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| Love, Compassion, Joy & Serenity, Nov 2010 |
For months now, I've been trying to both really listen and respond quicker - to these moments n-o-w.
I am still learning how. Thus, when the opportunity to document friends' art and dance shows arose,
I jumped at the chance. With the Paso y Palmas performance at the Centro, I borrowed a friend's tricked-out Nikon SLR 50,000 (or, sumpin' like that) 'cause I figured that my straight point and shoot wasn't a "professional" enough piece of equipment. Not fully comprehending the technology, I didn't know how to allow more light in through the shutter. As a result, I didn't trust my ability to capture the vital moments of passion and drama that oozed (for two full hours) so, instead, I snapped and snapped and snapped away. With close to two-thousand images to choose from, I spent way too many hours laboring over uploading photos while deleting others. (&, I won't even fill you in on the other hours spent transferring images to another computer just so I could burn discs!)
The following weekend, I was again on hand to capture a fleeting experience. This time, I was armed with my point and shoot. However, before I arrived onto a wet and rainy UCSD campus, I had spent the morning down at the La Jolla Cove wandering amongst the stunning shoreline while caught up in a flowing river of time. I stopped in to the Living Room Cafe to gather myself and enjoy lunch. I also enjoyed a wonderful conversation with my table mate. I stuck around a little longer than I would have liked, so as not to be rude to my new acquaintance. With minutes to spare, I rushed out the door and headed up the hill. I knew that I should just relax and savor the ride, yet I became fearful that I would be "late." The driver in front of me was uninformed of my endeavor, however, and refused to drive any faster than 20 miles up the slick road - regardless of how closely I followed on his tale and how impatient and frustrated I became. Yet again, I knew that I should just trust - that all is in divine perfect order, always. But, I didn't. Instead, I became emotionally moved and anxious.
Naturally, I arrived with plenty of minutes to spare. While at Richard Cohen's lecture, I opened up the shutter wide on the point and shoot. In some instances, I pointed my device and waited for a full minute before the shutter clicked. I chose to trust that the mystery that was being revealed that day would also reveal itself within my camera. That night, while uploading the images onto my camera, I cried copiously over what I unearthed. "Don't you see?" I kept asking myself, as I rocked back and forth. "The brilliance is illuminating." For there it all was - love, compassion, joy and serenity - as told by a merry cast of pre-evolutionaries. The beauty is, sometimes, so overwhelmingly tragic. It's so ephemeral, so nonsensical. It just is. I can't explain it and, usually, when I try to, I simply end up hurting myself. My ego wants to know, though ~ it wants to know why my body is pulled in certain directions and why my heart yearns for some thing. It wants to know "why..." I am happiest when I admit that it's all a simple mystery. Maintaining this belief pattern requires much trust on my part, however.
And, this week, the trust has been hard to come by. I feel scared, nervous and overwhelmed. I am fearful about what is currently unfolding in my life. I am afraid that I will not be able to rise to the challenges that these moments n-o-w are demanding of me. I just want to pull the blankets over my head and reside in my state of short-term comfort. I am afraid of the discomfort that is awaiting...
Nonetheless, I breathe in, I think of you and I remember what you've shared with me. I pray that our paths will cross again and that we will revel in more of the mystery together. Yet, I surrender to the fact that this is it. And that this is all it may ever be.
