Offhand, I can think of some really wonderful moments that make me feel truly alive: like holding a newborn baby, feeling the wind on my face while out on my dad’s sailboat, playing the piano while singing with a group of elderly or handicapped people; working in a garden, and naturally, sex! The problem with all of these examples is that they are only fleeting moments, and usually it is quite out of our control whether we will experience them regularly or not.

In our everyday lives, most of us are so focused on mere survival that we quickly fall into repetitive tasks and obligations that seem devoid of life, and unless we are focused on caring for family members, moving alone through these necessary occupations often leads to a sense of isolation. If there is anything good to be said about loneliness and isolation, it is that the sheer discomfort of it pushes us to move towards reconnecting, both inside and out.

For some people, re-connection is an inner, meditative process of slowing down and finding a quiet space where they can stop and listen and reaffirm their deepest beliefs of belonging. For others it’s going for a walk, a run, a trip to the gym or an evening out with friends or family. It works best when this activity becomes a practice which is done both regularly and repeatedly, without expecting a fixed outcome. There are many ways, but for me, it’s through doing artwork that I feel most alive; more specifically, by drawing the human body.

Why drawing? Why the human body? And how does that make me feel truly alive? Drawing in itself is a very meditative practice, an activity that costs next to nothing and can be done anywhere, anytime. If you like drawing, and you consistently practice drawing, you will quickly get better at it with or without formal instruction. It is above all the art of seeing – of observing, internalizing and transposing onto paper what you imagine, or what you actually see. And it teaches us to see differently, to see deeper, and to see more.

The human body is my subject of choice for two reasons: one, because it is a fascinating miracle of nature that allows us to experience life on earth through our senses, and secondly, because it has been so badly treated, scorned and dishonored. Many religions have inadvertently made nudity and sexuality into shameful aspects of being human, and many people take better care of their cars than of their bodies, and are shocked when their health breaks down and can’t be repaired. As part of the large population of women and men who struggle with disordered eating and body image issues, drawing the body has become a way for me to tame my demons. When I look in the mirror I am critical and dissatisfied, as our culture has taught us to be, and I feel far from “truly alive”. But when I draw the human body, and even better, when I draw my own perfectly imperfect strong yet fragile, aging body, I am literally “drawn” into recognizing its marvelous functions and simple beauty. Even if the results are not worth framing and showing in a gallery – it’s the process that counts.

It seems that the contemplative act of drawing the human body, whether it be from a photograph or by studying a nude model while sketching, has the power to transform the way we see not only the human body in general, but our own insufficiently loved bodies. I have often observed this phenomenon both within myself and in others with whom I draw. The activity of quiet observation, combined with intense concentration to translating perceived forms into shapes on paper seems to dissolve the judgments we so readily apply to our physique and to others’.

Both posing, and drawing the human form can bring us all to a realization of humility when we are faced with the intimacy another person’s unclothed vulnerability. Suddenly we are no longer wondering who that person is and why they are the way they are; when we see them completely free of roles and costumes we come to realize we are finally seeing the whole person, complete with their stretch marks and other attributes, regardless of their accomplishments and their challenges. And we learn to see the beauty of the incredible machine that is the human body; in every human body. In learning to see the beauty, we begin to feel compassion for each other and for ourselves, which for me, is the best wonderful path to feeling truly alive.