Thanks to those of you who contributed photo themes to keep me creatively occupied and in mischief. I’ve had staff faces, tension, equipment as art, textures, hospital hustle and bustle, and probably my favourite – slippers! More on that lower down. But before I show you today’s creations I need to have a little ramble on about boredom. I know, how exciting.
Sometimes we just have to sit and await the world’s unfolding. These moments are quite rare in our striving, can do world. We have become quite used to doing something all the time; to taking action, making decisions, wresting control – doing anything except just wait and watch the world unfurl. Moments when we don’t have access to distraction or entertainment are very rare. So when we are in one of those slower, bland moments, just sitting a waiting is beyond our habit, even with access to online distractions, and we may describe this time as boring.
Perhaps a trigger for the boredom is when choice has been removed, when we have to just sit and wait. The week that I am now in has been called by many of my caring team as a ‘boring’ week. When compared to the first week – with its catalogue of medical interventions, monitoring, drugs, recalcitrant bodily functions, ongoing discomfort, poking and prodding – it is certainly less eventful.
This is the kind of boring I can cope with, maybe even thrive in. For it is also an opportunity. A time where sitting and observing this unfolding is a little like a retreat. I can watch my thoughts, reflect upon where I am and where I might be going. I have time for seeing and creating and for sharing how this is for me.
At least this is the shape of most of my days. However, there are still swathes of time where it all passes me by. Where it is just about escaping the humdrum. And amongst the paying attention and watching the world’s unfolding, escaping has a place. I believe that it may provide an opportunity for rest and fun, for my subconscious to have a holiday. I can just imagine my subconscious on a sun lounger, in the shade of a tropical beach, watching the waves and reading his favourite book.
And bang, I am back in the room. More meds are being doled out. Routine and boredom are OK. Balance between the watching, paying attention and escaping is the key for me. And then there is always a firework moment to look forward to. This morning’s first bowel movement for over a week is certainly one of those! Who would have thought I would ever have blogged that sentence. See, certainly not boring.
Equipment as Art
This is the theme I went with today (thanks Sis). I did talk to several nurses about photographing them, but there was a strong reluctance to get involved. So equipment as art today. Here are a few of my favourites.
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I sense that the slowing of change and the adjustment to my new scenario may influence the content of these blog posts. It’s a challenge in the relentless routine and unchanging sensations to find interesting creative output. But then that’s why I’m doing it! So here goes.
Medically all is going as well as possible. There is not much change. Less painkillers is good. Eating is happening, but is not inspiring. The main item of entertainment is, “Have your bowels moved today Lee?” The common answer is unfortunately negative. However, I have stopped needing the codeine which allegedly doesn’t help and started taking a probiotic, which will help my gut return to some normality. I could certainly do without the enemas!
The highlight today – unless my bowels move(!) – will be the visit of my lovely valley girl. Dinah is travelling up today and should be here this afternoon, possibly picking up a bacon sandwich on route. Yum.
Meanwhile, I have been out for my morning wander, creating a few photos within my confines. I have chosen a few to share below. But I fear that my creative juices are being a bit drained. I’ll have to have a re-think tomorrow. Or maybe you could set me a challenge? Send me a photography task that would entertain and stretch me. Go on, you know you want to. Just add it into the comments below or use the contact page.
I like this one for its simplicity, colour and humorous juxtaposition
When in doubt hunt out colour and throw in a diagonal
Multiple exposure in camera. What is he thinking?
Who cannot fail to get well with support from these two?
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This second week of recovery is a slow moving beast. How I can remain sane, positive and support my well-being is at its heart. Today, I thought I would ramble on about how art is helping, not that I am not engrossed in reading, Netflix and podcasts. But every morning I crack out my camera, challenge myself to create some new photos of the same place and write this blog. Both art ventures are rooted in unchanging routine, with medical highlights true, but generally the landscape is unchanging. I know that as the days progress this will become more relentless, so the art comes into its own. Well-being can be supported by art. Here’s how I am doing it.
I had no intention of writing this blog, nor that it would become a daily activity. However, its emergence has been quite natural and matches my usual blogging. Writing about what is present in my life and creating photos to accompany it has been my way for several years. Usually this has been related to my work, but it is always rooted in my daily activity. So these ‘Tales from my hospital bed’ are a natural consequence.
How they can continue to be entertaining for you and supportive for me is the challenge. Particularly as this next week is quieter medically. And so I return to my intention, to write about what is happening. Today that is the challenge of creating new and interesting photos in the same environment. I have just my room, the ward, and the lift area and stairwell outside the ward to play with.
As I mentioned yesterday I have the facility to combine two photos in camera. This is interesting as a technical skill, but the art still has to be purposeful. Here’s an example.
Keeping my feet on the ground
This uses the same background as yesterday’s header image. It’s looking down the 10th floor stairwell, a view that suggests a huge climb has been achieved, but that also a big fall is possible. By then situating my feet where I did, I am suggesting that however I feel each day I have to stay grounded, stay rooted to my current standing. Another words, pay attention – be mindful. I liked the fortunate location of the light, in that one foot is lit with bright sunlight, the other is darker. A nod to the light and dark that passes through my day, as events bring both contentment and difficulty.
A lot of my art is about how I am in the present moment. So quite often I feature in some form. I regularly look for different ways of producing selfies that could reflect differing mental states. Not that I am always experiencing them at that moment. More that I have or will. Here are a couple of examples. What mood or emotion does each one convey for you?
Shadow man ascends
Inverted lift man
And then I also look for interesting photo opportunities. The view from my window is a constant draw. This diptych of images was created as an intentional pair, simply to show night and day of the same view. Tricky to get them exactly the same without a tripod and marker pen! But you get the idea. The intention of the pair is not only to create interest in the view, but to remind us of light and dark, sun and shade. For every state there is an opposite.
A Final Thought
It appears that creativity is endless, like numbers or the universe. Having released everything I had thought of with relation to Mindful Photography it came as a surprise when considering what I would do next photography wise that I had more to give. I have the working title for my next book – ‘Photography for Well-Being’. Not only that but when I started thinking about format, it immediately became clear that this must be an experiential learning book. Primarily it will contain photography activities – I have 21 new activities so far – each one will teach a photography skill, but more importantly each will be designed in such a way as to enhance your well-being. I am going to spend a few months completing the activities myself – to create accompanying photos – and write the text as I complete each activity. Kind of art for well-being in action. At least that is the plan from the hospital bed. I recognise that this all could change!
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There is a risk that these medical missives could turn into a moan fest. During the middle of last night’s drug dispensing (not as dangerous or exciting in hospital as on the mean streets) I composed today’s tale in my head and it was a catalogue of whingeing, mainly about those who are caring for me who always leave the damn light on when they finish with me. I could rattle on about this type of person, but they are in the minority. Instead I will salute the caring, the patient, the funny and the wonderful nurses and doctors who go the extra mile.
