Polaris: Finding Your North Star

“Polaris: Finding My North Star”, gouache on paper, 30” x 22”, 2025.

Greetings from the frigid northeast! It’s sometimes hard to remember, on puppy potty-walks in the sub-zero dark of morning, that winter will soon become a distant memory!

It continues to be a challenging time for me for a number of reasons. My health took a nosedive in November, and I’m still feeling awful... and searching for the reason. And then, I’ve had multiple deaths recently: the loss of my dog in September, then my mother, in December, and my cat in January. To be honest, I’ve been struggling to find hope and meaning… I’m still meditating and watching my thoughts, but they are more often in the form of questions.

Why do I have to suffer so much pain and brain/systemic inflammation? Why do some of us suffer more, in general, than others? Why is it so derailing to lose our loved ones, including our pets? How do we move forward when we’re feeling so badly? Where, and how do we find hope? Why are we here on this earth, living this particular version of life? These are really existential questions, to which I don’t pretend to have any answers, but they did inspire my most recent painting, which I called “Polaris: Finding My North Star”.

I’ve spent a lot of late evenings and early mornings observing the night sky recently, due to having to take my puppy Leo out. I don’t know much about astronomy, but I’m often filled with absolute awe on a clear, star-gazing night, and that feeling takes my mind away from my own situation, which provides me with brief relief. Polaris, the north star and the tip of the Little Dipper, usually stands out to me, so I decided to paint the constellation into a painting.

Stars are amazing phenomena, especially when you consider that their light— which feels so real and present— may come from a star that has long been dead. It parallels what I feel about the people and animals I’ve lost: their light, even after they’re gone, still feels bright and palpable. They stay with us: we think about them often and miss them intensely, feeling very real and present emotions about a person who is no longer living. We might feel more aware of them after they die, acutely cognizant of their absence.

I often turn to Buddhism in difficult times, and I also turn to Carl Jung and his writings. This morning, I read the following on a website called This Jungian Life, and it sums up a lot of what I’ve been thinking, only in a much more coherent way. (My brain, which is on fire with inflammation, feels foggy and unfocused.)

“We have looked to the stars to navigate our ships across night-shrouded seas. We have studied the stars to find their qualities in our character and divine our destiny. We have yearned for the stars as the gates of heaven where we hope to reside one day. Mysterious and inscrutable, humanity has ever projected the arcane depths of its collective psyche onto the sky and marveled at what they saw.

​Stars symbolize hope and guidance, appearing in myths, religious traditions, and dreams. They represent a connection to something greater, serving as markers of destiny. Light from stars carries information that transcends time, creating a bridge between the present and the past. Human fascination with stars reflects a universal need for orientation and meaning. Observing stars activates archetypal patterns that inform our inner lives.

The light from stars exists independently, traveling across vast distances even after its source has ceased to exist. This phenomenon highlights the autonomy of light as a distinct entity. Observing starlight invites reflection on the transient nature of existence and the enduring impact of creation. The persistence of light aligns with the principle of continuity amidst change. It reveals the interconnection between all things….

​…Stars often symbolize the Self in Jungian psychology, serving as markers of wholeness and integration. The light of stars offers guidance during times of inner conflict or transition. Dreams featuring stars suggest the potential for renewal and growth. This symbolism integrates the personal and the transpersonal, connecting individual experiences to universal patterns. The star’s light points toward alignment with deeper aspects of the psyche.”

It's so satisfying when I find something written by a (more intelligent) stranger that encapsulates the meaning behind a painting I created. “Polaris: Finding My North Star” is a visual metaphor for that searching for guidance in a time of powerful inner conflict. The bear silhouette at the bottom of the painting is a symbol of self, contemplating Polaris. The mandala image serves as an anchor, a sacred circle, grounding me in its symmetry.

What do I mean by finding my North Star? I think we all search for our own North Star, our sense of purpose. The North Star is the reason you get up every day, not just a goal you’re working toward, but a calling… a reason you were put on this earth. Goals can fall underneath its umbrella, but you don’t achieve it, it’s just there, shining its light on all of your actions, decisions, giving you guardrails within which to operate. I think some people never find it, and others seems to know theirs from childhood. The majority of us find it somewhere in the continuum of our adult lives, and it’s unique for every one of us.

I know mine is my art; creating, through painting and maybe writing too. What form my art takes, and how to stay with it when I’m feeling sick, and sad… those are the scaffoldings of manifestation and dedication that I need to figure out.

I invite you to contemplate this idea, in a quiet moment, when your mind isn’t filled with the daily stress of living. Getting out under the stars is an awesome (literally) way of getting out of your own head and connecting with your true self, and if nothing else, it makes you feel connected to nature… and that’s good for your soul!

With love,

Lise