Tag Archives: Light

Strike the Sky, a meditation

Friends, Friendship, Poetry, Relationships, Sky, Trees, , , ,


Have you ever heard the wind siren through the

camphor? Seen its sociable branches strike

the sky? They look harmless, and your mouth will 

water. But those sumptuous, black berries will

kill you.

 

Even magma simmers beneath the earth in

silence, and lava snakes through 

fractures. Should I have kenned the

explosion? Ingested the  judgment before

spitting it out?

 

Before she left, the heavens swept me dry as a summer

bone. I didn’t know I wasn’t breathing until the resolve

to keep her close began to stink, pinned my nostrils flat

against the stench. Betrayal comes from the

bowels.

Sun god

Light, Photography, Trees, Winter, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

My pulse rises as I pull into a spot at the curb, grab my camera, and scan the park for a place to capture the bursting sky. Another photographer and his lady offer me a prime bench seat. I sit down gratefully and begin to shoot, wondering if a Canonite would have been so generous with the real estate. I’ve heard about the rivalry between those who, like me, shoot with a Nikon, and those who prefer Canon–but have never experienced it.

I decide to play with exposure compensation, dialing it down in an attempt to capture the way the vibrant oranges are manipulating the grayish blue sea; casting shadows on the sailboats, whose skippers must surely be preparing to sacrifice their lives for the mere chance to party with the irresistible sun god.

A wave of peaceful satisfaction washes over me. Behind the lens, with an abundance of manual settings literally at my fingertips, I am participating in the way creativity mingles with reality, enjoying the unchoreographed dance of a spontaneous life.

 

 

 

Photograph is property of the author/photographer, Britton Minor

My jaded lens

Light, , , , , , , , , , , , , ,


Sometimes, when I get the feeling that I am missing something important yet intangible, I remind myself that my perceptions are jaded. Then I seek the broad path of seeing beyond, behind, inside of, below, outside of… differently. Herein lies the rub. How can I provide myself with an unbiased view of something “hard-wired” to be exactly that–biased? How can I change the DNA-fueled impressions I’ve made, been fed, massaged over years of mass media influence, denied, embraced, honed?

For example, how can I decide whether my faith is based on what I was taught, or on what I have come to believe “on my own?” Or how can I decide if my ideas about parenting have come from years of careful observation, natural instincts, intelligence, research and a heart for children, OR if I am wrong about many of the issues I fight (internally and externally) for and against?

Is there such a thing as “being neutral?” Can I be “fair” without also being “unfair? And don’t I consistently remind my children that life is not fair? How about “righteousness?” What does this mean? My way or the highway? The way the local church professes? The way my kids catch any inconsistency I unwittingly demonstrate, and call it out, expecting a resolution?

The lens with which I view my world is not rose-colored, it is cracked, dirty, and grimy. It is clear, reflective and beautiful. It is polarized and jaded. It is all I have. Pressing my eye to the viewfinder, I seek the perfect shot through a perfect lens. Click. I’ve got it! I pull the image up on a large screen to analyze the capture. The background is nicely blurred, the foreground is complementary and leads my eye directly to the subject. That’s when I see it–the perfect combination that suddenly has me taking great deep breaths. I study the shapes, the contours, the colors, the shadows and the light. The simple beauty of the virtual shot I have taken is stunning, but will only be fully appreciated by me. As I begin to flip through my life-album of best images, I realize that my most enlightened, powerful days are compositions made up of confidence, hard-knocks humility and the softest, most beautiful light I can imagine–that of gratitude.

photograph property of The Jaded Lens Photography

Light

Light, , ,

I like the way it feels on the dark side of this wooden fence. I like the way no one knows I’m here. I like the way the sunlight bleeds through the cracks and shimmies underneath, as if trying to find some one, some thing. I like the way it has to stop, just shy of finding me here, hiding, exploring, watching, waiting for nothing but the right moment to emerge. It might take a while today. I need this.

The light-twinged darkness comforts me like a large bowl of mac and cheese would. And mac and cheese makes me sleepy like a large glass of red wine would. And so, I nap without snoring; asleep with my eyes open. I breathe deeply, evenly, like I would in yoga. And I sit here with the in and out in and out air flowing through my nostrils, taking me deep inside the chakra-colored world I am suddenly privy to.

I feel my heart open and see a strong shaft of sharp green light split it in two, simultaneously multiplying the pieces until there are many halves floating in green water, like thousands of lilies waiting for their frogs to sit on top and give them meaning, purpose. I wait…breathing, breathing, and hear and see nothing until one by one each heart-half finds a mate but not a match. The result is beautiful, and no longer only green. Rainbows of color grace each nearly solid heart, and where the chosen mate was not a perfect match, the light bleeds through the cracks and shimmies underneath looking for some one, some thing.

The moment has come, and I emerge from my safe place, prepared to face my stunningly beautiful life and the way it teaches me to use the darkness to fill in the holes with light…