The dreaded feed, brown sludge
If you have spent anytime with NHS recently you will know that services are stretched beyond breaking. The only thing that keeps it barely hanging together is the goodwill and hard work of the staff. I have had fabulous considerate care from many, many staff. Particularly a shout out for all the nurses – of every grade. Long hours and changing shift patterns is just the top layer of their commitment. They are compassionate, conscientious, caring and calm, especially when I am at my least well and can barely communicate what I need because I don’t know and can’t talk.
As a minimum all these staff do their job with kindness and good grace. Some go the extra mile, checking in to see how you are doing when they are based elsewhere. All have a smile and reassurance that things will improve. They are essential to my well-being and without straying too far into the election mire I would like to shout out from this 10th floor bed that the next government needs to invest heavily in the NHS, not continue its death by 1000 cuts.
No more politics, promise.
Alternate window view
Health-wise I’m doing OK. Recovery is on track. All the drugs for this, that and the other are exhausting, but I am sleeping through all the noise, disruption and discomfort and that is key to my ongoing improvement. It is a joy to receive messages of support and love from friends and family.
These will be even more helpful in the coming week or so. You know how it is. After a while routine takes over and that old friend, fighting off boredom with his laptop, books and camera, may slip from your thoughts. Don’t let it happen! Be alert. Send me something to make me smile, laugh, cry, whatever. Keep ’em coming! Your support keeps me going through all the crap. Oh yeah, and please turn the light off when you go. Ta
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I’m feeling a bit rubbish today. For the first hour or so I was nauseous, dazed, dizzy and tired. Anti- sickness meds were consumed immediately – I can have pretty much anti-everything drugs it appears. Though the unnatural balance achieved can’t be ideal, it is better than puking with a stent and trachi in place. This unnatural balancing also extends to my bowels – the usual (non) reaction to anaesthetic – tho it hasn’t worked for a couple of days now. Probably explains the sickness.
Well done if you’ve got through the first paragraph of medical moaning. It’s better out than in! The operation does appear to have gone well, so I need to stop the moaning huh? But I have to wait until 19th November before we know the extent of its effectiveness, so there’s sure to be some more moaning before then. Until then I’ll just vomit my pain, agony, uncomfortableness and impatience all over this blog.
So how goes the average day? Hospitals like their routine and this one is much like all others, the routine being structured by drug dispensing, medical monitoring, doctors’ inspections and staff patterns. Of all of these, the morning dispense of medications is probably the most annoying, particularly if you have finally drifted into a deep sleep and then are gently but insistently prodded (verbally) awake at 6.00am.
Generally though, all moaning aside, I am coping well. I have been able to sleep intermittently through all the noise and light and in an upright position – don’t want to drown in my own phlegm do I now? This is my first weekend and it’s different from Monday to Friday. Quieter, less staff and action. Perhaps we’re not allowed to be any more ill at the weekend, “Just keep ’em ticking over nurse” is the staff briefing for the weekend crew.
My routine, which is developing because of their’s, involves getting out of bed before 8 (tho that was a struggle this morning), opening the blind, turning on the fan – to move the warm, stale hospital air – and going for a short and exciting lap or 3 around the ward. There I am, still attached to the feeding mobile, shambling along, occasionally waving or smiling at any patient who is not immersed in their own distraction therapy.
As I walk I try to remember to do my breathing exercises, several deep breaths held for 5+ seconds. This helps to loosen to phlegm that is an ongoing pain. I did a record 5 laps this morning, with no noticeable problem. This afternoon, my lovely Dinah will be visiting, and we will escape the confines of Ward 10 for a while, touring exciting places like the lifts area outside Ward 10. I won’t be able to sleep later.
All of the out-of-ward experience is only possible when I get my 4 hours off the feeding station. This is a crucial stage for dissolving the developing stir-crazy feeling. Perhaps it should be an essential step of the surviving a long hospital stay guide?
Anyways that’s enough of my whingeing for a while. I’ll finish with a few photos, again photography is being used to support my well being. I can recommend it!
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Three days after my major op I’m alert (well I am right now, it comes and goes) and healing. The process all went as expected and now I have a couple of weeks in the hospital where patience will be my watch word.
That’s easy to say, but I have to sit around the ward for almost two weeks until I have the trach removed, hopefully. There is daily testing, poking, cleaning, drugs and more drugs to colour the day.
Fortunately the lovely Dinah comes to keep me entertained, and I fall asleep. Ah yes sleep. It’s been intermittent. The pain and testing disturbs any long rest, and so I fall asleep when visitors come.
So if you’re at a loose end drop me a line, you will help the day pass with a little more flavour and boy does it need that. I have all forms of communication here, but no voice of course. Hopefully that’ll be back in a short while. Until then I can entertain with these dazed messages. Do write back!
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I have throat reconstruction surgery planned for November. I have recently had the date officially confirmed and have begun to consider how this major change sits in my life path. My current feeling is that I am at the edge of a significant new period of my life and the surgery is a flag that is alerting me to this fact.
The throat reconstruction will affect my airway, voice and swallow function. Hopefully, the final one of those effects will be a temporary difficulty, but the other two will shape the rest of my life. I hope that improved breathing ability will increase my capacity for physical exercise. At the moment I can do gentle exercise, including walking gently undulating paths and walking football. I am hoping that I will be able to manage hills more easily in the future and possibly vigorous cycling!
The way the surgery affects my voice will be fundamental to future communication. I imagine that this will affect how I work and socialise. My voice is already quiet, the possible reduction in that volume will influence how and where I can communicate. I am sure that my social life will adjust, but the impact it has upon my working life will be interesting. I have already pulled back from offering and workshops or courses in the near future, until it becomes clear if I can still teach live. I do love doing that, so this will be a loss that is felt.
This impending change has been one of the reasons I have finally got around to publishing my eBooks. Knowing that public speaking may not be possible in the future has motivated me to share the work I love to teach in written form. Understanding how to prepare the books for publication, including the world of eBooks and Amazon, has been a steep but enjoyable learning curve, and maybe something that I do more of in the future.
In fact publishing the eBooks has been the thing that has alerted me to how I am on the edge of great change. Releasing the eBooks is a clearing of the decks. I know that when you let go of something other things turn up to fill the space. What emerges into this new chapter of my life will be intriguing. I believe there may be more books and certainly more photos. Perhaps more art photography? From here on life will be different. Next year I am hoping to move house and location, buy a new house with my partner and I turn 60. That is a lot of change but the world is rich with possibility and I am ready (I think) for the new opportunities and of course, I will be using my Mindful Photography practices to support my adjustment to the changes.
“Photography is putting one’s head, one’s eye and one’s heart on the same axis”
Henri Cartier Bresson
I do love this quote. Not only does it summarise my view of photography beautifully, it has also been an inspiration for my development of a mindful approach to photography.
