Читать книгу Meditation on Both Sides of the Camera - Valerie K. Isenhower - Страница 8

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Centering

The seagull landed on a rock two feet from where I had been sitting for thirty minutes. It paid no attention to me. Instead, it turned to look out across the ocean, almost as if to say, “What are you looking at?” Even though I had cast my eyes out over the water, my focus was inward. What was wrong? I had been taking photographs most of the day, and I knew they all lacked depth. The spirituality in each one was as flat as the paper I would print the pictures on.

We sat there in silence—a photographer searching and a seagull providing a quiet presence. Why had this bird decided to join me? After a time, I realized my spirit was quieter than it had been when I left home and even when I had first sat down on the rocks. I must have quieted my soul more than I knew, or the seagull wouldn’t have landed and stayed next to me. The seagull, who looked old and wise, reminded me of an essential component of my work: I had started my photo trip without centering, without inviting God to join me, and without asking what God wanted me to photograph. When I finally stopped and let go of my own agenda, I could feel a presence beyond me. God was now part of the photo outing. The seagull reminded me of the value of centering.

Beginning the journey of photography without centering and meditative preparation resembles rushing into prayer. Not stopping after we record a scene leaves the photos “without breath.” The spiritual journey of photography from beginning to end is like breathing life into the stories of our photographs and our souls.

Preparation

Physical preparation often takes priority before we go out on a photography adventure of any kind, including family or group gatherings. Our questions focus on equipment and supplies such as these: Are the batteries charged? Do I have space on my memory card? Do I have film? Do I need to clean my camera? Do I have/need a flash or tripod? Do I have maps or GPS, water, lunch, hat, etc.? The questions and preparation become second nature. We gather all the equipment and walk out the door prepared for a day of photography. However, are we really ready?

The questions above crowd our brains as we prepare. How often do we take the time to ask, “Am I ready spiritually? My mind is ready; my body is ready; my equipment is ready, but how is it with my soul?” Do we walk out the door without checking the place within us—the place where the soul of our creativity lives?

Richard Rohr comments that humans tend to be a circumference people, living on the boundaries rather than in the center.³ Our lives focus on the daily stuff that bombards us. We look for meaning in the small things. We seek identity from other people and our belongings. We move toward what is in front of us. We photograph the surface of our subjects. The results are flat just like mine were before the seagull joined me.

Life on the outer edges arises from busy, active, and noisy days. Our lives are filled with people and events that clamor for our attention. Moving toward the center breaks the hold the noise has on our being. Centering allows us to hear the still small voice of God (1 Kings 19:12) and to see with clarity.

The technical aspects of photography acknowledge the importance of noise reduction to avoid photos with a grainy appearance (for more information on image noise visit www.cambridgeincolour.com/tutorials/image-noise.htm). In addition, some photographs look overly busy when we include too much subject matter in the frame. The busyness and noise distract the eye from seeing the true subject matter with clarity. We experience the same problem in our lives. The noise of living on the circumference distracts us from seeing what is real.

Spiritual practice moves us from the outer edges of our lives. The practices teach us how to move into the center where we come into relationship with God—the ground and source of our being. Living in the center leads us to a quieter, more focused life. The center provides awareness and mystery that allows us to see more deeply. The spiritual practice of centering enhances our ability to see the world in new ways. Our photographs become more meaningful when we write them from our centers rather than the circumference.

However, centering is as difficult as finding an elusive presence. We cannot grab hold of it, nor can we “achieve” it. Change happened that day in Monterey Bay when I finally opened my heart and caught a glimpse of the power centering can bring into photography. A spiritual block shifted, and my eyes were opened. The process of centering moves us into a space where seagulls join us and we dare to open our souls to see into the interior of our being and the Divine mystery and presence. The core of our being, the place where we meet God, anchors our photography.

Centering before and during a trip can take many forms. I find the following exercise useful:

Find a comfortable position in a chair or on the floor. Begin by breathing deeply (breathe in to the count of five and breathe out to the count of seven). Each time you inhale, breathe in the creativity of the Holy Spirit and/or the wonder of God’s love and creation. Each time you exhale, let go of all the work you have to do when you get home, worries about what pictures you will record, concerns over weather and lighting; any preconceived notions of what you will return with and any thoughts that say you are not an artist or a creative being.

