“I have a notion that if you are going to be spiritually curious, you better not get cluttered up with too many material things.” ~ Mary Oliver.

There are some memories that never leave.  Although I  learned that each time you remember something, you are actually remembering the memory, not the original event. So that, just as if you make copies of copies, not the original, each copy will be a degraded reproduction, perhaps adding a flaw, making each subsequent replica less true to the original.  For me the memory of my father taking my brother and me up on deck on the S.S. Ascania, in the middle of the ocean on a dark moonless night to see a sky awash with stars, a milky way so milky you could taste the cream, is still flawless.  The sea navy blue and velvety, lapping at the side of the tall ship as it moved slowly through the ocean.  A night at the beginning of our excellent adventure, as our family migrated from the UK to the tropical island of Jamaica.

I often trace my appreciation of nature to that night, although it may have been nurtured earlier.  Before we moved to rural Jamaica, we lived in the city (Manchester), a city at the time clad in the black soot of industrial pollution; a city bathed in rain or clouds or fog for many days of the year.  But each summer my parents would pack up whichever trusty old vehicle we had with our camping gear, and off we would drive (usually overnight) to Wales, through the mountains, and over to a campsite by an estuary.  I remember days at the ‘seaside’ as we called it, emerging out of the freezing sea to be wrapped in a blanket, teeth chattering uncontrollably, as we were given hot soup to try to warm up from the inside!

Perhaps because they were brought up in cities, my parents were big believers in getting us outside, out in the fresh air (whatever the temperature and possibly precipitation), and would take us out on walks, to parks, into nature.  Once we moved to Jamaica, to the country, we had nature at our doorstep.  That transition from the sound of traffic in the night, to the sound of crickets, tree frogs, the blurping sound that accompanies nightfall and lets you know you’re not in England any more, helped us learn a new rhythm of life.  Observing how people lived off the land, close to the land, and moved in a way that conserved energy under a hot midday sun, helped us to adjust to a new, a ‘soon come’ pace of life.

Everyone that migrates to a country other than that of their birth understands the adjustment that is necessary.  Sometimes it is called culture shock, when the newcomer keeps trying to fit the new experiences into the categories of the old life.  I remember a couple coming from Canada to teach at our high school.  The husband came to teach Math, while the wife stayed home with their toddler son.  They didn’t last long.  I believe it was the lizards that convinced the wife that this was not the place for them.  We were not sorry to see him go.  He had already insulted our class by telling us that his toddler son had ‘more intelligence in his little finger’ than any of us. 

This week I was introduced to two people I have never heard of before.  Usually I like things to come in threes, but you get what you get! The first is a Pulitzer Prize writer who just died, Annie Dillard.  The reports of her life have sent me googling to find her works, for she lived a life of appreciation for nature, for simplicity, for spirituality.  She chose to live like Thoreau, away from the bustle of life.  How tempting is that in this crazy world? Although the thought of losing all of the conveniences, the instant items in our greedy lives might be challenging.

The other person I was fascinated by was a photographer – Platon.  Although I have probably seen many of his portraits on the cover of Time magazine (both Obamas, Colin Powell, and many more), I was so intrigued that I found and watched a documentary about his process.  He said several things that resonated with me.  His approach to people, whether celebrities or women suffering after brutal attacks in the Congo, was one of ‘…not judgment, but curiosity’.  He makes sure to get to know his subjects, finding that creating a trusting relationship between them is most important to helping them to reveal their true selves.  He shot Gaddafi (looking militant and intimidating) and Putin.  The story with Putin was interesting – he asked him which musicians he had listened to as he was growing up – the Beatles, was the answer. 

In addition to the celebrities, Platon travels to places to help to tell the story (as in the women of the Congo), to amplify a message, so that others may be impacted by the stories, to raise awareness.  Despite this streaming world in which we live, despite hearing the news and happenings around the globe as soon as they happen, it is perhaps this visual, in your face, approach that we need to get our attention.  Through his foundation, The People Portfolio, he uses portraits and in-depth interviews to “…encourage the general public, and those who hold power, to take action.”

Platon is, he said, ‘…building bridges of experience between people’.  He migrated from the place of his birth (Greece) to the UK when he was eight, about the same age as I was when we moved to Jamaica.  Like me he had to adjust to a new way of life, and became used to being called a ‘bloody foreigner’.  He was even beaten up, badly, as a teen, merely for looking like ‘a foreigner’ (we are aware of the rise of racism and bigotry that has become more overt here in the US as well as across Europe).  And yet it was this episode that helped him to develop empathy, to see life through the eyes of another.  This was prodded by the lady who was in the next bed to him in the ER, as he lay moaning and groaning and asking ‘why me?’.  ‘Why not you?’ she asked.

If there is one thing I would hope to do with my ‘one wild and precious life’ (another recent discovery, the amazing poet Mary Oliver), it is to help us to see others in a different light.  To stop and try to imagine the world as experienced by someone who looks, sounds, and lives differently from us, without judgment, but with curiosity.  Understanding that we all have so much more in common than we think. 

On this Friday morning, as thunder rolls around the heavens, I am thankful for the journey that planted me in a place so unlike the place of my birth.  I am thankful for parents that showed me the beauty of the universe, and all of its contents.  I am appreciative of all of the amenities of my life, and hope that we can figure out a better way to live, to preserve this beautiful planet for many generations to follow.

Have a wonderful weekend, Family!

One Love!

Namaste.