Henri Cartier Bresson was a French photographer who is generally regarded as the father of photojournalism. He was an early user of 35mm, which with his rangefinder Leica and 50mm lens attached allowed him to develop his candid style of street photography. He is perhaps most famous for coining the phrase ‘the decisive moment’, to describe the optimum time to press the shutter.
This quote neatly encapsulates the key aspects of outstanding photography and is worthy of a brief analysis.
What we see through our eyes is light and colour. Our eyes do not know what it is that they see. In that way they are very much like the camera, they record the light. They do not label what they see.
Our eyes also see like a combination of two lenses. They have a focal length similar to a 50mm lens, but with far wider angle of view. Our peripheral vision gives us the view similar to a fish eye lens – but without the severe distortion.
All of this sensory information is passed instantaneously to the brain, and that is where the trouble starts!
By head, we mean the role of the mind in photography. Its primary purpose is to interpret all of the visual information provided by the eyes. This is to keep us safe, identifying potential threats and potential sources of food. Except when we train to be photographers all of that identification and labeling can get in the way of seeing what is really in front of us.
The features before us are the light, colours, shapes, forms, lines, space, patterns and textures. Our mind receives this visual information and in a snap compares this to known similar visual data and labels the object(s). All very useful on the Serengeti Plains when out hunting, but as a photographer creating a great photo it is the features that we need to see before the label. For it is this that will guide our artistic creation through compositional choice.
So how can we learn to forget the names of what we see and truly see everything, and every possibility? Practice. In the books I have available I share practices that can help to develop this ability.
The heart is used here to signify the emotion of a photograph. If we are to create photographs that rise above the ‘good’ to be ‘great’ we need to engage the heart. Both ours and the viewers. How can we do that? Guess what? I share some of the foundations of how photographers first attempted to do this, and some useful mindful practices to support your development as photographers in my books.
If you are intrigued why not download the free eBook below and then you’ll get some great information, and 9 Mindful Photography Practices. These will help you to develop mindful attitudes: Patience, Beginner’s mind, Non striving, Trust, Letting Go, Acceptance, Non Judging, generosity and Gratitude. It’s a win-win!
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Over the last few years I have slowly come to the realisation that it is life that is the practice. Every aspect, every element, every event, every difficulty provides opportunity to be with how it is and respond skillfully. That is for me, the heart of mindfulness. It is not just a practice, but a way of life. The practice is life. Life is the practice.
It is helpful to reflect on a current definition of mindfulness.
“Mindfulness isn’t just about knowing that you’re hearing something, seeing something, or even observing that you’re having a particular feeling. It’s about doing so in a certain way – with balance and equanimity, and without judgement. Mindfulness is the practice of paying attention in a way that creates space for insight.” Sharon Saltzburg
Sharon Saltzburg perfectly distils it down in that final sentence. ‘Mindfulness is the practice of paying attention in a way that creates space for insight.’ The ability to do this, to be this way, is born from daily meditation practice and a commitment to pay attention to each moment of the day. It is the paying attention that is difficult to maintain. Meditation is the training ground. We sit and we pay attention to our mind leaping about. We use an anchor (breath, sound, sight) to come back to ourselves in the moment.
Modern scientific understanding of the brain’s functioning helps us to understand how meditation creates neural pathways which we can then use throughout our day to support our intention to pay attention. If you’re interested in this concept take a look at this simple explanation of neural plasticity
My own experience of meditation and mindfulness echoes this. I have had a daily practice for several years. Only in the last couple of years have I started to notice it infiltrating the rest of my life, as I have slowly developed the ability to pay attention more often in the rest of my life. Of course, I regularly fail. I fall back into old behaviours, habits and ways of thinking. I know why; those neural pathways have been around longer. I often liken them to motorways. I’m used to using them and they get me places quickly. Or so I imagine.
The intention to practice paying attention throughout my life has a simple goal. Sharon Salzburg called it creating space for insight. Another Mindfulness guru, Jon Kabat-Zinn, talks about us developing the ability to respond skillfully, rather than reacting habitually. I intend to continue to develop my ability to be with each moment, fully accepting how it is and responding skillfully. That is the life practice!
So if that is the intention how can a Mindful Photography Practice help?
Mindful Photography Practice
I meditate daily, walk mindfully occasionally and intend to follow a mindful photography practice once a week. Any activity can be an opportunity to practice mindfulness, to practice and develop the habit of paying attention. As Mr Kabat-Zinn says, “Applying mindfulness to any activity turns it into a kind of meditation.”
I generally keep my practice simple and I’ll explain what I do and how below.
Camera and lens choice
Firstly, I always use the same camera and lens set up. I favour a prime lens that echoes how we normally see. A 50mm focal length or equivalent is the way to go. My current camera, the Fuji XT2, has a crop factor of 1.5. so a 35mm lens is equivalent to 52.5mm on a full frame sensor. (Confused? get a simple explanation here….and then check out your camera a lens combination here. Warning: you’ll need to know your sensor size.)
If you use a zoom lens that’s fine. You can carry on using it as is, or you could tape it up at the 50mm equivalent and just use one focal length. Why do this you ask? If you use just one lens regularly and it is similar to how you see, it will support your ability to create photographs that are similar to what you see. Wide angle and telephoto lenses distort the photo. For me the essence of the mindful photography practice is to represent what I see and how I see it.
Camera set up
My regular set up is Aperture Priority with a mid range aperture as my walk about position and ISO appropriate for the light. The basic intention is to choose a simple set up from which I can create photo that represents what I see, that is exposed correctly and with a good depth of field. If I want to make creative choices about depth of field, focus, white balance etc I can do so mindfully from this position. After creating the photo I then return to the original camera set up.
Four Stage Seeing Practice
My own Four Stage Seeing Practice is the anchor for a mindful photography practice. This involves coming back to what I see every time I notice my mind has gone elsewhere, much in the same way as you return to the breath when meditating. The four stages are Anchor, Seeing, Resting and Creating. I explain them fully in my book – Mindful Photography: How to use photography to develop mindfulness
I generally practice for an hour, choosing to walk around a location and just notice what I see. The heart of the practice is to not look for a photo opportunity. That may sound contrary. After all I do expect to create some photos. My suggestion to you is, don’t look for a photo, just observe what you see. The photo will come to you.
If you practice this regularly one day this simple instruction will become part of how you photograph and you will have established a mindful photography practice as part of your intention to live a mindful life. Until then keep practicing!
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“Creativity is a wild mind and a disciplined eye.” Dorothy Parker
You are creative. It is in your DNA. It is in your soul. Every day you create. You may have a bright idea. You may invent a witty one liner. You may put together a fabulous meal from the meagre ingredients in your kitchen. You may just create a photograph. Every day you create conversations, you ad lib and innovate. What is certain is that your capacity to make something from the moments or elements of something else is your birthright.