Continue breathing deeply. Turn the day over to God. Ask for openness and a heightened sense of God’s presence through the photography journey. Imagine the creativity of the Spirit walking the path ahead of you. Sit in silence for a while (gradually increase the time of silence, aiming for twenty minutes). When thoughts of the day creep back into your mind, gently let them go and then return to a place of open communion with God. After a time of silence, write any thoughts in a journal, take another deep breath, and then head out on your adventure.

Centering shifts our focus from the technical process to the spiritual process. This shift releases energy that allows us to center on God first. Praying our way into a trip serves as a reminder for our mind and soul. The day we are preparing to enter highlights time spent with God rather than finding pictures we can sell or share. Letting go of the product in order to experience the process truly helps us see and hear the Creator.

Letting Go

Madeleine L’Engle offers a visual image of letting go:

I was running, tripped, and fell through a window. I picked myself up in a shower of glass, and did not have a scratch on me because I did not have time to draw back. If I had, I would have been cut, and badly.⁴

We can move our photography into a space of “falling through” where we “return to the imaginative courage of the child.”⁵ Taking time to center before a photography foray reduces the noise. We remove the words and focus inward in order to photograph the world outside.

A workshop on creativity embedded into my soul the concept of “falling through.” I attended the workshop because I came home from each trip frustrated with my photography. Why was I struggling? All the joy and fun of photography had disappeared. The spiritual practice of photography felt dry and lifeless. I centered before each trip; yet, my soul experienced a loss. An element was missing. The emptiness of photography led to my excitement about the workshop.

The workshop leader asked us to think about creativity and what we require to be creative. While the other participants sat busily writing, I sat there with a blank canvas of paper and no clue how to answer her question. The thoughts rolling through my mind went something like this: Obviously, I am not creative, and I never was. I am not a photographer, and I never was. Who am I kidding? What am I doing here anyway? You get the picture and have probably experienced the same emotions yourself. Needless to say I felt frustrated.

Finally, through the grace of God, I reached a point of letting go of all those questions. I flipped the questions over and asked, When was the last time I truly felt the creativity of the Spirit and God’s presence in my photography? Why was it different? What was going on in my life at that time?

In my mind I rummaged through the files of past photo trips. A photo day in Albuquerque Old Town floated to the top. That excursion was fun! I distinctly remember being very aware of God’s presence and guidance. Time flew by as I let the day be my prayer. Why was this trip different? A light began to shine on my struggle as I examined the trip. The adventure came the day after a long business trip in which I led several workshops. My plate was empty, and my mind was clear when I left for Old Town. My immediate “to-do” list was blank.

Realization of what had happened hit me: I am a list maker. All of my recent photo outings were clouded over with lists. Now as I sat in the circle with the leader and the other participants, the words to the following prayer spilled out onto the paper:

The more I live with tasks and lists

and

lists of tasks

the harder it is to feel the flow.

The lists weigh me down so I don’t fly in the wind.

Without the wind

—the breath of God—

the creativity stays on the ground, anchored in the lists.

Let go of the lists;

live into the moment.

Let the flow happen.

Let God guide my feet.

Let God read and focus the camera.

Let the moment be without the mind to lead. Amen.

The tasks, agendas, and worries we carry into the field pull us back to the circumference. They weigh us down, as if we are toting another very heavy equipment bag. We release a huge weight from our souls when we hand the bag to God for safekeeping while we are gone. The bag will be there when we return and, who knows, perhaps some of the worries will have sorted themselves out.

