Reaching into Reality

Tree Light

There are moments in our lives … when we seem to see beyond the usual – become clairvoyant.  We reach then into reality.  Such are the moments of our greatest happiness.  Such are the moments of our greatest wisdom.  …

At such times there is a song going on within us, a song to which we listen.  It fills us with surprise.  It fills us with purpose.  We marvel at it.  …  These moments are the pinnacles of our experience, and it is the desire to express these intimate sensations, this song from within, which motivates the masters of all art.

~~ Robert Henri, The Art Spirit

 

Anza-Borrego Desert

Cherish Your Own Emotions

fonts-point-iv

“Fonts Point IV” at Anza Borrego Desert, California

“You have to make up your mind to be alone in many ways. We like sympathy and we like to be in company. It is easier than going it alone. But alone one gets acquainted with himself, grows up and on, not stopping with the crowd. It costs to do this. If you succeed somewhat you may have to pay for it as well as enjoy it all your life.

Cherish your own emotions and never undervalue them.

We are not here to do what has already been done.”

— from “The Art Spirit” by Robert Henri

Transcendent Moments of Awe

Isle Au Haut IX

Seascape on Isle Au Haut, Acadia National Park, Maine

“Gratitude bestows reverence, allowing us to encounter everyday epiphanies, those transcendent moments of awe that change forever how we experience life and the world.”

~~ John Milton

With deep gratitude for the many epiphanies I encountered on this trip to Acadia.

 

Seeing Beauty

Seeing Beauty

Seeing Beauty

I see these things with an intense joy,

and while I observe, there is no observer, only a beauty almost like love.

For an instant, I am absent, myself and my problems, my anxieties, my troubles,

nothing but the wonder exists.

— Krishnamurti

This poem is a word-painting of how I felt in the dance of capturing this photograph at sunset on Schoodic Point at Maine’s Acadia National Park.  It had been a long day of driving, hiking, scouting locations.  My daughter Helena and I had been to this spot earlier that day, in harsh, bright light.  Then, the pinks in the granite were hidden by the sun’s sharp glare.  But we got back for sunset.  As the sun was dropping below the horizon, the eastern sky charged up its soft pink glow, blushing these granite rocks, staggering a cracked rugged pathway to heaven before us.

For several minutes as the sun was setting I quickly jumped from spot to spot, setting my tripod, arranging compositions in my camera’s viewfinder.  You’d have thought me a mad scientist or a skittish mountain goat.  But I knew the light was changing quickly, that each minute brought new shapes and colors into presence for my wondrous black box to record for later viewing and digital development.  And in all of this, I was an extension of the camera, or, it was an extension of me? Like a dancer given a wondrous symphony to move to,  I was glad I had practiced my steps.  I moved from composition to composition, arranging the shapes and lens zoom, adjusting focus and exposure by feel.  My fingers had learned where to poke and push, and my ears had learned to listen for the peeps and pops,  confirming the camera’s syncopation with my artistic vision.

For that instant, my worries and troubles drop away, replaced by the joy and love before me.   My gratitude is unspeakable.  My self dissolves at the wonder.