A human life can have everything—beauty, status, reputation, achievement, all kinds of possessions, but if the imagination is not awakened, all these lack presence and depth.
~ John O’Donohue
From my journal, on Day 6 of my week-long photography and visual design workshop with Freeman Patterson and André Gallant in St. Martins, New Brunswick, Canada:
“This week has been as intense as a silent meditation retreat:
- Same exhaustion from almost continuous focus.
- Same inner battles.
- Same depth of ah ha’s and transformation.
- Same tribe finding (my new friend Hélène getting in the car after photographing caves at sunset and exclaiming “Thank you, life!”).
- Same quantum growth.
- Same presence practice.
- Same alignment with purpose.
- Same level of gratitude for the privilege of being able to attend.
- Same depth of spiritual connection with the teachers and fellow journeyers whom the Universe has gifted me.”
The experience was SO BIG. Today I will give you just one small bite as a start.
The St. Martins Sea Caves
Not far from the St. Martins Country Inn where our workshop was based are sandstone sea caves shaped by the Bay of Fundy. You can visit them on foot only at low tide — brief periods in the early morning and late afternoon or evening.
Shortly before sunrise one morning, I was on my way to the beach to practice the visual design skills we had been learning. With no prior training in landscape photography — or any type of visual design, for that matter — I was well outside of my comfort zone. Maybe this was why I was easily distracted by a tree growing alongside the long driveway of the Inn, looking all dreamy and mysterious in the morning mist.
As I was setting up my tripod for a tree conversation, a car pulled up and another workshop participant, Hélène, and her husband asked if I wanted a ride to the sea caves. Yes please!
So, just as we practice in the Focus/Flow meditation from my morning meditation classes, I shifted my attention away from the tree (my comfort zone) to intentionally refocus on this special opportunity.
The sun was still making its way to the horizon behind the caves when we arrived.
We walked carefully over slippery rocks that looked like the heads of balding men. (This shot was taken on our way back to the car, when the sun’s rays had started to reach the beach.)
As we approached the cave, I was spellbound by the rock striations, colors, and textures, as well as by the trees, shrubbery, and other plant life that draped down the side like a pageant queen’s sash. These rocks — about 250 million years old — predate dinosaurs.
My Failure of Imagination
Here is where I let John O’Donohue down that morning. I took a quick peek inside the cave and didn’t see anything that I thought was interesting enough to explore further. The cave wasn’t very deep. I could see the end of it. It was also almost completely in shadow because the morning sun was rising behind the cave.
I watched as Hélène walked through the mouth of the cave with her tripod. I considered following her, but I didn’t want to take the extra time and, probably more truthfully, I was worried that I didn’t have the skill to make a good image in the dark.
Fear of failure and insufficient imagination left me on the outside. (This photo was from a return visit when the setting sun illuminated the cave’s interior.)
So I stayed outside.
Don’t get me wrong…awe and wonder still filled my heart that morning. Just look at the elegant curve of those lines, sculpted by the flow of the Bay of Fundy over an expanse of time that is impossible to get my head around. Look at those colors, layers, textures, shapes and the miracle of the moss.
And look at the inspiring grip of the trees clutching the rocky precipice (again from a return trip when the sky was brighter). Not complaining about the challenging conditions, just continuing to grow.
My Ah Ha (Thank You Hélène)
Later that day, we gathered for our daily evaluation session, where students submit three images for the instructors’ assessment. When it was Hélène’s turn, her image from the inside of the cave made me gasp out loud. It was dark and eery at the edges but bright, hopeful and magical through the cave opening — literal light at the end of the tunnel.
I realized how I had limited myself that morning with stories that constricted my curiosity, imagination, and courage. I listened to thoughts that didn’t serve me. I didn’t see for myself what I could actually do inside that cave.
Of course, I had to go back. This time a few of us explored the cave during the early evening low tide. (I loved how nature called the shots on when we could enter and how it changed every day.)
Here is my own inside the cave shot — quite different from Hélène’s because of the opposite position of the sun — AND meaningful to me. This sense of meaning is the most important part (thank you, Freeman and André, for that lesson as well).
I’d love to hear what you think of the photos and ah ha’s alike. Is there a situation where you could have leaned into curiosity a little more? Have you circled back to a growth opportunity that you missed the first time?
Stay tuned for more lessons from my transformative experience in New Brunswick. This is just the tip of the iceberg.
And in the meantime, if you’d like to cultivate the skills to identify thoughts that don’t serve you and refocus your attention towards more enriching life experiences, check out my upcoming 30-Day Mindfulness Meditation Challenge online session or, if you’re in the Washington, DC, metro area, my Secret Garden Reset day-long retreat. Questions? I’m just an email away at martha@damselwings.com.