The difficulty with this is that you might not agree. You may equate creativity with art and you would not be wrong. Art is a creative practice, it is creativity as self expression, as invention, as entertainment, as solace, as celebration and as escapism. But because you equate creativity with art, and you were told in school that you were rubbish at drawing (or painting, or pottery, or sculpture….) you now believe that you are not creative, and that you are not an artist. Wrong, you are bursting with creativity, but it may be trapped behind a door. A door of disbelief, of doubt. Never fear I have the key and I am going to share it with you.
“Every child is an artist, the problem is staying an artist when you grow up.”Pablo Picasso
The key to unlocking your creativity is mindfulness. The quieter you become, the closer you move to your essence. The more centered and grounded you become the more present you become in your life. The more present you are the more access you have to your untapped well of creativity. It really is very simple! Simple to explain, if not quite so simple to achieve. Let’s start with mindfulness.
What really is mindfulness?
Mindfulness is paying attention, on purpose, to this moment without judgement. That is all fine and dandy but what is really going on?
Mindfulness is a 2500 year old suggestion. A suggestion that if you pay attention to your life, your sensations, your thoughts and your feelings you will have taken the first step towards relieving your suffering. Stay with me here! You suffer. I suffer. We all suffer because we believe that life should be a certain way and quite often it is not. Our most common critical judgement of our life is, ‘I don’t like this’ or ‘I hate this’. Then we suffer.
Mindfulness provides a huge challenge. I asks you to be with how things are, not how you would like them to be. That doesn’t mean that you don’t make changes or decisions that would improve your circumstances, but that where you don’t have those options you work towards accepting how things really are. I asks you to be aware of the glory, the grime, the liking, the disliking and to notice your thoughts. Particularly those judgemental ones that often involve the words good and bad.
Mindfulness asks you to notice how you react to how the world is. To notice the behaviours, the habits, to notice your way of being. All without judgement. I know, simple to explain, but anything but simple to live.
Your mind is often all over the place. Thoughts run amok (it’s probably happening now as you read this) Feelings fire off across your consciousness with no direction from you. All mindfulness suggests is that you become aware. That you pay attention to what your mind is doing. For in the paying attention there is the possibility of noticing how you are, of being totally present with your experience and therefore of responding skillfully (and of accessing your creativity) rather than reacting habitually. So how do you do this?
How do you pay attention?
Training. Your mind, being used to your busy life, is very active. It is unfettered, running amok amongst your memories, your hopes and fears. It is a feral beast and it needs training. Meditation is the training. Other mindful practices are the training. Any activity conducted mindfully (yoga, tai chi, photography, walking, eating chocolate cake – yes even that could be a mindful practice, see its not all dull!) requires concentration.
Concentration is the backbone of meditation and other mindful activities. When meditating you may start by focusing on your breath, feeling its movement in your body at your nose or in your belly. Each breath in receives a count. 1 in, then 1 out. 2 in, then 2 out. Up to 10. Then you start again
As you practice you may notice your mind, all on its own shoot about, generating thoughts as if from nowhere. You notice and you return to the breath, to the count. This takes ongoing concentration. It’s very easy to get lost in a thought and to loose the count. All that is required is to start again…….and again…..and again…..
Meditation is a practice. Mindfulness is a practice. A regular commitment to meditation and other mindful practices bears fruit in other areas of your life. Almost unnoticed your ability to be present and aware deepens in your everyday moments. This is because your practice has burned new neural pathways in your mind. By meditating you are re-wiring your mind and it is going to change your world – slowly, eventually!
What happens is that imperceptibly over many years your ability to concentrate, and then to be present deepens. At some point you do not need to count. At some point you become the breath. At some point you totally inhabit the moment. You are part of the moment, part of the universe, part of everything. Of course you always were, you just forget, wrapped up in your own world.
In the moment that you become part of the whole you know that your creativity is limitless. You know that you can create, that you are creation. All you have to do is to be quiet, to be aware, to be. Mindfulness is the key to creativity.
“The painter has the Universe in his mind and hands.” Leonardo da Vinci
This photo was created during a mindful photography practice at a multi-story car park. No Photoshop has been used. It is a creative practice that uses slow shutter speed, intentional camera movement and observation.
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This year has been a challenging one. The last six months have thrown up two life situations that have been full of difficulty, but at the same time laced with possibility and learning. The first three months were dominated by a short term contract in a Welsh school to support pupils to develop their own website. The experiences there are for another time. For now, I want to focus upon the last three months which have been shaped by my Mum’s car accident and subsequent death. My early thoughts on this experience were shared in For Dying Out Loud, but I thought it would be helpful to share (for me and hopefully you) how the first few weeks after her death have played out.
I think it is fair to say that I am a little woozy at present – recovering from a small operation and still processing Mum’s death. I write this in the hope that it will bring me greater acceptance and clarity, as I’m sure it will. Let me start with our second trip to Canada, which was actually booked long before Mum’s accident, but has been perfectly timed, after her death to follow her wishes to celebrate her life.
However, before the celebration of Mum’s life we had other instructions to follow. Mum had decided that she would be cremated at a local provider. The basic arrangements were agreed and paid for, even the transport of her body from the hospital was organised. Kim just had to pick up her remains, and then we had to decide how we would meet Mum’s request about the disposal of her ashes. Mum had no desire for a grave or marking of a place to remember her, she desired her ashes to be scattered over ‘flowing water’. Ignoring the helpful advice that ‘a toilet would meet the brief’, we decided to scatter them in Mission Creek, a river that runs through the city along a walk that Mum loved, known as the Greenway. Eventually, we found a suitable bridge and Kim and I took it in turns to take a handful of ashes and scatter them with a few personal thoughts. I did not feel any great goodbye during this. I found it difficult to connect this gritty, sandlike stuff to my Mum, I understood the significance of the action, but it already felt like I had said goodbye.
And so to the Celebration of Life. It’s helpful during the early days after the departure of a loved one to focus on the organisation of what has to follow. This gives us a purpose and a rock to cling to, whilst the river of life is coursing past. I don’t believe that we don’t then think about how painful it is, but that we are doing something positive that both keeps us occupied and makes us feel useful. I can’t say that I did a lot of that! Kim did most of the work, but come the day of the Celebration of Life everybody pitched in.
One of the key features of Mum’s celebration was colour. The venue and everybody attending had to be colourful. Mum had, for decades, worn bright colours, often rocking the one colour look from head to toe that is now apparently trendy! So, the rule was, wear bright clothes, turquoise being the best choice. Most people wore their brightest clothes, sometimes if that didn’t quite rock our boat they were given one of Mum’s colour coordinated hats, just to hit that spot.
The whole event was held and led by a new friend of Mum’s, Corrine. Mum had met this wonderful lady whilst she was in ICU in Kelowna Hospital and very confused. Corrine supported Mum to understand where she was and how she could move through this challenging situation. Corrine and Mum came from the same place, when it came to making spiritual sense of our world, so it made perfect sense for Mum to ask Corrine to lead us through the celebration of her life service. Kim and I both shared our own thoughts and stories, an essential part of coming to terms with our loss, and we also had many photos from her life on display – including a slideshow of original images from the 1960s, some of which were taken in Canada.
