Immerse Yourself in the Mystery...

Moonrise: a pond painting from 30 December 2014

   An essential part of being a contemplative photographer for me is the ability to embrace the mystery...in the world around me and the world within me as well.  Since my word this year is Immerse, I will try to dive into the mystery more fully and completely.

   So much of the world is mysterious and I could say the same for the human psyche.  In my thinking, the mystic is someone who can throw their arms around this mystery and allow it to filter into their being permitting them to enter into that great realm of unknowing with complete acceptance. 

All saying must be balanced by unsaying, and knowing

 must be humbled by unknowing.   -Richard Rohr. 

   Photography, in general, is not a mystery.  It is a very knowable thing with proper study.  But what we chose to photograph and what we divine from those images, well, that can be a mystery on so many levels.  The resulting photographs can open up the mystery to eyes willing to welcome it.  I've come to more fully embrace mystery with my work at the pond these past six months.  I can "know" the place on one level but there is much about this place I will never know.  Those parts I can only experience and celebrate.  One way I do that is through my pond "paintings".  They allow me to more fully celebrate the mysterious element of this place in a visual and transcendent way.

   The following is a link to a wonderful article written by Christine Valters Paintner about practices you can use to more fully immerse yourself in the mystery...

Embracing Mystery in the New Year

Seeing the Unseen...

       

Everyone sees the unseen in proportion

to the clarity of their hearts.

- Rumi

   I am asked countless times, "How do you see what you see?"  After all, we all have the same eyes, we can stand on the same spot in the landscape and yet, we all see things differently.  I've thought a great deal about this idea, the idea of perspective, because it all comes down to that in the end.

   We are confronted everyday with an overwhelming and, at times, over loaded range of visual imagery.  When you go out with your camera you have literally millions of choices.  Why do some people "see", or choose to frame, certain parts and not others?  Rumi suggests it is a "heart thing".

   I also see it as a "why thing"...why are you making the photograph in the first place?  Is it merely to record a place and time...freezing it for you to savor later on?   Or are your responding to the whispers of the landscape?  Is seeing more a function of hearing?  That is the basis of all my visual listening exercises.

   Perspective is also dependent on circumstance.  What is happening "out there" effects what can go on "in here".  Mood shapes perspective in sometimes alarming ways.  

...what we see is what we are.

-Ernst Haas

   So I suppose we come back to the Rumi quotation I began with.  What I see, my ability to see the unseen, is totally dependent on who I am at that moment in time.  Tomorrow I will see something totally different and that is a wonderful thing.  That's why I can go back day after day to the pond, even stand in the exact same place, and see a whole different reality.  That is the essence of seeing for me, to bring new eyes and an open and receptive heart to the experience each time...

Relax Into the Mystery of Not Knowing...

  Henry David Thoreau inspired me to find my own Walden here at Little Clemons' Pond.  I visited it often, as Henry did Walden, but that is where our commonality ends.  Henry was a brilliant and astute naturalist...a scientist of the first degree.  I am not.

   Henry would probably be able to tell me what made these random holes in the ice.  There were at least a dozen of them randomly peppering the newly frozen surface of the pond.  Henry would have puzzled this out and found the answer...I, on the other hand, enjoy the mystery of not knowing.

   I guess that is one of the things that separates a contemplative photographer from a scientist.  Henry had to know the whys and the wherefores, I don't.  I can sit in wonder on the pond's edge and just breath in the mystery of the place, content with just being present.  I think Henry also appreciated the beauty of mystery in his own way but his inquiring mind always searched for answers and he recorded them diligently in his many journals.

   Before this project at the pond, I was much more an "inquiring mind".  Something here has allowed me to put that aside and settle into pure experience.  There is a time to know and a time to experience without knowing...this was one of those days.

The true mystery of the world is the visible,

 not the invisible.

- Oscar Wilde

Always Expect the Unexpected...

