Bodhidharma, the founder of Zen, is said to have sat before a rock face for nine years – until his mind was still. You don't need a rock face. A nature portrait is enough, and a few minutes. Look at the green, at the light, at whatever shows itself. Do nothing, just see. The gaze softens, the breath deepens. This is how rest begins – in the middle of the room, in the middle of the day.
Wall staring – an old practice
The story of Bodhidharma is 1,500 years old. The monk came from India to China, withdrew to a cave near the Shaolin monastery and sat down facing the wall. The Zen tradition still calls this “wall gazing”. In Sōtō Zen, zazen is practised facing the wall – the eyes are given nothing to do, and that is precisely the practice. What the mind does of its own accord becomes visible when nothing distracts it.
In English, the principle has since acquired a lighter name: wall staring. Simply sitting, simply looking. No programme, no goal. It is the shortest form of meditation there is.
Why the empty wall is too much for most of us
I tried it myself, in a waiting room, facing a white wall. After a minute I had my phone in my hand. That is how it goes for almost everyone. Researchers at the University of Virginia asked people to sit alone in an empty room for a few minutes, without a phone, without a book. Many found it so unpleasant that they preferred to give themselves a mild electric shock rather than just sit there. The eye wants something to hold.
This is not a lack of discipline. Our seeing has been directed at the world for as long as we have existed. The only question is: what do we give it?
The third possibility
The screen gives the eye something new all the time and never lets it rest. The empty wall gives it nothing and asks a lot. In between lies a nature portrait.
A blossom so large you can see its veins. A blade of grass against the light. Bark that becomes a landscape up close. The gaze finds a hold, but it doesn't use the image up. In the first seconds you see the whole. After a minute, the colours you had overlooked. After five minutes the image begins to wander – and when a ray of sunlight moves across the wall, it is a different image once again.
What museums today practise as “slow looking”, five minutes in front of a single work, happens of its own accord in front of a nature portrait. Nature has already placed the detail inside it. All you have to do is stay.
What happens then
When the gaze settles, the mind clears. Neuroscience knows a network that becomes active precisely when we have nothing external to process – it orders, connects, lets ideas arise. For that, it needs a place where the eye can rest. This is why I think of my nature portraits as a light form of nature meditation: you look, and nature does the rest. It does us good, even as a visual image, and it strengthens us because it grounds us. To me, that is Vital Art.
How it works
Sit down in front of an image you like. Let your gaze arrive – first the whole, then the colours, then the light. When thoughts come, let them pass and return to the image. Five minutes are enough. Nothing has to happen.
Bodhidharma needed the rock face. We may make it easier for ourselves: a wall one likes to stay in front of. Perhaps the image is the first step – you look, you stay, and at some point you are simply sitting there, calm, with open eyes.