My online journal where I share my interests in photography, nature, coffee life, journaling, fountain pens, bicycling, spirituality and asking deep questions.
To know how to grow old is the masterwork of wisdom, and one of the most difficult chapters in the great art of living.
Henri Frédéric Amiel
I remember the moment distinctly. I had ordered a sandwich and then questioned the price as it seemed too low. The response was, “I gave you the senior discount.” Wait a minute! What just happened? It took a second to pull myself together then accept the discount but the words left their mark somewhere deep within me. I’ve had time to ponder those words and I realize I had just passed over some unseeable line and into a stage of life I knew nothing about. It was a strange land I was not ready or prepared for.
Gratefully I’ve come to see things with older and more seasoned eyes and a spattering of wisdom. I am learning to accept living in this stage of life’s journey and it’s gifts of wonder, awe, surprises, moments of joy, and the strength and courage to face life’s difficulties. I’m also discovering the aches and pains of an aging body that comes with this new territory. I’m coming to know how to grow old rooted in the masterwork of wisdom. Even though it can be difficult at times I find the learning to be one of life’s greatest adventures. I’m enjoying this chapter of my life and the art of living it.
The governor resigned his exalted office and came to the Master demanding to be taught. ”What is it you wish me to teach you?” asked the Master ”Wisdom.” was the reply. ”Ah, my friend! How gladly would I do that were it not for one major obstacle.” ”What?” ”Wisdom cannot be taught.” ”So there’s nothing I can learn here.” ”Wisdom can be learned. But it cannot be taught.”
The saddest aspect of life right now is that science gathers knowledge faster than society gathers wisdom.
Isaac Asimov
There are many who are wise and do not have degrees or a data bank full of information. My experience has taught me that the only source for wisdom is not to be found in a book, wikipedia, social media, the college campus, Dr. Google or listening to my ego. It’s rather easy to gain information, or misinformation, but gaining wisdom primarily requires the lessons learned from life experiences, plus knowledge. The failures, mistakes, pain, suffering, self-examination and a dose of humiliation have been my greatest teachers. I’ve heard it said the wise know they don’t know the answers. They do not tell us what they know, they will only share their experiences of life with us. Then for us to be wise we will need to listen to those who are wise and learn from them. Sure rings true for me. I’ve come to see how those who have a practice of prayer and meditation, spending time in solitude, silence, and nature, have learned to listen to the voice of their innermost self. Makes me wonder if that is the source of our deepest wisdom? Have a wonderful weekend!
Sunrise over Dixon Reservoir at Pineridge Natural Area – June 2022
I want to end this year of blogging with an image from this past year that depicts where I took my camera on a regular basis. My focus over the past year was spending time in the natural areas and coffee shops with my journals and camera. This connection with nature and people has been invaluable for me.
This year’s end has brought me unexpected challenges for my physical and emotional healing that needs to be met in this coming year. Seems much of our world is in a similar crisis, facing challenges for its own healing. I believe we must fundamentally reconnect to a God of our understanding, to nature, to one another, and ourselves for any healing. Seems many in my circles, young and old, are awakening to this reality. I also hope many will awaken to the reality that we are created out of love to be love. So, I’m moving into the new year with a thin thread of hope that all will be well! Hope just may be the key in transforming our world. Each sunrise offers a new day, a new beginning, a promise of hope, and an opportunity of living a life of love. Maybe the world needs to begin more days witnessing the new sunrise and contemplating their connection to creation.
I’ll end with this simple prayer: May we live a life of serenity, courage, wisdom, strength, compassion, healing, love, the help of family and friends in facing the reality of life. I love you!
I hope you have a wonderful coming year full of good health, family time and sunrises. Happy New Year!
God, grant me the serenity to accept the scenes I cannot change, courage to change the scenes I can, and wisdom to know the difference.
I have been praying the Serenity Prayer every morning before my feet hit the floor for a few years now. The prayer is about three basic things: serenity (acceptance), courage (to change) and wisdom. I’ve become aware that I’ve been using this prayer in my photography without realizing it, but with a slight twist. I would suggest you may also. Let me explain using these two images.
