spirituality

beautiful nothing

0
5 years ago
by dawn in , ,


photo by me

I’m reading Sue Monk Kidd’s The Mermaid’s Chair. In it, one of the characters, Brother Timothy, is talking about being outside, in nature, and finding solace and peace there. He calls it the “beautiful nothing.”

It just is. It’s that place where people miss how beautiful it is because they’ve seen it a million times.

It’s that place where someone has walked or passed by on their way to work and have missed the beauty of it.

I think this is one of the reasons I’m drawn to photography.

I photograph everything – door handles, trees, dogs, kids, even my toes or a curl on my cheek.

I find something comforting, satisfying, and spiritual in these things. There is something intrinsically beautiful in all of them. Whether it’s a dead tree, a rusty door handle, a can thrown into the forest, or the curve of my own neck, I can find something beautiful in each one.

So I start to wonder if creating something beautiful out of the beautiful nothing is more important than the creative act itself or is that a part of the process for me? Am I trying to turn all of the hurt and pain and sadness that I’ve seen in the world into something beautiful?

I don’t tend to photograph other people – I don’t do urban/street photography (which seems to be very popular and well-received in online communities). It makes me uncomfortable. It’s too gritty for me. It’s too close to the edge.

I will stand on the edge of an 800-foot sheer cliff and photograph down into a canyon but I won’t stand on the edge of a sidewalk curb to photograph another human being.

Am I creating my own beautiful nothings? I look at the details of a blade of grass but refuse to focus on the frayed sleeve of a man sitting on a street corner.

I think about the world I’m creating, the photos I hang in my office and my home.

Yesterday a faculty member was in my office and he saw my photographs on my 3 monitors in my office. He said to me, “You’ve created your own windows into the world. What a beautiful view you have.”

And he was right.

I see the ocean at sunset.

I see the depths of the Grand Canyon.

I see a shell sitting in a puddle of water.

And it’s beautiful. And it’s calming. And I find solace in it.

And yet, it is nothing. A bright, amazing, beautiful nothing.

ritual bathing

0
7 years ago
by dawn in

I have mentioned, in the past, about my love for ritual. It helps keep me focused. It helps remind me of my path.

Recently, I was watching the documentary Purity. It is about the Orthodox Jewish women’s miqvah. (It is also about the distancing of women and men during menstrual cycles because of impurity issues but that’s a whole different topic for me and not appropriate at this time.) What I liked about the miqvah that was portrayed were the ritualistic activities that took place around the bathing.

The women cleaned their bodies completely. They took off all makeup, all nail polishes, combed their hair, etc. They took a bath before entering the miqvah to be be clean.

The miqvah signifies that a woman is once again able to touch her husband intimately and the evening of the miqvah is usually set aside for an intimate evening between the husband and wife.

I recently had drawings on my body that had been placed on me with great care, much joy, and much thought into color and placement. When it came time to remove the drawings, I decided to do so in a ritualistic bathing.

I used a specific bathing gel. I set up candles. I was very deliberate in my actions.

I felt the immersion was a sort of continuation of the time spent on the drawings. It was another part of that event.

When I emerged from the bath, clean, drawing free, it was a sort of rebirth, post drawing. It gave me pause. It made me think about the things that are important to me. It made me think about why the drawings were put on my body and why they were allowed to be washed off.

The bathing offered me clarity.

The bathing offered me rebirth.

kneeling

0
7 years ago
by dawn in

I recently finished reading Alice Walker’s By the Light of My Father’s Smile. In this book, there is a ritual between parents and their children when the children are marrying or becoming a part of a couple. The parents kiss important parts of the child’s body: the feet, the palms, the elbows, the stomach, and other areas. It is a way of telling that child (an adult, actually) that his or her body is sacred and beautiful and ready to be shared with another.

There is a passage that I love because it talks about kneeling:

When the time came, and I knelt before her, I kissed not only her palms and the arches of her feet, which seemed to buzz with energy, but also her knees. Because, after all, it is to our knees that we must sometimes be driven, before we can recognize, witness, or welcome our own light.

This resonated with me. When I kneel, I do recognize my own light. I’m driven to my knees by so many things. I do it out of devotion. I do it out of need. I do it out of desire to please. I do it because it feels right. I do it because that’s where I want to be.

Kneeling is a part of the divine. Kneeling is a part of worship.

People kneel in prayer. People kneel when they are overcome by emotion.

Kneeling is sacred and beautiful.

worship

0
7 years ago
by dawn in

I light a candle.

I kneel.

I bow my head to the floor, eyes closed, hands behind my back.

I breathe.

I think of all that I am grateful for and all that I have been given and all that has brought me to this point.

I am humble.

I have been humbled.

I am nothing and everything all at once.

I feel the light of the divine shine down upon me.

A glow fills me.

I speak the sacred words that have been written for me.

I think of what they mean.

I am humbled yet again.

I am filled with gratitude.

I am focused.

I have prostrated myself.

There cannot be enough moments in each day to express my devotion, my gratitude.

I must live a life that expresses this.

I must live in honor.

I must speak with integrity.

I must listen and be receptive.

I must have Perspective, Flexibility, Patiences, Compassion, and Reflection.

I light this candle to worship.

I kneel to show supplication.

I bow my head to show my humility.

I breath to take in the wisdom and expel the superfluous.

I speak to show gratitude.

I live to show adoration, devotion, loyalty, and service.

Every day brings new lessons in humility and gratitude.

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