After the event the immediate family and friends went out for a big meal, and a couple of celebratory drinks. “To Mum!” we cheered. And the next stage of life commenced, although we didn’t really notice. I am not sure that I have completely tuned into the fact that she is not here to tell me I am a terrible correspondent, or ask where the photos are I said that I would send her last month. I know I miss her reading posts like this and pointing out all my typos! Sometimes I forget that she is not around anymore, thinking we haven’t spoken for a while, before I remember that is no longer possible.
The absence is strange. Our parents and siblings are our longest relationships, when they leave this world part of them remains, in our memories and our hearts. It is this that we must cultivate in our own way, finding a way to hold any pain with compassion for our loss. It is perhaps a little easier when this loss is that of a parent who has lived many years. The loss of someone much younger, unexpectedly and before the natural point is far more traumatic. The confusion and raw, visceral pain must be maginfied manifold, but I believe that the living through it remains the same. Compassion, love and kindness is the antidote for grief. How we find those in ourselves when we feel our hearts are torn open is the challenge. Perhaps, the knowledge that they are always there, no matter what, is a small starting point. We may not be able to imagine this truth, we may need much support and guidance to re-discover them, but they are there and they will surface, even if scars may still remain. This is a truth.
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We don’t much talk about death. We skirt the issue. Express our condolences. Use stock phrases. This unfamiliarity and avoidance becomes self perpetuating. It doesn’t serve us well and it doesn’t support those who are living through death. But I have had a more uplifting experience of approaching death and the final exit over the last few weeks and I would like to share it. To share the love. To invite a positive way through this most challenging of life experiences: death.
Just over eight weeks ago my mother, who lived in Kelowna in British Colombia, Canada, had a car accident. Whilst travelling through an intersection, on a green light, she was ‘T-boned’ – hit side on – by a driver who can only have been distracted and didn’t see the red light. His car was one of those large trucks they love in that fuel friendly continent, so it made a mess of Mum’s hatchback. More to the point it made a mess of Mum.
She sustained many injuries, some which were apparent at the time, some which were discovered over the first few days and some which had existed before, but were not common knowledge. Mum broke most of her ribs, shattered her pelvis, tore her liver and broke bones in both legs. Later we discovered that her diaphragm was irreparably damaged, meaning that she was unable to successfully expel all the carbon dioxide each time she breathed out. This led to two comas and the need to wear a mask at night to expel the CO2.
Early on in her time in the Intensive Care Unit (ICU) it became apparent that Mum had cancer in one of her breasts, and this cancer had been there for 5 years. Fortunately, it was ‘non-aggressive’ and slow moving, but it had still made a mess of her breast. Mum had chosen to not believe that it was cancer and to carry on without taking medication. Ultimately, this made little difference. However, it did lead to a later discovery that she had another type of cancer in her other breast. This one wasn’t so kind. It was the aggressive type and in a normal scenario would have led to masectomy and chemotherapy etc. This though was not an option.
The damage to her diaphragm meant that an operation was not possible. Nor was any other treatment when coupled with a potentially long and unsuccessful rehabilitation likely to rescue the situation. The prognosis was bleak. Life may have been possible for up to year (it was suggested) but the quality of that life would have been debilitating and very challenging.
During all of this my sister Kim, has been at the centre of the care, communication and daily visits. Prior to the accident she and Mum had a good, but sometimes challenging relationship. Now, in an instant everything was turned upside down.
Kim visited daily, often for most of the day and into the evening. She moved into Mum’s flat in Kelowna and she was given fantastic support from Laura (her youngest daughter) who also moved into the flat. Between them they visited Mum every day, sat through the long days, entertaining each other and Mum, rushed in the middle of night when coma called and kept me in the loop every step of the way.
Of course, this is exhausting. Kim was in the middle of a storm of emotion, of fear, confusion and love. Often we spoke, via Skype or on the phone, and I offered what support I could from this distance. She was also supported by her husband Mike and older daughter Morgan, but it was Kim and Laura who daily faced up to potential death and the many feelings that accompany it.
Being an ocean away I felt distant, confused and tired. I was busy with work, but the unfamiliarity of the situation and feeling of helplessness was insidious and debilitating. I didn’t really realise most of the time how much it was exhausting me. The background hum of what ifs and what nexts are relentless. Fortunately, I had fantastic support from Dinah and other friends, so when Dinah spotted an opportunity in our diaries to visit, we booked straight away.
Before we went over I joked to Kim that we would be the half-time entertainment, that the first half was over now and after we left the second half would be quite different – ‘many a true word’…… The visit was a catalyst and support for us all. At the time Mum was deep in confusion. She did not know if she wanted to live or die. The full nature of her situation was known to us all, but knowing, fully understanding and accepting the implications of that are not the same thing.
She did not know what she wanted. To live and work through endless rehabilitation, whilst the spectre of aggressive cancer ate away. Or just to die. One afternoon she became convinced that she was going to die that night. We each spoke to her at length and said our goodbyes. That night we went back to the flat, drank lots of lovely wine and took a vote on the likelihood of her death that night. Gallows humour, I think they call it. Anyway, we all voted that she would survive and she did.
Death can also be tremendously healing. Kim and Mum spent so much time together, talking about nothing and everything. They healed all rifts and left nothing unsaid. Open, honest and authentic conversations are needed at this time. And with that comes love. Love fills in the spaces in our heart, spills over into the people we talk to and holds us up, to face what we did not know we could face. From and with love we develop resilience, heal wounds and become one family supporting each other.
The Second Half
Dinah and I left Canada on a Wednesday. We know now that on the Friday Mum had made contact with the people who could arrange her death. Canada has had Medical Assistance in Dying (MAID) in place since 2015, over 7000 people following the procedure in the first three years. We didn’t know that Canada even had this option. Obviously, Mum did.
I think we knew that it was going to be happening on the Friday, we also knew from research that there was a ten day cooling off period. However, we expected the wheels of administration to move quite slowly. It was a shock to find out from Kim, over the weekend, that it was happening just over a week later. Mum must have signed all the papers and got the necessary permissions in place on the Friday after we left. Truly a catalyst of a visit.
On Tuesday 7th May at 7.30am local time, the procedure was booked to happen. Kim, Mike and Laura were present. The doctor may have been a little late, the space for Mum’s prayers may have slowed things down a little, but eventually she drifted off to sleep and then the heavy drugs did their work. She passed peacfully just before 8.00am and is now on her next journey. During the assigned time Dinah and I sat peacefully at the beauty that is Clyne Gardens. We chose a spot close to moving water and the sun came out to warm us.