   Waves at the ocean's edge, of course, but the last place I expected to see them was on Little Clemons' Pond!  I am beginning to get use to this sensation...this expecting to see the unexpected...like the amazing clouds from yesterday's post.

   Here at the pond, each day, each hour of each day, in fact, is a totally different and unique experience. If I go expecting to see one thing I invariably see something else.  The pond never fails to surprise and delight me.

   I've always said that it is best to dispense with expectations.  They often inhibit what you are able to see.  But I might alter that to say, have no expectations beyond the unexpected.  Don't be surprise when it appears...embrace it as yet another gift from the landscape.

Nearly all the best things that came to me in life have

 been unexpected, unplanned by me.

Carl Sandburg

Speechless...

   Sometimes it is all about just simply standing in awe.  This cloud formation left me speechless and that is an unusual occurrence for me!

   I was coming back from Portland and something caught my eye and I pulled over.  I am so glad I did.  This amazing cloud formation was so beautiful it took me a couple of minutes to come to my senses and make a photograph of it.

   I am sure there is a meteorological explanation for this type of cloud formation but I don't care a fig about finding out what it is.  I am just so thankful to have been able to witness it.  It is very good for the soul to stand, from time to time, in the presence of such indescribable beauty.  A well developed sense of wonderment is a very good thing indeed.

Never say there is nothing beautiful in the world anymore. There is always something to make you wonder in the shape of a tree, the trembling of a leaf.

Albert Schweitzer 

Dispensing with the Need to Know...

   I posted this image of a little puddle of water that I glimpsed outside by bathroom window on my photojournal recently.  My first reaction was, "How beautiful!". My second reaction was "Why did the ice form in those triangles?".

   A person commented on the photograph by saying that perhaps we should simply attend to the beauty and dispense with the need to know why...he was so right!

   I am a naturally curious person.  I am that little girl who would sit with our set of encyclopedias by the hour just soaking in all the "whys" and "wherefores".   But this gentleman was so spot on in his comment and as a contemplative photographer, I should know that the appreciation of beauty does not require our knowing why it is the way it is.  We can just revel in the thing itself.

Observe the wonders as they occur

around you.  Don't claim them. Feel

the artistry moving through and

be silent.

- Rumi

Just Wondering...

The wonder is that

we can see these trees

and not wonder more.

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

   On my walk up the Jockey Cap Trail this summer I stopped regularly.  An unusual trunk, a fallen tree, a newly sprouted mushroom, they all called to me.  But this group of five trees also made me wonder.

   Five separate trees, all about the same age in a circle with nothing else around them. Had there been a center tree, now gone, from which the five sprouted?  Amazing that they all survived and flourished.

   You can see how Emerson's philosophy came to be Thoreau's inspiration.  Both men walked the woodlands and fields of Concord with a rich sense of wonder.  If I gained nothing else from my reading of both men's writing, this call to walk with constant wonder would suffice.

   In many aspects it is this sense of wonder that is at the core of contemplative photography for me.  A solitary saunter along a woodland path is the height of enjoyment.  I can hear the words of many of my favorite writers as I go along and I thank them for their constant inspiration...

Between every two pines is a

doorway to a new world.

- John Muir

A Related Past Post:

Standing in Wonderment

    

Seen and Received

   I attended the Harvest Festival at the Sabbathday Lake Shaker village this past weekend.  What started out as a dreary cold morning ended in a glorious warm afternoon infused with that lovely light I love so much.

   This is a detail of a book in the gift shop which is a compilation of Shaker drawings. (You can learn about the Shakers here...)  I loved the title, "Seen and Received".  I have often written on this blog that I don't "take" or "make" photographs, I "receive" them.  I felt it very profoundly here in the village and it became the focus of my afternoon's camera work.

   The village was crowded with visitors enjoying the freshly made apple cider and all the activities of the day.  I did as well but I sat for awhile, a bit apart, to just breath in the beauty of the light on the facades of the pristine white buildings.  Receiving images requires quiet and stillness.  It doesn't come in a crowd.

