ShinsungHwa: Visualizing Saint Francis of Assisi’s Spiritual Energy (2019)
What is ShinsungHwa?
ShinsungHwa is a unique form of spiritual art where drawings emerge through spontaneous, flowing movements. Artists tap into their subject’s energy and let Qi(氣) guide their hands, creating geometric patterns that serve as a universal language.
Saint Francis of Assisi’s ShinsungHwa
When I was creating Saint Francis’s ShinsungHwa, something unexpected happened. The ‘path to the spiritual core’ naturally flowed beyond the top edge of my paper, as if it needed more room to breathe. So I added another sheet above—the way you might grab an extra page when a letter grows longer than expected.
This upper space represents the spiritual realm, where height means deeper divine connection. Purple spiritual energy rises from Francis’s head like gentle clouds, swirling upward. It reminded me of steam curling from a morning cup of tea.
The ‘path to the spiritual core’ starts at his head and climbs higher. Midway through the added paper, it opens into a ‘symbol of light‘—like a flower blooming at just the right moment. Beyond that, another pathway reaches even further, crowned by layered infinity symbols at the very top. I couldn’t help wondering: is this his link to that eternal presence from before time began?
The mandorla wrapping around his body, spiritual core, and pathways forms such a striking, distinctive shape. Look closely at Francis’s body and you’ll spot diamond symbols throughout—these mark Christ’s five wounds, the sacred stigmata. What amazed me was seeing these appear as diamonds rather than the wounds we usually picture.
Below his feet, a double ‘spiral energy symbol’ flows downward, carrying his earthly love and devotion into the material world. His spirit seems to keep spreading that same gentle care he showed birds and wolves, the poor and forgotten.
There’s something quietly moving about how spiritual energy flows both ways in his image—reaching toward eternity while staying rooted in the everyday world where real people live their lives.
I’ve been thinking about something Tenzin Palmo wrote about St. Francis of Assisi. She was at a point where nowhere particularly called to her, until a friend happened to mention Assisi. Right away, something clicked. She followed that feeling and headed to Italy.
The moment she stepped into Assisi, she knew she was home. You know that feeling—like running into someone you’ve known forever but haven’t seen in ages. The caves there became her sanctuary. She spent five years living in Assisi, meditating in the same caves where St. Francis once prayed.
Reading her story, I wondered if there might have been some past-life connection. Those moments when you walk somewhere and just know you belong—that’s more than coincidence, isn’t it?
Quote
“All the darkness in the world cannot extinguish the light of a single candle.”
“Start by doing what is necessary, then what is possible, and suddenly you are doing the impossible.”
“For it is in giving that we receive.”
“The deeds you do may be the only sermon some people hear today.”
“A single sunbeam is enough to drive away many shadows.”
“If you have men who will exclude any of God’s creatures from the shelter of compassion and pity, you will have men who will deal likewise with their fellow men.”
“Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; and where there is sadness, joy.”
The Little Poor Man Who Changed Everything: Saint Francis of Assisi
Back in 1181, in the charming hillside town of Assisi, nobody would have guessed that a cloth merchant’s spoiled son would become one of the most beloved figures in Christian history. Yet that’s exactly what happened with Giovanni di Piero Bernardone—better known to the world as Saint Francis of Assisi. His story reads like the ultimate transformation tale, complete with family drama, spiritual awakening, and yes, even talking to birds.
A Rich Kid’s Early Adventures
Francis wasn’t always the gentle saint we picture in garden statues. As a young man, he lived the medieval equivalent of a privileged lifestyle, bankrolled by his father Pietro’s thriving cloth business. Think of him as the town’s party boy—singing French songs (his father was obsessed with French culture), spending money like water, and dreaming of knightly glory.
At nineteen, Francis got his first taste of reality when he joined a battle against the neighboring city of Perugia. Things went badly—he was captured and spent a miserable year in a dungeon before his father paid the ransom. Prison has a way of changing people, and Francis returned home different, though he didn’t quite know what that meant yet.