Kim and I and the extended family all support her decision. The quality of her life would not have been worth living. Why live on suffering and deterioration? Surely it is kinder to move on? We believe so. Mum looked so at peace and well in her final few days. This came from knowing her decision was right for her, that it was known and accepted by those closest to her and that she was loved. She lived a very full life, had two marvellous(!) children and four fantastic grandchildren. She lived a life of curiosity and enquiry, explored different ways of understanding this thing we call life and emigrated to Canada aged 70. A courageous and much loved woman. We will all miss her and carry her in our hearts.
“If we are able to give ourselves to the loss, to move toward it – rather than recoil in an effort to escape, deny distract, or obscure – our wounded hearts become full, and out of that fullness we will do things differently, and we will do different things. Our loss, our wound, is precious to us because it can wake us up to love, and to loving action.” Norman Fischer
I hope that you are soon going to be taking a break from your busy schedule. You deserve some rest and recuperation. Don’t we all? I am going to be taking a two week break from my many projects, at least that’s what I’m promising. So, this is the last post from me till next year.
Next year I will be starting with a bang, with some very exciting project/exhibition news that might involve you (if you live in Swansea!) In the meantime have a lovely time with your loved ones and I will see you the other side of the festivities.
The feeling of an evolution is a constant for every artist who is pursuing the search of refinement and enlargement of his/her own means of expression.
Living a mindful life encourages an attention to the moment, a paying attention that inspires the development of skillful responses to difficulty rather than an habitual reaction. The wisdom that underpins this is hard won: a product of falling over many times, noticing what caused the fall and then getting back up hopeful that the next time an enlightened response will emerge.
I have learnt over several years that there is a complementary, contemplative partner to this intention. Creating space and quiet to allow periods of reflection supports the embedding of my hard won wisdom. As I have mentioned in previous blogs I irregularly do this on retreat in the Brecon Hills, but recently I have also recognised that there is a simpler, more integrative version I can create in my life.
Both the retreat and the simpler version allow two things to happen. On a conscious level I can reflect and consider what I have been doing over the last few months, what has worked, what hasn’t and then look at what is emerging in the near future that may provide opportunity. On a subconscious level creating space and not thinking about the past and future, just sitting with how the day is and what is in front of me, provides opportunity for deeper understanding and connections to develop.
This simpler version is a slowing down or a stopping of all the doing: all the striving to achieve, complete and develop the next thing. The activity that is driven by the judging mind. The mind that queries whether what you are doing is enough, whether it’s good enough and whether you will have enough. In the slowing down, in paying attention to slowing down and in then moving towards doing less or actually stopping there is the potential for a freedom. Sure that voice may still be heard, but I just endeavour to notice it, breathe, attend to the space and the feelings that emerge beyond that judging mind.
This is a mindful practice itself. Choosing to honour it over the last two months has I believe allowed understanding, certainty and ideas to emerge. An evolution in my creative practice has become known to me.
Evolving Creative Practice
I first became serious about photography 11 years ago. Around the same time I also started exploring Mindfulness. In 2013 I started looking at how to combine them. Now I know what Mindful Photography is, how it can support my life and more importantly how it can support your’s.
This has been a creative evolution. I know it has not been quick and I know that it is ongoing. However, the place I find myself now is one of clarity and certainty. I now know what my creative purpose is and how to make the next step. Beyond that it is still an adventure, but that’s just as it should be.
I have over the last 4 years been writing a book about Mindful Photography. In its early drafts this was part memoir and wholly how mindfulness and photography could work together to enable you to create personal, resonant photos. I was never able to complete the book. I always felt like there was something missing. I knew that much of the content showed an original approach to photography and also started to address how to live a mindful life, supported by a creative outlet. But it just felt a little off and I couldn’t see how to finish it.
Instead, I put it to one side and created an Online Course from some of the content. That launched a year ago and I sold a few courses over Europe and North America. Although it was competent and detailed I never felt that it was quite the thing I needed to be doing. It never truly resonated.
Over the last year I also started teaching Mindful Photography to people who were recovering from Brain Injury. I did this through my two courses; ‘Foundation Skills’ and ‘Exploring Life’. It was this experience that fundamentally shifted my understanding of what I was doing and why.
Delivering learning and supporting people who were living through great change in their life helped me to realise that Mindful Photography was a fantastic resource. It has the potential to enable everyone to explore and understand what has happened in their life and then support them to move towards an acceptance of who they are now.
When any of us experience significant loss it can shake up our world and who we think we are in it. We can be attached to who we were before the loss and not realise that our world has changed so much that we are no longer quite the same person. The loss leads to grieving, whatever that loss might be. The grieving may follow the path of anger, denial, bargaining, depression and acceptance, but in its early days we not even be aware what is happening.
Working with people who were living through the Grief Cycle made me realise that Mindful Photography could provide a way of exploring how life was now, of expressing through photos how they felt and therefore of supporting the processing of the massive change that they were living though.
It was only when I stopped striving, limited my creative doing, just did what was necessary and gave it all a break that this realisation dawned. I now know what my creative purpose is. Through sharing Mindful Photography I can help people live through major life change. I have a focus for my book and working life. The working title of the book is ‘Who Am I Now? – Using Mindful Photography to live authentically through major life change’. This has changed my understanding of who the book is for and of who I am working for.
This understanding has immediately born other fruit. I now have a clear appreciation of the kind of photos I want to create. I want to create photos of people who are living through major change, after a significant loss. I envision a series of diptychs, each two photos side by side. One that represents the subject’s life before the loss, and one the illustrates who and how they are now. Each photo will explore the multiple layers of self and each will reflect upon the other.
The project fits so seamlessly into my other creative work I wonder how I did not see the possibility before. Really, I know. I was too wrapped up in the world, to engaged in the doing to see the potential creative arc. Now it is visible and known, it seems like it was always there. The benefit of creating some reflective space has been cathartic and significant for me. How could it benefit you?
“Here’s to the crazy ones, the misfits, the rebels, the troublemakers, the round pegs in the square holes… the ones who see things differently — they’re not fond of rules… You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them, but the only thing you can’t do is ignore them because they change things… they push the human race forward, and while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius, because the ones who are crazy enough to think that they can change the world, are the ones who do.” Steve Jobs
Let me be honest here. I do believe that I can change the world. There I have said it. I don’t see this bold statement as egotistical, the belief comes from a deeper place than that. It is something I have felt for many years. It predates my major change of life several years ago. I felt it when I imagined I could do it from inside the machine. It was only being spat out that provided the circumstances and the experience for the basis of this work. Now many years down the line, after several slow steps along the way to an understanding, I find myself at a place where I know what I need to do.
Many of you will know that this exploration of Mindful Photography I have been living this past five years is more than just a means of self expression, it has also been the practice that has supported my positive acceptance of the new world that has become my life post acute health crisis. It is this knowing that forms the basis of how I would like to change the world.
Change the world
You may be familiar with the Mindful Photography work I have been doing with Brain Injury patients over the last 7 years. Most recently this has included two 8 week courses with one group that culminated in the Course “Who Am I Now“.