   Because of the large numbers of people, my eyes naturally rose above their heads and I photographed the buildings from that viewpoint..looking up and out.

   The message to me was clear.  Above the happy hub bub of the day there was the serenity and quiet I always seek, wherever I am.  It is always there, even amongst the liveliest crowd.  Sitting quietly for a time allowed me to receive the images that I needed to receive.  It was the act of pausing that allowed me to forge that connection to this unique landscape.

   Seeing is one thing, receiving into your consciousness the meaning and message of the landscape is quite another.  The Shakers believed their drawings were gifts which they made visible through what they called their spirit drawings.  I think of my photographs as gifts as well.  What they did in their drawings I attempt to do through the lens of my camera.

   I will return to the village in early December for their Christmas Festival and to stock up on their wonderful herbal products the sale of which helps support continue restoration and preservation of the village. There are only three Shakers left, Sister Francis, Sister June and Brother Arnold.  They have put the 1800 acres of the village into a permanent land trust so this beautiful and tranquil landscape will endure for generations to come.  It is an endeavor I am happy to support in any way I can for I receive far more here than I give.

Moments of Common Enchantment...

   My frequent trips to the pond continue to reward me with small moments of enchantment...like the blooming of the first waterlily of the season.

   The ruffly edge of the lily pads was also a delight to see.  Somehow, I always thought of them as perfectly flat, round circles of green floating on the water.  Actually, they sometimes are but this day they had a ruffled appearance.  Even the common lily pad is capable of variation.

   I am just beginning to fully appreciate Thoreau's fascination with the intricate detail of a place.  Not the grand vistas but the commonplace elements that make up the landscape.

We wait, starving for moments of high magic to inspire us, but life is full of common enchantments waiting for our alchemist's eyes to notice.

- Jacob Nordby

   What "common enchantments" can you find this weekend in your own backyard?  What may you have overlooked in the past that can now delight you?  Make this a daily practice even if you don't photograph it.

Hidden within the Light...

   Ever since I learned of James Turrell's work with light, I have been fascinated with the metaphoric capacity of sunlight.  As photographers we are, literally, "writers of light." (Photon + grapha = photography) One of my favorite demonstrations in my art room when I was a teacher was to use a prism to break a ray of sunlight into a rainbow.  Children were always amazed that all the colors are "inside" the seemingly white light.

   Every sunny morning when I get up at this time of year, I am greeted by a little rainbow somewhere in the hall outside the bathroom. Finding it is a morning ritual for me.  The beveled glass mirror over the sink serves as a prism creating the stunning light show and sometimes, like this photograph shows, the effect is quite striking.

   Light has always been, across many cultures, the grand metaphor and I am a commensurate light seeker.  I use to joke that I was solar powered...without my daily charge of sunlight my batteries quickly deplete!  All living things reach for the light and I see that as an intrinsic soul searching enterprise.  Somehow we yearn for enlightenment and we are constantly walking that path whether we fully embrace the process or not.  It is built into our genes.

   Every time I see this little rainbow I think about all that is hidden within the light.  The symbols, the metaphors, the color, the life giving warmth.  After this long winter, being touched by the light means even more to me.

   You can see some lovely interpretations of this theme on my Pinterest board.  How does the light touch you?

Let the Light Touch You

Finding the little contemplative gems in daily life...

   Life is full of small contemplative gems.  I suspect we overlook many of them in our daily rush.  We miss out on so much when we fail to recognize these jewels. 

 I think that one of the photographic projects I will stay open to this year is Stillness.  I won't run around looking for it, I will let it find me...like this simple image of a solitary swan. This is a contemplative gem I discovered recently.

   I like just about everything in this image...even the tiny orange marker on the right which seems to punctuate the path of the swan.  The moment of intersection of the horizontal and vertical lines...the passage from reflection into deep darkness; don't get me started!