I noticed this scene while driving along County Road 19. I knew from the get-go I was not going to have the image I wanted because of the close proximity of the house and tree. I wanted the sun setting behind the tree without the house but with the tree more towards the center. Wasn’t gonna happen in this scene. A couple extreme options were…
I could burn the house down but there would be court dates to deal with and I didn’t think the image would be worth the outta pocket expenses. Another option was to move the tree but I didn’t have a chainsaw for that task, nor the time. I don’t know about you but I seldom carry a chainsaw in my camera bag. Or I could….
… accept the scene as it is. So, I began by changing my expectations. The image I wanted when I first saw this scene I was not going to get. But, here is what I could do. I could work with my exposure, making sure it was what I wanted. I had my 70-300mm zoom on my camera because I had been photographing pronghorn antelope a few minutes earlier. So, I took a half dozen images, cropping at various focal lengths with and without the house in it. Again, I had little time to decide before the sun set.
I’ve been shooting long enough to know that I will not always come home with a keeper. I’m comfortable with that knowledge and therefore do not get as frustrated and lose my (serenity). I knew I could accept the scene as it is, aware I may trash all of them later (courage). Of course this is much easier today with digital than film days (more courage). I also knew that I was there to witness this gift of nature and store this scene in that place Mary Oliver calls the “kingdom we call remembrance.” I also know there would be other opportunities to come (wisdom).
After bringing the images home I found a couple that worked for me. The top image is without a crop and includes the house. It turned out better than I envisioned. I find it quite acceptable. The second image is the same image but with the house cropped out. Having the tree as far to the edge of the frame really did not take away from what I first saw. Shows you what I know. Both images are acceptable to me. If you are so inclined please let me know which image you like better. And, what experiences have you like this?
Just for fun, and because Tom stirred the pot, I went back and looked at other images I took to see if I include the whole house. I did and like them as well. I also did not realize how I must have moved along the road in my attempt to eliminate the house because this image has the sun on the opposite side of the tree.
On a drive down Rist Canyon I came upon this tree shrouded in clouds and mist.
“Too often in the past our approach to truth has been to assume that we have it and others do not. Consequently, we have thought that our role is to tell people what to believe. We are being invited instead into a new humility, to serve the holy wisdom that is already stirring in the hearts of people everywhere, the growing awareness of earth’s interrelatedness and sacredness.”
John Philip Newell
I went to a local coffee shop to sit outside and journal but that did not happen. There was a group of men gathered around a couple tables talking loudly, wearing shirts that told you their political opinions, one of them packing a gun. We are faced daily with people telling us what to believe, their truth, from all different perspectives. It was not a comfortable place, so I left. I went where I could listen to the birds sing. They make more sense to me and I love their music.
What would our world be like if people spent time in nature? Would there be an experience of the awareness of our interrelatedness and sacredness that Newell talks about? How would that change us? Maybe we’d realize we need to be students rather than know-it-alls. Or worse yet, think we need to change the world but not ourselves.
A gentle snow storm at Arapaho Bend Natural Area in 2014
Generous listening is powered by curiosity, a virtue we can invite and nurture in ourselves to render it instinctive. It involves a kind of vulnerability – a willingness to be surprised, to let go of assumptions and take in ambiguity. The listener wants to understand the humanity behind the words of the other, and patiently summons one’s own best self and one’s own best words and questions.
Krista Tippett, Becoming Wise: An Inquiry into the Mystery and Art of Living
Over the years I’ve discovered how poorly I listen. Some of the discovery is from encountering people who are poor listeners, enabling me to see the reflection of myself in them. Becoming a better listener allows me to be the student rather than thinking I need to mansplain it. I agree with Krista that listening is a virtue we can invite and nurture and overtime becomes instinctual. It seems to me listening is the very foundation to any healthy relationship with another human and all of creation. With that in mind, my curiosity begs to ask the question, what do we learn when listening to the silence of a winter snowfall?