The Great Break with Dad
After several mystical visions during illness, Francis heard a voice while praying in the crumbling church of San Damiano: “Repair my church, which is falling into ruins.” Taking this literally, he sold his father’s horse and some expensive cloth to fund the repairs. When Pietro discovered this unauthorized business deal, family fireworks erupted.
The showdown reached its dramatic peak in the town square before the Bishop of Assisi. In a moment that would make any teenager cringe, Francis stripped naked in front of the whole crowd, returning even his clothes to his father while declaring he would serve only his “Father in heaven.” The bishop quickly wrapped him in his own cloak—probably as much from embarrassment as compassion.
Building Something New
Francis wandered the countryside as a beggar, rebuilt several churches with his own hands, and gradually attracted followers drawn to his radical lifestyle. By 1209, he had about eleven disciples who shared his commitment to absolute poverty. They called themselves the “Little Brothers” and followed one simple rule: “To follow the teachings of our Lord Jesus Christ and to walk in his footsteps.”
When Francis took his ragtag group to Rome seeking papal approval, Pope Innocent III was initially skeptical. A religious order that owned nothing and lived entirely on charity seemed impractical, even dangerous. But Francis’s obvious devotion won over the pope, and the Franciscan Order was officially born.
The Nature-Loving Mystic
Francis developed what we might today call an environmental consciousness, though he’d have called it brotherly love. He famously preached to birds (and they apparently listened), calmed a troublesome wolf in Gubbio, and wrote the beautiful “Canticle of the Sun,” praising “Brother Sun” and “Sister Moon.” He saw all creation as family, reflecting God’s goodness in ways the medieval world hadn’t quite considered before.
Around 1220, Francis created the first Christmas nativity scene using real animals at Greccio, wanting people to experience the birth of Jesus through their senses rather than just their minds. This innovation became a beloved Christmas tradition that continues today.
The Difficult Questions
Modern scholars have raised some uncomfortable questions about Francis’s approach. Critics point out that by choosing poverty as a wealthy person, he could romanticize what was harsh reality for actual poor people. His focus on personal holiness rather than systemic change has sparked debate—did imitating poverty help real poor people, or just make Francis feel holy?
There’s also the persistent myth that Francis was a vegetarian and animal rights pioneer. Historical records show he actually enjoyed meat, particularly “shrimp pie,” according to his biographers. While he clearly loved animals, projecting modern environmental activism onto a 13th-century mystic can distort his actual message.
That famous quote “Preach the gospel at all times; if necessary, use words” that’s often attributed to Francis? Scholars say he never actually said it. In reality, Francis was known as an enthusiastic preacher who believed strongly in the power of words to spread the gospel.
The Final Years
In 1224, Francis became the first recorded person to receive the stigmata—mysterious wounds matching those of Christ’s crucifixion. Whether miraculous or psychosomatic, these wounds marked him as extraordinary in the eyes of his followers. His health declining and mostly blind, Francis died in 1226 while singing Psalm 141.
Just two years later, he was declared a saint—remarkably fast even by medieval standards. The Catholic Church recognized that something genuinely transformative had happened through this “little poor man” from Assisi.
A Spirit That Endures
Today, the Franciscan Order continues to thrive worldwide, nearly 800 years after Francis’s death. His emphasis on simplicity, care for creation, and service to the poor resonates across religious boundaries. When Cardinal Bergoglio chose the name Francis upon becoming pope, he deliberately invoked this legacy of humility and concern for the marginalized.
Francis’s story reminds us that dramatic life changes are possible, that wealth isn’t everything, and that sometimes the most radical thing you can do is take ancient teachings seriously. Whether you see him as a saint, a social revolutionary, or simply an idealistic young man who changed the world through radical love, Francis of Assisi remains one of history’s most compelling figures—a reminder that even spoiled rich kids can become instruments of profound transformation.
