on managing the everyday feelings of discontent rather than letting them overwhelm me. I don’t think we can always live in perfect alignment—life is too messy for that—but mindfulness brought an awareness that helped me navigate those misalignments. In essence I was mastering my circumstances, not letting them master me. After the pandemic hit, however, I lost touch with these practices, and I know I’m not alone in this experience. Compounding the situation, I went through two significant life events that a counselor later referred to as trauma. While I won’t go into the details here, they occurred from October 2022 to April 2023, just as I had begun to claw my way back toward the mindful practices I had let go of. These events threw me off course once again, and since then, I’ve merely been surviving. I’m ready for that to change.

Using the allegory of reflection within my artwork, I can say that it now serves as a mirror, pushing me to look inward again. I’ve begun asking myself daily questions like, “What promise can I make to myself today that will benefit my well-being?” or “Which part of me will show up in the world today?” These are questions I didn’t ask before; my journaling used to be more freeform, focused on feelings and art. Now that I’m a little older, I see the need for more structure in my mindfulness practices. Rituals and routines around awareness and self-reflection need to be a part of my daily life. This artwork serves as a reminder of the importance of these practices—the daily work of looking inward, cultivating self-awareness through mindfulness, and building meaningful rituals around these practices. In many ways, the surreal landscape I’ve created represents the inner realm that deserves examination.

At this moment, it’s worthwhile to reflect on what exactly I hope to discover on this journey of self-awareness. First and foremost, I want to feel better—happier. I want to show up as a better version of myself in the world. But what does that really mean? In my last essay, I discussed my desire to change my work life, to find a way to root my engagement with the economy more firmly in my creativity. Teaching art isn’t necessarily the same as being an artist, and that distinction is something I’ve struggled with. I’ve always felt most aligned with my purpose when I’m creating. Perhaps this journey of self-discovery will bring me closer to realizing that goal. I also believe that introspection and leading an examined life will only benefit my art. Often, I don’t fully understand why I’m creating the work that I do. Through mindful practices like meditation and journaling, I hope to open up pathways to understanding, which could lead to new directions in my work.

In many ways, these two essays, and the artworks that inspired them, are rallying calls for me to move forward. The act of creation, especially when born out of necessity, is in itself a mindful journey. There is so much that can be mined about who I am through the art I create, yet I haven’t explored that as deeply as I should. If I truly want to deepen this exploration, I know I’ll need to incorporate other avenues of discovery alongside it. I hope this essay doesn’t come across as self-indulgent, though I realize it may in some respects. Deep down, I feel an undeniable push to invest time and effort into personal growth—to pick up where I left off before the pandemic and the life-altering events that followed. These essays are part of that process. They are reflections that I hope will propel me in the right direction. This is not the end of my story. It’s just a new beginning—one of many I’ve yet to encounter.

As always, I hope you enjoy the artwork and writing. I would love to hear your thoughts, and I promise to respond to any comments you leave.

Thanks,

Doug