   The funny thing is though that the first thought that popped into my mind when I looked at the photograph was something my Grandmother use to say about living our lives like the swan...serenely calm on the surface and paddling like crazy below!  That's what photographs can do, if we let them.  They open doors to memories as well as to contemplation.

   I photographed this sublime serenity from a friend's porch. (One of the few times I would have liked a more powerful lens!)  She said this was the first time she had seen the swan this year and I thought to myself, what a gift.  Moments like this, when the Universe presents us with tiny, exquisite moments to stand in awe before are truly the very best gifts because they are so unexpected and seemingly random.  They aren't of course.  We are simply standing too close to see the pattern.  We are presented with these gems on a daily basis, we just have to open our eyes to them.

Look around yourself right now...find a little gem!
(Let me know what you find by posting a comment.)

   As I said, you don't have to go looking for them, these moments of wonderment, they will come to you.   There is one right nearby you, right now.  I saw a tiny rainbow on the floor this morning...sunlight reflected off a beveled mirror had created it.  Had I gotten up a half hour earlier or later it wouldn't have been there.  I made sure I took a moment to acknowledge it...it made me smile to see it.  Such a wonderful way to start the day.

   The trick is to keep that third eye open to them so you will be able see them when they do appear. That takes a kind of inner stillness and a deep desire for the encounter.  Practicing this kind of awareness day to day in your own home makes the chance of seeing them in the landscape all the more likely.

Returning to the Well...

    Wells are wonderful metaphors.  The idea of casting your bucket into a deep abyss and bringing up, with some effort, life giving water can easily be applied to those of us who seek refreshment for their spirits through their practice of  photography.

   Nature is an infinitely deep well of inspiration for the contemplative photographer.  Everyday, every moment in fact, offers a new and surprising revelation for hearts that are open and eyes that are clearly focused on what is before them.

   You might also discover special and individual wells within the landscape that you can return to time and time again to quench your soul's thirst.  The crab apple tree a few feet behind my house is one of my personal wells as you no doubt have come to realize this winter.

   One of the vows monks take when they enter the monastery is one of stability...staying put in one place.  Now, with my wanderlust that is one vow I would have a great deal of difficulty with at this stage in my life but Winter offers this "monk in the world" a taste of that stability.  I stay put, hunker down, and feel immense contentment with the near at hand...like my crab apple tree.

   This particular morning it's branches were etched with a silver light that, frankly, took my breath away.  It only lasted a few minutes.  I was fortunate to have seen it at all.  The sun at this time for year melts things quickly but I'm in the habit of checking out the tree several times a day.  For a few minutes I was able to take in the beauty and wonder of this sight.  Tomorrow, even this afternoon, the tree will present a whole different message...a new source of inspiration.  I don't think I will ever tire of returning to this well so, in my own way, I practice the monastic devotion to stability at least for the winter months.  Do you have a special well of inspiration?

  

A Tale of Two Icicles...

   This is another little breadcrumb* I picked up at my house recently.  It definitely fits into the category of Wu Wei, photographing what comes my way on its own...no effort on my part...I just had to "pay attention".   I discovered these two icicles hanging on my front porch and I honestly was fascinated by them.

   The icicle on the right is your standard, run-of-the-mill variety but the one on the left...well, I'm speechless!  Not only did it form an organic, free flowing shape, it struck out horizontally in both directions.  (It reminded me a bit of the map of Italy!)  It even managed to form a small hole.

    The free-form icicle also looks stunning, and very different, from the other side...almost like a strange bird in flight. (Remember my recent post on the need to change perspective from time to time?)  Both icicles formed at the same time but in such totally different ways it is a bit hard to comprehend.  Same weather conditions, same slowly dripping water from the same roof but such radically different results!

   I've lived in Maine for 18 years and I can't remember ever seeing such an amazing icicle formation.  Perhaps I just wasn't paying so much attention to them as I have been this winter.   It makes me wonder what other amazing things I've missed by not paying attention the ordinary and commonplace! 

