A Contemplative Calendar...

   This summer I read a novel set during the French Revolution of the late 18th century and discovered the French Republican calendar.  In an attempt to remove all references to religion and monarchy, they created at calendar with months named after seasonal activities or weather.  It only lasted 12 years before they returned to the old way of counting days but this gave me the idea of a contemplative calendar based on one's own personal appreciation of the seasons.

   I would rename June to the Month of Soft Wings, for instance.  That would acknowledge the dragonflies, moths, butterflies and other welcomed winged insects that make an appearance during June. (I'll try to ignore the mosquitoes and the black flies!)

   Celebrating each month in a personal way seems an intriguing thought to me.  In many ways, that is what I am doing, day by day, with my photo journal, Memories4Me.  Naming the month would be like trying to find one thing that stands out most for me...my icon of the month so to speak!  Yes, Soft Wings is perfect for June!  What would you re-name each month?  What would be your "icon" for each?

The French Republican Calendar

Reflections on the Tao - The Still Point

When there is no more separation between 'this' and 'that,' it is called the still-point of the Tao. At the still point in the center of the circle one can see the infinite in all things.   ~ Chuang Tzu

   In my last post, I talked about centering yourself in Nature. I thought this quotation from Chuang Tzu was a perfect follow up.

   This concept, of finding the still point, is at the core of Taoist teaching.  As I understand the idea, it is striving to not differentiate.

    It is not 'me' or 'you', it is simply 'us'.  It is not 'photographer' and 'photographed', it is a single relationship. Ultimately, it is the ability to live with the both/and instead of the either/or, as Fr. Richard Rohr says.

   I will admit, it is not an easy concept to wrap your mind around.  It is the ultimate non-dualist mindset...one I strive daily to aspire to and, if I am totally honest, seldom achieve.  Yet, somehow, I feel that it is the center of what it means to be a contemplative photographer...finding that still point and making your images from that viewpoint.

   This quote by Carl Jung talks about how the achieving of the still point places one inside the whole of Nature.  From that still point, we can perceive the eternal of all things.  Now that is a goal, in my opinion, that is worth striving for.

"At times I feel as if I am spread out over the landscape and inside things, and am myself living in every tree, in the splashing of the waves, in the clouds and the animals that come and go, in the procession of the seasons."

~ C. G. Jung, Memories, Dreams, Reflections, Ch. 8

   

Centering Yourself in Nature...

   I am find such joy in walking the shores of the little pond down the road from my house.  I pass it every day and I will often stop to just stand and look...most of the time, without my camera.  It is a way for me to center myself.

   When I taught pottery classes many years ago, I told the students that the most important part of throwing a pot was the centering.  If the clay wasn't centered on the wheel, the pot would be misshapen.  In fact, a lump of clay that is not properly centered can fly off the wheel...not a good thing as you can imagine! 

   Finding a place that centers your soul is important too.  One can then create the beautiful empty vessel in your heart that can be filled with your experience of the landscape.  For me now, it is the pond where I can best center myself.

   Fr.Richard Rohr, the founder of the Center for Action and Contemplation in New Mexico, wrote a beautiful exercise for creating sacred space as you walk and I include it here.  I especially like the idea of creating a threshold at the beginning of your walk, no surprise after my recent pilgrimage, and the injunction to leave behind a token, which I always do when I visit especially meaningful places.  You can read a past post on tokens here.

 Wilderness Wandering

Go to a place in nature where you can walk freely and alone, ideally some place where human impact is minimal—a forest, canyon, prairie, bog, mountain. Tell someone where you will be and how long you expect to be there. Take adequate water and clothing for the conditions.

Begin your wandering by finding or creating a conscious threshold (perhaps an arched branch overhead or a narrow passage between rocks). Here offer a voiced prayer of your intention and desire for this time. Step across the threshold quite deliberately and, on this side of your sacred boundary, speak no words, but only expect!

Let the land, plants, and creatures lead your feet and eyes. Let yourself be drawn, rather than walking with a destination or purpose in mind. If you are called to a particular place or thing, stop and be still, letting yourself be known and know, through silent communion with the Other. Before you leave, offer some gesture or token of gratitude for the gift the wild has given you.

When it is time to return to the human world, find again your threshold and cross over. But now you have learned to expect God in all things.

Contemplative Masters Series - Freeman Patterson

   More than any other photographer, Freeman Patterson has taught me the beauty of the abstract image.  He has given me the permission, in a manner of speaking, to really play with my camera, to see it as a paintbrush more than a machine.

   I have to admit that until quite recently, I hadn't been doing much in this line of contemplative image making but a cheeky frog at the pond changed all that.

   The sudden movement of the frog, and the resulting splash which disturbed the water reflection, caused me to move just as I was releasing the shutter.  I nearly deleted it thinking "Oh, that will be a blurry mess!" but instead, I took the time to look at the resulting image.

   What I saw was a symphony of color and swirling shapes and I thought, "Freeman would love this!  Surprisingly, I do too!"

   When I got home, I took out his book, Photography and the Art of Seeing and re-read the part about "thinking sideways".  He invites you to break the rules while photographing, like the one about always holding your camera steady as you make your photograph.

