Precious Cows

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Taunt
Oil on linen
34 by 20 inches

When we moved to Asheville, North Carolina, from San Francisco in 2002, I attended a classical art studio. It was my first art schooling.

I learned how to stretch linen, make rabbit skin glue, apply it onto the linen, and then prime it with oil ground. I put a lot of love and effort into it. It was my precious. I later learned that it was what the Buddha would teasingly call my cow.

“One day the Buddha was sitting in the forest with a number of monks when a peasant came by. He had just lost his cows; they had run away. He asked the monks whether they had seen his cows passing by. The Buddha said, ‘No, we haven’t seen your cows passing through here; you may want to look for them in another direction.’

When the farmer had gone, the Buddha turned to his monks, smiled, and said, ‘Dear friends, you should be very happy. You don’t have any cows to lose.’

One practice we can do is to take a piece of paper and write down the names of our cows. Then we can look deeply to see whether we’re capable of releasing some of them. We may have thought these things were crucial to our well-being, but if we look deeply, we may realize that they are the obstacles to our true joy and happiness.”

— Your True Home, Releasing our Cows, Thích Nhất Hạnh

Philadelphia, 2006, my precious cow was still blank. I was still too attached to, in my mind, its perfection. I had even hung it up like a piece of art.

Five years later in my Bella Vista studio in Philadelphia, I took a deep breath and nervously let go. Just a little bit. I made this self-portrait. But I was still overthinking at the fork in the road.

“I put on my thinking cap
Seasons passed
The eclipses
The comets
Came and went
I am still here
At the fork of the road
Under my thinking cap”

— Dan Chow

Kennett Square 2014, inspired by Vincent Van Gogh (what an amazingly insightful guy!) I let go just a little bit more, and this happened, Taunt.

“If you hear a voice within you say ‘you cannot paint,’ then by all means paint, and that voice will be silenced.”

— Vincent Van Gogh

It sat for a few more years in my Kennett Square home studio. It was still missing something, but I do not know. I was afraid to experiment on it. It was still my precious cow. But I must let go of my fears of failure. I said to myself, “Someday,” but someday is where dreams go to die!

I was still overthinking at the fork in the road and frozen by fear. Then inspiration came from playing with the image on my computer; it was cobalt teal and titanium white.

The blue background was hope and joy. But only if we would choose to notice and accept it instead of the taunts from the crows.

“Let’s not forget that the little emotions are the great captains of our lives and we obey them without realizing it.”

— Vincent Van Gogh

Everyone has their own crows that taunt them about something, as Vincent Van Gogh had. The skies may be blue and the birds singing, and yet, here you are, in a gloomy space taunted by your crows. You have let them captain your ship. That is what this self-portrait is about.

“As you start to walk on the way, the way appears.”

— Rumi

When I let go of attachments to my precious, my cows, and my crows, I notice the blue skies and I feel free again. Free to choose, free to move forward, free to be not afraid to step forward and make mistakes because it is in the mistakes I make that I could learn and perhaps become wiser than before.