   It didn't take me long to step into a metaphorical reading, a PhotoLectio, of my two icicles.   People can be like these two icicles I decided.  Give two people the same conditions, the same starting point and some will take the tried and true path...the safe and easily predictable path while the other will opt for the beauty of the untried and unproven...they will risk possible failure to sail in uncharted waters.

   While it is so much easier to be safe and predictable, to do what the world expects you to do, it is so much more fun to be the risk-taker and explorer...not only thinking "outside the box" but dispensing with the box altogether.  Which kind of icicle are you?

* For readers new to this blog "breadcrumbs" are little contemplative tidbits one finds along the way. Gathering breadcrumbs is a form of walking meditation and is an intuitive and spontaneous process that is fun to do wherever you are with your camera.

  

A Matter of Perspective...

   Being confined to my house because of repetitive storms, ice and general nasty weather, I've been thinking about perspective.  If I could never leave this house, and the world was limited to what I could see out my windows, what would that do to my viewpoint?

   I was watching my cat lying on the ottoman at my feet.  His world is like my temporary condition, contained within these walls most of the time.  Then he did what cats do a lot, he hung his head over the edge of the ottoman and looked at me...up side down!

   Does he do that just for the fun of seeing me hanging from the ceiling or is it some subtle way he has to experience the world in a different way? (Best not try to over-think this!)

   Later, when I was in the breakfast room, I looked out the window and there was the concept illustrated in miniature.

   The tiny glass ornament a friend had given me for Christmas inverted my view of the woods across the street. It was a delightful little "breadcrumb" to pick up with my camera and think about.

   The message was clear...every once in awhile turn the world on its ear!  Shift perspective, figuratively or literally.  Another friend had sent me a quotation on New Years day and it is very appropriate to this post and the new year so I will close with it...

For last year's words belong to last year's language
And next year's words await another voice.

-T. S. Eliot, Four Quartets

Winter Etching - 2014

   I didn't have to wait long for my winter etching for 2014 to manifest itself.  With temperatures hovering at -10 degrees most mornings, the first two weeks of January offered some stunning examples but not where I usually look for them.

   I usually photograph shadows on the snow for my winter etching series.  At least until now.  All last year I tried to see old and familiar things "anew" so why not re-think and re-experience the idea of "etchings"?

   I was tucking the car into the barn in advance of yet another snow storm and I took the time to stand in awe at the beautiful displays etched onto the window glass in the frigid barn.

   A macro lens would have rendered more detail but I love the fern-like appearance of the frost.  What grows green and lush by my house in the warm days of summer now exists in crystal white miniature in the depth of winters cold.  They seemed to me to be the ghosts of ferns past.

   Who knows...perhaps all summer days exist within the winter ones...just a step beyond our conscious awareness.  Looking at these little frost ferns made me think that in some metaphysical way that might be true.

   Good to know this hibernating contemplative photographer doesn't have to travel very far in this bitter cold to experience a sense of wonderment!  The link below may give you some ideas for embracing the winter...Carpe Frigidium! (Just made that up!)

Standing in Wonderment...

   I think that if I could give one gift to all of you this holiday season it would be the gift of wonderment.  Richard Rohr defines it this way.  To practice wonderment means:

• standing in disbelief
• standing in the question itself
• standing in awe before something

   Cultivating a sense of wonderment will take your photographic experience out of the ordinary into a relationship with the world around you that will change you in profound ways.

   We take so much for granted, so many tiny miracles happen everyday and we blithely go about our business completely unawares.  The camera, when held with wonderment, opens us to the magic of discovery.

   So take time during this incredible busy time of year to just sit in wonderment.  Perhaps it will be during a soft snowfall or in a moonlit landscape or just on a walk around the block.  Stop, stare and above all wonder....

    (To read the rest of Richard Rohr's post on wonderment, click here...)