This latter course specifically supports people who have experienced significant loss or great change to understand what they are living through and move towards a positive acceptance of who they are after this momentous life event. The courses have been particularly well received by patients and staff and we have three more scheduled.
During the last course we were also visited by staff from the Welsh Burns Unit, who see how the course could benefit their patients. They are currently considering how they could fund the work.
Delivering this course made me realise that this is the work I was born to do. I have the experience of living through great loss, finding the adjustment to the new version of myself to be close to impossible, and then finding a way that I could combine Mindfulness and Photography to live through, process and move towards a positive new life.
That I can now share methods to do this with others brings me great joy and significantly adds to my own wellbeing. Not only is the work to continue to deliver further courses, it has finally given shape to my desires to write a Mindful Photography book; the book I have had partly written for 4 drafts and 3 years now has a clear purpose and audience.
The work will also form the basis of a collaborative Photography Project with others who are working though the same process after their own significant loss.
How do I know I can change the world? I already have. Don’t just take my word for it, here’s feedback from a student on my last course.
“The course has helped me to begin to accept what has happened – it’s not bad, but a challenge. To open up to others, my thoughts and feelings through the photographs I have created.
I have learnt that I am not alone. I am in a group where I feel safe and secure. That I can relax, breathe and create beautiful, meaningful photographs. That I find peace and mindfulness in the little things.”
NB. The photo is from one of my favourite cafés in Swansea called Square Peg! It’s where I first saw the Steve Job’s quote at the top of the page. They serve great tea.
I couldn’t let this opportunity pass without sharing a Rise/Set photo I created at a mindful photography workshop a few years ago.
I had booked the space, date and time in Llanmadoc on the Gower Peninsula in late September in the hope that we would be blessed with a great sunset. The reality exceeded my expectations providing one of those sunsets where the afterglow colours remind you of the unforgetable artistry that nature can provide.
Llanmadoc Beach faces west and America so the sunset was directly behind the retreating tide. This low tide also provided the opportunities for reflections of the swooning colours in the water sitting on the smooth slick sand. I decided to create something a little different, using a tripod, a low ISO and a slow shutter speed I slowly swept the camera through the horizon and back, creating the finished blurred effect. The colours are as close to the reality as my ability, recollection and software allows. I’m sure that nature’s reality was even more spectacular.
As a footnote it is interesting to reflect how this photo has come to symbolise my work in mindful photography, being used throughout this website, my business card and course promotion material. I even have a spectacular large print framed in my lounge. It has grown to represent this adventure in mindful photography I am currently living.
Some of your greatest challenges will be in accepting situations that are difficult, situations when the world is not how you would like it to be and there’s a ‘Why Me?’ screaming in your head. I thought it might be helpful for you if I shared my current experience (which in turn will help me) in the hope that it will provide you with a way to accept your own difficulty.
Over the last year my breathing condition has changed. Generally I am OK and live a full and interesting life. However, my best breathing condition has worsened slightly. As a consequence this means that my worst breathing condition has also worsened. So when I overdo it, falling into old behaviour patterns that stretch me a little, I face difficulty.
I struggle on for a while, but eventually succumb to an essential short course of steroids to open my throat and remind my body how it can be. This then remains stable until I next stumble into my old behaviour. And so the cycle continues.
The current challenge is that this is not sustainable and this is the first stage of moving towards acceptance of difficulty. Recognising how things really are, rather than how you would like them to be.
Recognising how things are
I would like my baseline breathing to be better than it is. I know that over a year ago I was able to do more gentle exercise (even a little bit of 5 a side footie) than I am now. I know that I am having to take short courses of steroids more often that recommended and more often than over a year ago. I know that I need to make some difficult decisions.
I didn’t come to this recognition quickly or easily. Now, reflecting back on the last six months, I realise have known this truth for some time. However that knowing has been hidden behind wishful thinking. I have imagined that each time I take a course of steroids that my breathing will return to how it was 2 years ago. It does not. This was a delusion, a common way that we all deal with the world when it is not as we would like it to be.
So how could I have accessed this knowing earlier? How can you recognise how things really are?
I believe that at the root of accessing this knowing is an honest attuning to our body and mind. This requires quiet: time when you are not doing anything. This could be meditation, or it could be just lying in the bath, or sat in your lounge with no other stimulation. No radio. No TV. No phone. No book. No chat. This contemplative time gives your mind time to roam. It will shoot about. But your opportunity is to watch this and to note what thoughts emerge.
The practice is not to follow the thoughts, but just to note what they are. Then return to where you are. Feel your body held where it is. Notice your belly moving with your breath. You are here now. The more you provide the space for this to happen and the more you practice not following, but observing the thoughts, the more you will learn.
Recognising the thoughts and feelings
As you provide quiet time for yourself and practice you will develop a greater attention. Some of your thoughts, and particularly your feelings maybe uncomfortable. It is quite likely that at their root there is fear.
My initial thoughts are about the physical difficulty. The struggling to draw breath. This carries with it its own fear. But I have become so used to this that I almost don’t notice the fear of not getting enough oxygen, but the background hum of disliking how it is and general tiredness pervades.
Beyond this initial influx of thoughts and feelings is a deeper fear. The fear of future consequences. These include more minor operations or a more serious life changing operation. The fears that surround these thoughts include feelings of helplessness, of loss of voice, of limitations to my social interactions, of judgement and many more.
Deep seated fears, often linked to loss, death or major change, are usually unacknowledged. They sit heavily obscured by busyness, by doing, by habitual behaviours. Only when you slow down and get quiet to they begin to rise in your consciousness. Space and practice is the key to accessing your deep knowing, for only then can you make wise choices.
Making wise choices
Ultimately acceptance of difficulty, of how things really are only occurs after time and this kind of practice. Only after you return again and again to the practice, to the quiet, do you begin to know, to understand how things really are. Then you are in a position to make wise choices.
Making a wise choice for me is a combination of rational consideration of the situation and the options available, combined with access to the deep knowing. That which you may call your gut instinct, or the wiser part of you.
In ‘Blink’ by Malcom Gladwell the English born canadian journalist explains how the human unconscious interprets events or cues and how past experiences can lead people to make informed decisions very rapidly. He argues that the more complicated the situation, the quicker we should make the decision, so as to access this deep knowing.
I would concur. But my present experience would seem to be a combination of working through the reality of how it is, before I will believe this deep knowing. Then I realise that I knew the choice I had to make all the time. It was just obscured by not liking how it was, by deluding myself, by avoiding thinking about how it was. Once I settled, got quiet and attuned I began to see my truth, how it really was. Then I was able to access the instinct, that which I always knew.
My wise decision has been to re-contact the London medical team who helped me 2 years ago, to begin the process of investigating how it really is. This is likely to result in surgery, either minor or serious, but I have to begin. I have to trust that this will lead to the best possible outcome, even if the fear thrums in my belly.