   Contemplative Masters allow us to perceive our world with new eyes.  They give us the tools to experience the world like we never have before.  The pond, the frog, and Freeman Patterson all conspired to awaken me to the abstract possibilities of what I am seeing.  I will always be thankful to all three of them!

"Seldom do we look sideways, that is, search for other premises or new beginnings.  We avoid introducing new factors, technical or emotional, into our photography for fear that we won't be able to control them.  A good way to break the grip of an idea that controls the way you see and photograph is to pretend that it doesn't exist.  You must break the rules."

   Think about one rule that you always apply to your camera work and then forget it exists!  Go out and spend the day breaking the rules.  You might be as pleasantly surprised as I was!

 

Gathering Breadcrumbs at The Center at Westwoods...

   The Center at Westwoods is an amazing place.  My friend and I spent a lovely hour or so walking the grounds recently.  My fist thought was that it would be an ideal location for contemplative photography.  The landscape is thoughtfully and exquisitely laid out with various locations you can visit and enjoy for their peace as well as their contemplative possibilities.

   Sculptures, like this stone spiral dot the landscape and you can feel the energy flowing everywhere you walked.  The following are a series of "breadcrumbs" I gathered during my short visit.  I wish I had had the time to walk the amazing labyrinth.  Or I should say, I wish it hadn't been so hot in the sun!  I will return on a cooler day for that experience.  In the meantime, I can reflect on the breadcrumbs I gathered this day...

   The breadcrumbs I gathered were all very muted, one even black and white, until I got to the Koi pond.  The sunlight was a bit glaring but I was mesmerized by the color!  The sweet little green frog on the yellow lily pad, the blue water etched with the reflection of the metal sculpture beside the pond and the stunning orange and yellow fish all came together in a riot of color.  This is a place I could return to again and again and never run out of inspiration.  Like my pond here in Maine, I have a very similar experience every time I visit.  Do you have a contemplative landscape that fascinates you?  One you can return to over and over again?  Isn't it time you found one!

  

A Thought for Today: Slowing Down...

   You can see it all around, if you live here in the Northern Hemisphere, things are slowing down.  I haven't had to have the lawn mowed in a couple of weeks and you can almost hear the flowers saying, "Ok, enough already!"  This is the reason for the season...the world takes a collective deep sigh and begins to close its eyes.

   But you shouldn't.  This is a wonderful time for the contemplative photographer.  A time to slow down and notice.  To pay attention to the small and easily overlooked things.  The light on a leaf, the crunch under foot, the smell of wild grapes and that particular woodsy smell of the world that epitomizes the autumn for me here in Maine.

   Nature is sending us a very important message as contemplative photographers...SLOW DOWN AND PAY ATTENTION!   It is so easy to overlook the small wonders of the world.

   Yesterday, I sat on the front porch and watched the yellow leaves fall from my maple tree.  I didn't want to photograph it, I just wanted to watch their gentle descent...the way a small breeze would send them swirling.  I tried to keep from my mind the thought that I will have to rake up all those leaves in a couple of weeks...that thought would rip me away from the present moment.  Now it was the time to simply enjoy the dance...

The Poetry of Place - 23 September 2014

  I hadn't been to the pond in two weeks and I couldn't miss the official first day of autumn!  The shore line from my favorite vantage point is really beginning to warm up.  The sky was a lovely cerulean blue.  The pond level is continuing to drop since September has been particularly dry.

   I remain fascinated with the water reflections.  Whereas a month or so ago, it was all yellow and green, now it is as if Nature is spilling cans of magenta paint into the water!  It reminded me of the poured paintings of abstract expressionist painter, Helen Frankenthaler.

   When I posted this image on my daily photojournal, someone commented that it was part photo, part painting, and part tapestry.  I can certainly see this image woven as well as painted.

   The effect was mesmerizing...vividly rendered and perfectly still until a wind blew it away.  Nature wiping clean the canvas.  It shimmered back into focus a few minutes later.

   I've always thought that autumn was a wonderful gift.  Just when it seems the world is dying, it flares up with amazing color and texture.  Perhaps it is giving us a final image of bold color to hold in our heart as we approach the monochrome days of winter.

Calendar of the Soul: The Year Participated 
by Rudolf Steiner, translated by Ruth and Hans Pusch

Twenty Fifth Week - (22 - 28 September)

I can belong now to myself
And shining spread my inner light
Into the dark of space and time.

Toward sleep is urging all creation,
But inmost soul must stay awake
And carry wakefully sun's glowing
Into the winter's icy flowing. 

   A participant in the Star Island retreat suggested this book and I will be using the poems in The Poetry of Place project, along with Thoreau's words and my humble attempts at Haiku. Every visit brings new poetic expression and I find myself falling in love with this place.  I do hope I can venture out in canoe in a couple of weeks to dip my hand into these colors!

   I offer this image as a counter point to those above.  It was made on the easterly shore in a cove that was deep in shadow.  The light was very different and the wind here rippled the water.  The warm color in the upper half must have come from a large maple tree to the left.  The whole effect of this was quite stunning and this photograph doesn't begin to translate the silver shimmer, the whispering quiet I experienced there.

   'There are quiet places also in the mind', he said meditatively. 'But we build bandstands and factories on them. Deliberately — to put a stop to the quietness.'
- Aldous Huxley