A weekend of contemplative play

Me in inner child mode, discovering the berries of the cotoneasters.
 Photograph by Sonja Hindley

When Hanna used words like curiosity, openness, an attitude of wonder and humility to unlock the door to contemplative photography, my inner child sat up and took notice.

Somehow, even though I've done my bit of reading up on the subject, I didn't make the connection. In anticipating my first hands-on encounter with contemplative photography during our weekend retreat, I imagined myself sitting somewhere very beautiful, keeping very still and being very serious as every now and again I serenely lift my camera to capture a very tranquil scene.

Not so. We were invited to play! And so I did. Trying to keep in mind to wait for the image to be given rather than trying to capture or take or shoot one. How aggressive that sounds!

I frolicked to my heart's content. Through my camera I witnessed the sun rising and painting everything in shades of red and gold, discovered the beauty of common weeds and happened upon a miniature world of sunlit moss on the bark of my favourite Ouhout tree by the river. A purple morning glory shone out at me from the deep shade of a stone wall and the impossibly red autumn leaves of the Pride of India hung suspended against an incredibly blue sky. Everywhere colour and texture and light and shadow invited me to come closer and discover their magnificent beingness.

I had around 250 photographs to sift through and reduce to a handful to show something of the process of weekend. I struggled with old feelings of inadequacy. What if my photographs didn't make the grade? I recognised my ego's old addiction to fame and fortune, my ego need to come across as special. Mindfully does it, no judging, I reminded myself. And remembered my childlike joy as I first looked through the photos on my laptop. All I had to do now was pick some of my treasures and share them with the group. Who wouldn't want to show what they had found on a treasure hunt?

The photos I received over the course of the weekend still have a lot to teach me. I have to sit with them and allow the message to unfold. There's the tightly closed pumpkin flower bud as opposed to the brilliantly open pumpkin flower, the old door with a dilapidated lock that is all but open even when shut.

In her book on contemplative photography, Eyes of the Heart, Christine Valters Paintner captures it so well when she writes: "For me, this is one of the wonders of photography: to be able to frame a moment in time and, within my gaze and absolute presence in the particular moment, to discover holiness. In that single moment, I am reminded that all moments are holy."

On showing my set of photographs, I said that I had learned that everything is worth a photograph. Because everything is worth being noticed.  But that now sounds so very typically humanly superior to me. I need to rephrase it. Using my camera to help me to really see on a deeper level, everything, by giving itself to be photographed, becomes part of a dialogue with God. God whispering in dappled shade. God laughing in pumpkin flower yellow. God singing in windswept leaves.

And I am humbled by the love being showered on me. One frame at a time.

Matilda

P.S The next Contemplative Photography Retreat will be held 26 to 28 June 2015. Please go to About our Retreats for more information.