As I mentioned in my previous post about Celestial Navigation, I return again and again to the idea of vessels—not just as containers, but as carriers of memory, meaning, and mystery. Recently, I’ve been exploring the specific vessel symbol of the Lifeboat (thanks, Bosha), both as a new Enso Oracle Card (more about that soon) and as the inspiration for a workshop in which we create sculptural boats layered with mulberry paper, wax, and intention.

The Enso Circle Oracle Cards project is still in its “sandbox” stage, but coming up with symbols for the cards helps me with the ups and downs of the artistic life just as the Enso Circle has helped Artists-in-Residence since 2021 when Michelle Belto and I founded it.

The Enso Lifeboat card emerged as a quiet call to consider what we carry with us in times of change. It’s not about emergency escape—it’s about soulful preservation. What are the objects that keep us afloat emotionally? What fragments, what symbols, what small, beloved items would we gather into our own lifeboats if we had to set out across uncertain waters?

Here’s what the Lifeboat card look like in its current form:

And this is what you would read in the guidebook if you were to draw this card:

The Lifeboat

Keywords: preservation, essence, protection, emotional memory, inner refuge

When the Lifeboat card appears, it asks: What do you carry when all else must be left behind? This vessel holds not the things of utility, but of meaning—symbols, fragments, and reminders of what anchors you to self, spirit, and memory. In the upright position, it represents the quiet courage to choose what matters most and to cradle it with reverence. You are called to preserve your essence—not in grand gestures, but in the small, soul-bound keepsakes of your journey. The Lifeboat is sanctuary and simplicity. It’s a gentle reassurance that even in tides of uncertainty, you have the means to carry what’s essential.

In the reversed position, this card may signal overwhelm or disconnection—perhaps you’re holding too tightly to the wrong things, or drifting without recognizing what truly sustains you. It invites you to reexamine your cargo. Are you carrying weight that no longer serves? Can you release the nonessential to make space for the sacred?

Reflection Questions:

• What emotional “items” do I instinctively protect?
• What anchors me in moments of change?
• Am I honoring what is truly meaningful, or clinging to what is familiar?

Affirmation:
I honor what matters most and carry it with care. In simplicity, I find sanctuary.

______________

Going Forward and Connecting

In the Spirit Vessels and Memory Boats workshop that I’m filming now in my little studio, we bring this metaphor into our hands. We begin by building the structure of the boat—humble materials like reed, cardboard, twine, and paper come together to form a frame. It’s not unlike the invisible scaffolding of our inner resilience.

As we wrap and shape and fuse layers of mulberry paper and encaustic wax, the vessel begins to take on a skin—fragile in appearance, but surprisingly strong, like the human heart.

At this stage, the question becomes more personal: What will you place inside? These boats are not meant to carry passengers or provisions in the literal sense, but fragments of memory, tokens of identity, and quiet reminders of what keeps us afloat. Some artists tuck in words on torn paper, a small stone, a scrap of fabric, a whisper of something lost or longed for.

Each lifeboat becomes a kind of reliquary—part sculpture, part story, entirely sacred. No two are alike. And none need explain themselves. Their power comes from the act of choosing, of honoring, of making space for what matters.

This is where I am right now – choosing what to include. The inside is lined with a special calligraphy paper and the edges are adorned and wired with special rocks and rusty rings and clay symbols. Do I want to include things that will stay permanently or keep them interchangeable? What anchors me in moments of change? These questions are as much a part of the process as the application of walnut ink and wax.

This workshop is still in development, but even now as I build prototypes and test materials, I can feel the quiet potency of the process. Just like the oracle card, the vessel invites reflection: What are you saving? And why?

More soon, as the vessel takes shape.

Safe voyages! Tend to your lifeboats!

♥Lyn