If you find yourself carrying a heavy bag of worries and to-do lists, try the following exercise that some have found helpful:

Imagine a bag of some type—a backpack, extra camera bag, or even a trash bag. Open the bag, and begin placing into it all the tasks that must be done when you get home. Add your worries, both personal and those for the day—like weather, lighting, etc. Include any thoughts that stand in the way of hearing God such as, I do not know why I’m even trying; I’m not a photographer. Sit in silence for a few moments to see if you need to add anything else. When everything you can think of is in the bag, close it and put it somewhere safe for God to watch over while you are gone. Ask God to remind you to put your worries back into God’s keeping if you start unpacking the bag before returning home. Walk out the door with a lighter load.

The exercise does not guarantee we will leave our lists of tasks at home when we head out with our cameras. However, it points us in the right direction. We begin our day with a lighter load, which leads to pictures with life breathed into them. Sometimes, though, we have to stop and add more concerns to the bag. Or we find that we have quietly pulled worries and lists out of the bag. If this happens, give yourself grace, place the items back in the bag, and pick up your camera again.

From the Beginning

I went on a day trip to Ruidoso, New Mexico, with two friends, one of whom was visiting from out-of-state. We stopped at a store near the Mescalero Apache Reservation. Our out-of-state friend wanted to look at local Native American art. She purchased a small Apache burden basket.

The Apaches used burden baskets like the one shown above (made by Linda Couzman) to gather wild foods or crops. Larger baskets were sometimes used for food storage. Today burden baskets are used in traditional girls’ puberty ceremonies. The baskets are made by weaving together natural materials from the countryside such as willow, yucca root, and devil’s claw. Different colored plants are used to make designs. The baskets vary in size but are cone-shaped with buckskin carrying straps.⁶

An artist’s biography accompanied the basket my friend purchased. The bio stated that the artist went to the nearby “holy mountain” to collect grass to make her baskets. I read the information and imagined the prayers of preparation for gathering the grasses and roots of the different colors and textures needed to make the basket.

I wondered: how much prayer do I put into my photo trip preparation? The story of the seagull taught me to spend time centering in order to be present to God and my photography. However, the native artist taught me another step in the process: the spiritual practice of photography includes every piece of getting ready.

Meditation behind the camera includes physical and mental preparation. We invite God into the process from the beginning. We bring all we have—ourselves, our equipment, our supplies—and place them at God’s feet and request a blessing for the journey. The Hebrew people did this as they met God at Mount Sinai (Exodus 19:9b-11). God instructed them to consecrate themselves and wash their clothes before God descended upon the mountain. Preparation for a holy event was important.

The task of getting ready becomes a holy event itself as we slow down the process and move with intention through each step. Cleaning the camera gives us an opportunity to ask God to clean our “heart’s eye” so we may truly see. Packing the equipment allows us to give thanks for the gift of the camera, lenses, and filters. Lunch preparation or filling our water bottle becomes an opportunity to ask for spiritual nourishment during the journey.

Preparation for the journey helps open our eyes to the story we will find. Whatever pictures beckon to us become the colors and textures for the story we weave, just like the grasses and roots used in the burden baskets.

Journaling

Meditation behind the camera calls for two types of journaling. We write our thoughts, questions, and concerns in a paper or computer journal before and after trips. The images, themselves are also a form of journaling. Mark Edward Harris says, “I think of my frame as a canvas.”⁷ I paraphrase his statement and say, “I think of the frame as my journal.” We are storytellers. As photographers, we write the story through our photographs. We see a vision before our eyes and record it on disk or film. We are touched by what we see or moved by what is going on inside our heart, so we tell the story through photographs. We continue to write the story at the computer if we edit the rough draft by changing colors, adjusting lighting, or cutting and pasting pictures together. All of these activities are part of the photo-writing process.

However, the writing begins long before we pick up the camera. A dedicated photography journal is a good tool for planning when we record thoughts, questions, and reflections. Journaling before picking up the camera is like gathering the grasses for a burden basket. The act of journaling gives us a chance to examine the various pieces that make up our day. What will give the outing color and texture?

Think of the written journal as the place to begin tapping into your spirit to discover the pictures God is calling you to write and the journey you are about to begin. The journal content varies from entry to entry. What is going on in your heart, soul, and mind? What is the state of your emotions: are you struggling, excited, or thankful? What do you hope to see tomorrow, and will you allow God to lead you? Questions such as these encourage us to begin seeing and feeling the textures and colors of the journey.

