Tag: mindfulness

It’s a Black and White Day

I wake today in gloom. The cloudy skies are keeping the sun at bay and the rain is dripping from barren branches of autumn and soaking through the fallen leaves now covering my resting garden.

It’s been a difficult week and I have been away from my own bed and quiet home for almost two weeks now. I have been in and out, repacking my suitcase and rushing off to help family, fulfill obligations and responsibilities, doing for others, my focus outwards.

Today, I am home. But the events of the week still reside within me. We have faced death this week with a beloved family member. He wanted to live but was unable to continue. It was time to disconnect.

I feel a disconnection in my own life. Home is somewhere where I used to live. I need to spend more time here. To feel like I belong here. To remember its beauty. To savour the pockets of comfort where I used to reside. To linger. To connect once again with the beloved creations of who I used to be. To love it again.

And so, on this dreary day, I take my camera in hand, turn out the lights, and let the limited natural light of this cloudy day seep in through the windows and doorways.

I sit, quietly and consciously observing the interplay of light and shadow throughout the room. I recognize and connect to the darkness which co-exists with the light. It mirrors my emotions today. I too am dark, melancholy but want to recognize and remember light-filled days. The brightness is still there. I need to look for it.

I give time to remind myself of the joy I had in creating and arranging small areas filled with memories. Once again I search for the spaces of delight that once illuminated my life. They are still there. And today I have the time to appreciate and cherish them. I focus, I remember, and I snap a photo. I snap another one as I move from room to room.

I am taking an online course called Photography and Mindfulness, 10 lessons that arrive every Tuesday and Friday. I have completed five of them and they are teaching me to slow down, use my senses, change my perspective, observe with curiosity and not judgement. I am learning to accept these dark emotions, give them space. They don’t need to leave. Dark and light co-exist together. They complement each other. Yin and Yang. A balance. I am learning to allow the darkness to just be and let my own light gently illuminate it. And that perspective is reflected in my photos.

I shoot them in black and white, recognizing that the black is as important as the white. Shadows cannot exist without light. Light cannot exist without shadows. They are a duality. Their borders touch and interplay with each other. The bright dried hydrangeas from the garden, sit side-by-side with my Korean print in its muted tones, the blurred framed photo of my brothers and sister in the background. It’s slightly out-of-focus as is my memory of my deceased brother Ping. Light spills in from the front door, illuminating the hall, creating shadows along the edges of the angled walls and staircase.  Texture and tones are accented on the carved vase, the feathered grasses, the struggling spider plant, and the carved wooden bird on my bedroom side table as light and dark play among them.

Sitting with these memories brings back the joys and the pains of my past. I have been in this house now for twenty years and there have been many light-filled days as well as the burdensome weight of dark days too. There has been life and death, celebrations and failures, hopes and disappointments. I have cursed them at times but I accept and am grateful for them. I reside with them all. They live within me.

I am my home. This is where I live and belong.

The Power of Telling Our Stories

Last night I attended the ‘Evening of Sharing – The Power of Telling Our Stories’ organized by Lisa Browning, One Thousand Trees Publications. The three speakers inspired me deeply with their unique life stories. They went beyond themselves and shared generously details of their lives from dealing with the death of a loved one, to writing our own stories instead of living through others, and mental illness and depression.
 
Margaret-Ann Brix shared her children’s story “Grampa’s Butterfly”, Melinda Burns, psychotherapist/writer/poet shared the importance of finding our true selves through writing and journaling, and Clay Williams spoke of his inspirational long distance runs for charity, specifically depression and mood disorders.
 
I bought Margaret’s book to share with my grandchildren and found her story to be a delightful metaphor on life and death.
 
Melinda began with a short meditation that focused and centered us. Her lesson was about mindfulness, being our true selves in the present moment. We can learn about ourselves by writing down our thoughts and feelings. She spoke of the difference between thinking, writing, and telling our stories. Writing is that safe space between thinking and telling, where we can record our thoughts and feelings in a safe space with no judgement from others.
 
Clay encouraged us to sign the Canadian flag that he carries with him when he runs in remembrance of someone we know who suffers with mental illness. “I would be honoured to run in their name,” he said. My signature joined hundreds of others to uplift those in my life that I care and pray for.
 
Thank you to all three speakers and to Lisa for organizing this special evening. Lisa holds “Evenings of Sharing” every month, each on a different theme. You can check them out at her website www.onethousandtrees.com.