Accepting difficulty is never easy. However the vulnerability and strength in leaning into the difficulty, rather then running away from it, has the potential to lead you to equanimity and happiness, amongst all of the discomfort and messiness of life.
Does growth exist? Beyond the physical development of our youth, is ongoing personal development a possibility or is everything we already can be present and we only have to realise its presence?
This latter point of view was raised by a friend of mine in a discussion about personal growth. He argued that we were already everything we could be, and that that which we call growth (in the west) is actually just a realisation of something we always were. He went on to say that all that we are is present at birth and that we just had to discover its presence for this truth to emerge.
My immediate reaction to this was, ‘That’s ridiculous’. We experience personal development and growth in response to challenging circumstances, new experiences, formal and informal learning and the assimilation of a number of these thing together over a period of years. Some call this wisdom.
I believe his viewpoint was that whatever we believed the cause was that the ‘development’ was always part of us. The event, circumstances or learning was merely the doorway to that part of ourselves.
Do you know what? I don’t think it really matters how we interpret this aspect of life. Perhaps those two viewpoints are just different ways of describing the same thing and the most important aspect of living is that we pay attention to the opportunities, happenings and make wise choices. What emerges from those choices is what it is.
Planning and Life’s Events
At this time of year the idea of growth (both nature’s and our own personal development) is often on our minds. The idea that we are starting a New Year provides the possibility that we could re-evaluate some of our usual choices, make some wiser decisions and maybe some degree of personal growth will emerge.
I do believe that a regular reflection upon how you are living and what choices you could make to be an even better version of who you are (or open more of those doorways) is a positive strategy for living well. Some commit to New Year’s resolutions. Others plan their year ahead. I have in previous years followed the latter path and have committed to a thorough review of the previous year before anticipating the year to come and developing a loose plan for the achievement of all that I desire!
This year I started the same process (it would have been the 5th year in a row) but it just did not feel right. Instead I sat and reflected upon this feeling, waiting for some wisdom to emerge. Somehow a conclusion suggested itself; distill this planning to a list of priorities. Priorities that I could use whenever I was unclear of the way forward or had a decision to make. I could then look at the list and ask myself what decision, action or choice would best support the achievement of one of these priorities.
I had started to do something similar towards the end of 2017. I know that it seems to support me, but I also recognise that regular evaluation of both the priorities and how I am living is an essential part of the process. Will it result in personal growth? Who knows? Check back here next year!
The photos are all favourites I created whilst I was dog sitting three enormous Labradoodles in Lee-on-the-Solent in between Christmas and New Year. My decision to go there was almost entirely based upon the name of the town!
They exhibit my usual style and sense of humour, but also remind me that professional development in photography is also still desirable. Currently that possibility is in exploring the potential of multiple exposures, all created in camera.
I went to the park yesterday with the goal of creating a photo to illustrate the word serene. It did not turn out as I expected. In fact the only photo I liked of the set created (the one in this post) echoed how I was feeling rather than what I had intended. Demonstrating that what I teach is in fact true!
On my online course, and at workshops and live courses I teach about how to illustrate a feeling with a photo. In summary there are two approaches.
Learn all the ways in which you can use the elements of design (shape, form, colour – or tone in b&w, line, texture pattern and space) to indicate a feeling. This relates to our cultural interpretations and familiarity with the visual elements. A good example of our cultural interpretations can be found with our emotional reaction to colour. Just think about how red or golden yellow make your feel. How much of that feeling is culturally driven?
Alternatively you can just go out when you are experiencing a strong emotion, pay attention to what you are seeing, not look for a photo and then see what presents itself. I know that this instruction is a little Zen like. To see, but not look. But I can guarantee that it does allow something to happen that is quite magical, a connection with how you are feeling. However, you do have to practice.
Back to yesterday, and the serene photo. I went out with a goal and some preconceived ideas. I did not practice what I preach! It was a glorious day and I combined a few ideas about what I imagined would provide a serene photo with some technical experimentation in camera.
It was all a bit too much. I was trying to hard and nothing really flowed. I became a little agitated. BUT (and it is a big but for me) I noticed. I stopped trying, went and sat down on a bench in the crisp brilliant sunshine and had a cup of tea.
I sat and I just looked. I occasionally created a photo. I took a sip of tea. I chatted with a local. I rested. In this slowing down I became more present, although still a little preoccupied with my goal. I reviewed my photos and noticed that one (the one here) illustrated my emotional experience just after I had stopped trying.
The photo made me feel a little unsettled and I wasn’t sure why. Now I know. It reflected my disappointment at not achieving my goal, my restlessness, my trying to hard. There is something a little unbalanced and forced about it for me. It has done exactly what I have summarised above in point 2. It has connected with how I felt.
When you go out experiencing an emotion and don’t look for a photo you may well find that you are drawn to create photos that reflect your inner world.
“I believe that, through the act of living, the discovery of oneself is made concurrently with the discovery of the world around us, but which can also be affected by us. A balance must be established between the two worlds – the one inside of us and the one outside of us. As a result of a constant reciprocal process, both these worlds come to form a single one. And it is this world that we must communicate.”
“I see my path, but I don’t know where it leads. Not knowing where I am going is what inspires me to travel it.” – Rosalia De Castro
I have been a little preoccupied of late. Very busy living life; fulfilling commitments, completing tasks. It leaves little room for reflection and contemplation. As a consequence my blog posts have echoed this period, with plenty of feedback upon my live and online courses. Nothing wrong with that of course, but just occasionally it helps to stop, get quieter, be a little less driven, reflect upon where you are at and contemplate the path ahead.
I was sent the quote that heads this post by my Mum last night. She lives in Canada and dutifully sends me things she comes across that she thinks I will find interesting. The quote comes from a novel about a man who restores old photographs, and I have a few more quotes she sent to call on too.
Following the path
I particularly resonated with this quote. Since I quit my part time job in May I have been working freelance. This has involved a period of re-adjustment and of course, trying to generate work that pays! I have launched my online course and I am delivering a live version of it to Brain Trauma Injury survivors. Both are going well.
I also have project work with the Arts Council Wales, working with schools, pupils and artists to deliver creative learning. It’s great fun, inspiring and interesting. It is also, like all contracted work, short term. I know what I will be doing, work wise, up until June 2018, but beyond that it is a mystery.
I kinda know the path I am on. It involves developing and delivering more mindful photography courses and workshops, both live and online. This resonates with my own personal exploration and intention to live as authentically as possible. The two aspects are intertwined and together form the path.
What I am uncertain about is what lands I will travel and where the path will take me. That is both the attraction and the uncertainty of the path. And as Rosalia De Castro said, ‘…….not knowing where I am going inspires me to travel it.’ But occasionally it is seems helpful to stop, look back at the path travelled so far, look ahead at it disappearing over the hill and wonder at the magic that keeps me on track.