Sunday, January 25, 2009

Seeking integration

This morning I have finished Cynthia Bourgeault's seminal book, The Wisdom Jesus, which ends with a chapter that examines the Eucharist from a wisdom perspective. In that chapter, she tells of her first accidental experience of communion: she was in her 20's, had gone to a Catholic church to hear a London boys choir, and, not having paid much attention to the stream of language surrounding the music, suddenly found herself being ushered forward to the communion rail.

Despite her lack of preparation or even understanding of the event, she nonetheless experienced the act as a direct encounter with Jesus, and still sees that it always contains within it that potential.

After finishing my reading, I meditated as usual, then came to my computer to check email and blog, and I found myself explaining that although my husband sees me primarily as a writer, I still prefer photography because it has been for me a more direct experience of the divine. Perhaps because I am less trained in photography, and because it tends to be more of a response to a stimulus than a conscious effort on my part, it often surprises -- and feeds -- me.

Writing, on the other hand, is something I have been trained to do, have done for a living, and do all too easily. Words spill out too readily for me, and frequently in established patterns with seductive rhythms that can sometimes keep me from writing thoughtfully and honestly. In fact, one of the reasons I began my poetry blog is to force me to choose my words more carefully; it's an attempt to make my writing more centered and less facile.

And now that I am writing this, I see that the difference between writing and photography, for me, is not dissimilar from the difference between Eucharist and "church."

Communion, for me, is like photography; a way of tapping into Spirit. And though, in church, there is language around communion, to me it is pure poetry and -- perhaps more importantly -- a constant, predictable flow of words enriched by centuries of use in communities around the world. But "church," with its messy mix of politics, power, money, hidden agendas, factions, asumptions, pre-conceived notions, pat responses ... I find it very difficult to be in that space. Precisely because I have been trained in church, have done it for a living, have been "good" at it, successful at it, because I know how it works and how to use its language and patterns to appear religious without really tapping into the heart of faith.

So why this image? I think because it captures the tension I'm feeling right now between the call to be and do what I was, and was good at -- to return to the land where my gifts and experience are clear and have clear use and value -- and the longing to stay in this quiet thoughtful resting space that has grown so comfortable these last few years. The image is about integration, an attempt to find new ways to connect my past self -- a quilter, a teacher of quilting -- with my current self, the photographer. There are many layers of self and life here, interiors and exteriors, sea and forest, sunrises and sunsets. And it contains, at its heart, an image of spirit, which, whatever the surface may appear to be, must be integral to whatever new life is emerging here, whatever path comes next.

7 comments:

Gberger said...

That quilt is so beautiful that, at first glance, I thought it was a photo of an open-work metal sculpure in a park. I hope you see that as a compliment; it's meant that way.
You TAUGHT quilting? When? Where?

Diane Walker said...

Thanks -- I totally took that as a compliment! It's always fun to see how other people view the work... And I taught quilting at the League of New Hampshire Crafts, in Hanover, NH, in the late 70's and early 80's.

Unknown said...

Is it a quilt? I can't quite tell, and I also (like Karen) mean that as a compliment...I look through that image and am left wondering about it and wanting to look again. I will surely ponder it later on today.

I love what you have written, in prose, about integration. I think sometimes that the sensory experiences of putting words to paper, image to sight, relating words to images, images to words, are such sacramental signs that integration is occurring. The mystery of the sacrament!

In my imagination there is a poem to accompany that image, or perhaps there already is one? Thank you for your sharing!

Diane Walker said...

I actually did two images at the same time, and posted the other one (with a poem) on the poetry blog (see link on left of this blog). The poem was written later in the day, after having been disturbed by a sermon that seemed to be pushing me even further into writing/church mode (as opposed to photographing/eucharist mode). It seems to have something to do with the fire, the crucible you have to go through, the burning away of the extraneous, to get to integration on the other side...

Anonymous said...

I'm assuming you used the "Storm at Sea" pattern on purpose? (One of my favorites, though I've never made it..yet)

I'm confused, are you hearing a new calling or wanting to hear one or NOT wanting to, or...?

Either way, whatever way, may you be blessed with peace.

Diane Walker said...

Yes, Storm at Sea on purpose. And, yes, I'm confused too! Or perhaps adrift would be a better word?

Barbara said...

This photo, and the object of the photo, is beautiful on many levels. I did not delve too deeply today into your post, forgive me - time as usual is the thief. However, I noticed your struggle with merging your past self with your present self, and am very familiar with it. Did you know, just for your information, that spoonflower.com is now offering fabric from your designs? It is a gift to an artist caught between the transendence of image chasing and the creation of image making.
Peace, from another pilgrim on the path.