Photography and our inner life
The sun glistened on the water as we came over the hill into St. Martins, N.B.
We found the Country Inn where we were to stay until the next Sunday. We were joining a group of eight people, from Zimbabwe to Edson, Alta., and points between, who were involving themselves in an Inscape Workshop.
For the past few years Freeman Patterson, a world renowned photographer and author, and David Macginley, Chaplain at the Cancer Ward in QE2 hospital, author, and cancer survivor, have conducted workshops focusing on photography as an art that re ects and deepens our lives. Neither Emily nor I know an aperture opening from a depth-of-field. However, Freeman, a friend of long standing, invited us to share in the leadership. So, 14of us gathered for the week’s adventure.
And adventure it was. David led a meditation time at 7 a. m. with breakfast at 7:15 a.m. – an uncivilized hour for old retired folk. At 8 a.m. there were presentations by either Freeman or David followed by discussions and a long break until 3 p.m.; for photographers this was picture taking time. Non-photographers like us had time to rest, walk, and explore the magni cent scenery, and sometimes talk with the tripod-camera-toting folk trying, and often succeeding, to take the perfect shot. en there was another presentation and conversation until about 5 p.m. With dinner at 6:30 p.m. we had more time. At 8 p.m. there was a lm or another program and another meditation time at 9 p.m. After that there were stars to be photographed.
Freeman and David shared their life stories. Freeman, having survived two liver transplants (doctors reported that he had won the lottery ve days in a row) and David, a four-time cancer survivor, both related their near-death experiences. eir accounts were very moving, and very encouraging for the several who were dealing with cancer.
Wednesday was our day. The theme was consciousness. We told of our life-changing moments. Emily encountered the Universe Story at an event at Tatamagouche Centre in 1995. is is the new allencompassing story that is larger than any religion or culture. It includes the Universe and all humanity, whatever our stripe. Emily has been an avid advocate ever since.
I told of my conversion in 1962. It was the second Sunday in Advent and I had just preached what I thought was a good sermon on “ e God behind the Child.” In my youthful arrogance I was walking down the aisle following the service thinking, “That should convince them.” en in a sudden revelation it came to me that the person who doesn’t believe, is me. e old had died for me and my life has been an exploration of what is true for this age.
After singing Emily’s Holy of Holies, I explored the Revelation myth of the Cosmic Woman, the creative power of the Universe. In the pangs of child birth she was, and is, birthing forth a mature humanity. Revelation is a mythic extravaganza expressing how dificult that process is. The problem is a big and powerful red dragon ready to destroy the edgling child. The world, and our lives, are full of red dragons, that which denies and destroys our humanity.
In the afternoon I explored the Garden of Eden myth. Eve, at the instigation of the serpent, ate the forbidden fruit, the symbol of consciousness. Consciousness is the great gift and burden of humanity. It comes at a price. e story records how Adam and Eve became separated within themselves, from their spiritual awareness, from one another, and from the earth. e Bible, all of history, and our indi- vidual lives is the account of one tradition’s struggle to heal the divisions and become mature human beings.
In the evening Emily led us through the Cosmic Walk. In the local town hall, we set up the spiral representing the evolution of the Universe from the Big Bang 13.7 billion years ago to the present time. With a large candle in the centre, and every foot representing 100 million years, candles were placed marking important events in the evolving universe. One person slowly walked the spiral lighting the candles as Emily and I read the story of the Universe. In the darkness of the evening it spread an awesome awareness that the Universe tells an amazing story, of which we are a part. It is our story. Our consciousness has brought us to a place where the earth – and our future – depends on us. We all sat in awed silence as the story ended.
On Saturday each person presented their week’s project. Emily, being much more eloquent that I, expresses it thus. “Here we were, with a group of semi-professional photographers. ey were wizards of technology, and had developed their sensitivity to the beauty of nature to a ne point. We heard and saw a lyrical love story about a beautiful dewdrop, who was clinging to a leaf. It rolled o the leaf, and down to another colony of leaves and drops of dew, where an amazing thing happened. She fell in love with a small bit of fog which had wandered in to the cluster of ferns. ey managed to have some time together and soon there were little babies, in the form of gorgeous opaque drops clinging to the leaf which had now become their home.
ey were a close family, about 15 of them.” And that was just one of the eight presentations.
Sunday morning, we parted with fond farewells, having shared the depth and meaning of our lives.
We wended our way home enlarged and enlivened as we meet the future of our days.