Try the following exercise:

Find a book to use as a written photography journal, or create a journal folder on your computer. The night before a planned trip spend time writing in the journal. Breathe deeply and center yourself. Think about the upcoming trip and your emotional and spiritual feelings. Use the following questions as a starting place for reflection:

• Where is God leading me tomorrow? What do I hope to see?

• How am I feeling emotionally? Am I thankful for anything in particular, excited, anxious, worried?

• What is blocking my ability to pay attention to the movement of the Spirit? How can I let it go?

• What else is on my mind at this time?

These reflections will inform your journey the next day. End in silence, asking the Spirit to be with you as you go.

Journaling is another form of breathing and letting go. The process of writing out the words opens other avenues for sensing God’s leading and God’s speaking. Journaling gives us a tool to get our thoughts out of the way in order to give space for the deeper story of the people, the landscape, and allowing our hearts to come forth.

Thus, the whole process of centering calls for silence, space, attention to texture, and breathing. Journaling through photographs and with words opens us to the awareness of God’s participation. Madeleine L’Engle recounts the words of a Hawaiian Christian, Mother Alice Kaholusuna, who challenges us to center our lives:

Before the missionaries came, my people used to sit outside their temples for a long time meditating and preparing themselves before entering. Then they would virtually creep to the altar to offer their petition and afterwards would again sit a long time outside, this time to “breathe life” into their prayers. The Christians, when they came, just got up, uttered a few sentences, said Amen, and were done. For that reason my people called them haoles, “without breath,” or those who failed to breathe life into their prayers.⁸

Centering is a way to enter our photography carefully with the breath of God leading us. Meditation and preparation open the pathways to join the Spirit as we breathe life into the stories of our photographs and our souls.

Reflection

Our spiritual lives inform our photography, and our photography informs our spiritual lives. The temptation is to come home from our outing and stop the process when we complete the after-trip tasks: upload pictures, process them, share the pictures with others, and study what we could have done differently. These activities are essential tasks, but they are not the end of meditation behind the camera. Reflection on the trip forms another part of the journey.

Record your thoughts in your photography journal after each trip. Reflect on questions such as these:

• What did this outing teach me about my own spiritual journey?

• What did I learn about my relationship with God?

• How did I learn to open the eyes of my heart in new ways?

Each chapter in this book includes questions to guide your reflections based on the chapter focus. Thinking over the day aids in our discovery of how photography deepens our spiritual journeys. In turn, the growth in our spiritual lives affects our photography. The process becomes a circle of spiritual growth.

We live in a world that encourages us to rush from one thing to the next. We barely finish one activity before starting another one, or we try to perfect the art of multitasking. We relegate our spiritual lives to morning or evening prayers and “sound-bite” prayers as we drive in the car. This chapter considers taking time to prepare and center to avoid the “hurry” in photography. How can this insight inform our relationship with God and the way we live? When we learn to slow down and prepare our hearts, minds, and souls before leaving the house on a photography journey, we develop patterns we can use in the rest of our lives.

After practicing the concepts in this chapter you may wish to reflect on the following questions:

• How can I practice centering at the beginning and throughout the day to help me feel God’s presence?

• What practices can I use to prevent living my day in a spirit of preoccupation rather than receptivity?

• How can I prepare the tools for the various tasks of the day in order to invite the holiness of God into the ordinary places of life?

• What tools can I use to remind me to slow down and not rush into each new activity, so like my photographs, each activity becomes an opportunity for walking with the Spirit?

The experience of breathing life into our photographs gives us new ways to live each day in openness to the Spirit.

Ideas for Focusing Your Photography

• What did I have a hard time letting go of while centering? How can I photograph this thought?

• What is going on in my life that I can express through my photographs?

• Gather your photographic equipment and a candle or other meditative tool. Include your second camera if you have one. Arrange them on a table in a creative way. Photograph the arrangement. Put the photograph in a place you will see as a reminder that preparation is part of the spiritual practice of photography.