The Art of Stillness: Breastfeeding Statues

An artist in search of a model to sit for them could do a lot worse than ask the mother of a breastfed newborn. Never in my life have I sat so still for such long periods as in those first few weeks of my eldest daughter's life. At first, it seemed an impossible task: my body, tense with the fear of not getting it right, ached; my mind, used to the constant stimulation of my former life, fidgeted and paced restlessly like a caged animal. In a way reminiscent of my many attempts at meditation, I have learnt, or begun to learn, through breastfeeding, the art of coming to stillness, and - harder still - accepting it. Even now, four years on, I have nursing sessions filled with frustration and resistance, when my mind and body together refuse to accept that it's time to just be there, to just be. Sometimes, difficult feelings, dark thoughts arise, and, as in meditation, there is no easy means of escape. On other days I relish the chance to spiral inwards and float around in the depths of my consciousness, bumping into new ideas and old friends and enjoying the stillness.

On a recent trip to the Italian island of Sardinia, we made the grave error of taking two small children on a sight-seeing trip to the medieval walled town of Alghero. After a couple of hours of struggling and family arguments, it was 5pm; the heat was unbearable, the narrow cobbled lanes hard to navigate and the restaurants shut for another two hours. To create a distraction and in a desperate attempt to escape the sun, I spontaneously pulled the two girls into the Cathedral of Santa Maria Immacolata. Covered in scaffolding, it looked pretty unimpressive from the exterior, but inside, we entered another world: suddenly all was cool, marbled, and still. In a side chapel, a priest murmured Mass to a small congregation, there were candles dotted around, and everywhere paintings and carvings of the Madonna and Child. As we basked in the relief that the change in atmosphere brought, I noticed one of the statues, tucked in an alcove to the left of one of the many images of Mary:

Her left arm supports a nursing child, whilst with her right she reaches to touch the head of a toddler clamouring for her attention. A moment in time that was no doubt chaotic and stressful is immortalised here in the stillness of stone. For me, the sculpture captures a great truth about nursing; no matter how busy or fraught our circumstances, it forces us to pause, it brings a change in energy, an altered state, it is the still point of a turning world. We move as from a hot street to a cool cathedral, as from the hustle and bustle of life to the mindfulness of meditation - through breastfeeding, we discover the art of stillness.

Through return to simple living comes control of desires. In control of desires Stillness is attained. In stillness the world is restored - Lao Tzu

Sculpture is the art of the hole and the lump - Auguste Rodin

and here's one to make you smile from London Zoo:

Each image has been credited by a link back to its source. If you are displeased by being included, please contact me and I will immediately remove your photo. If you have an image that you would like to be added please also get in touch. Thank you.


.