by susantara | Apr 6, 2016 | Spiritual Journey |
Sometimes the Universe seems to conspire to ensure that certain works are accomplished or (in my case) images are captured. You can call it intuition, inspiration, or various other names. It’s the voice that might literally wake you up so you can be in the right place at the right time and sometimes employs unwitting accomplices.
That happened to me yesterday morning, after staying up late doing research. At 6:00 a.m., my phone rang. It was the director of a private school calling to ask if I could fill in for the day. I had to decline because I had promised to care for my granddaughter for a few hours. After taking the call, I realized I wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep, although I closed my eyes to try. But something about the misty morning light compelled me to get out of bed, despite not feeling as rested as I wanted to be.
It had been a while since I’d photographed a river sunrise, mainly because of my late night work habits. It was a shocking 7° (F) outside and a morning when I’d prefer to stay indoors. But something wonderful was about to happen. I could feel it and (as I’ve said before) have learned to trust that feeling. So I put on my warm clothes, coat, and shoes and went to the chilly river’s edge to photograph the sunrise, which looked rather like a painting.
If there is a way to predict the “wow” value of sunrises and sunsets, I have yet to discover it. But the pink-orange mist was intriguing, so I stayed outside to see how it would develop.
As the sun began to climb the trees, the way it played with the trees and appeared to stretch their branches with golden light was phenomenal. In my four years of photographing sunrises on the river, I’d never witnessed that particular effect so intensely.
It made me think of Moses and the burning bush – for the trees were “on fire” with brilliant light but not consumed. I hoped I could capture it exactly as it appeared so as to express what drew me to it and stopped me in my tracks – because when a sight grabs you like that, there must be some kind of spiritual nugget in it.
I selected the image below to share online because the way the various elements came together was most pleasing to me. The deciding factor was the relationship between the branches stretched by sunlight in the center of the image and the branches across the river in the lower right corner that seemed to reach out to them. That spoke to me.
After I shared the image, people reported being drawn to different elements of it and seeing certain shapes and symbols in the sunlit trees. I’m fascinated by how we gravitate to certain images or elements and discover meaning or satisfaction in them. When we gravitate toward an image, it’s an invitation to go deeper. We can consider what calls us to it. What is our connection to it? What does it stir in us? What longing does it satisfy? What does it reflect that is alive in us?
As I contemplated the above image, the words that arose from it were: Source it higher. Fuel your life from a higher source. Gas station and food metaphors came to mind. Tapping into ordinary consciousness is like filling up with regular gas or fast food that makes you feel jittery. But there are higher quality options, like premium gas or farm-to-table, organic meals containing a rainbow of nutrients that leave you feeling truly nourished and energized. A beautiful soul who adopted the name Peace Pilgrim said, “Junk thoughts can destroy you even more quickly than junk food.” That is the idea I’m trying to convey.
My infant granddaughter, Ava, arrived soon after I photographed the sunrise. She napped a few times during the course of our time together. She fell asleep in my arms, when I swayed gently with her, and when I lay her on my bent legs so we could face each other. As she rested in her human cradle, I found myself feeling bad about conditions in her life. But then I heard, “Source it higher” and recalled the luminous image of the sunrise trees – and lifted into a state of trust. I thought of how many challenging circumstances I’ve lived through and realized that my own life experience will help me to trust in her strength and guide her to discover her own strength and resilience. It seemed the spectacular sunrise was the source of the energy I was giving Ava – the energy she was feeding on, even as she slept.
“Source it higher,” backed by the sunrise image, has quickly become my new mantra that helps to dispel worry and fear. It reminds me to unplug myself from a lower source of energy and tap into a higher, more luminous source. Without a mother or grandmother in my life anymore, it seems to be up to me to hold the faith and nurture subsequent generations. Connecting with that light eases my worries and allows me to trust what is and what is in the process of becoming.
© 2016 Susan Meyer. All rights reserved. To use any or all of this blog post, include this exactly: Susan Meyer (SusanTaraMeyer.com) is a photographer, writer, clutter coach, feng shui consultant, and mindfulness mentor whose work is infused with a deep interest in the nature of mind and appreciation of the natural world. She lives on the Hudson River in Upstate New York.
by susantara | Jun 16, 2015 | Mindfulness |
Oh, the bliss of being out here on the river during late sunset! Come float with me.
It’s getting dark. The colors in the sky are quite vivid, and I’m floating in my kayak. The birds are singing their goodnight songs, the frogs are croaking, and I’m feeling incredibly light. There is an unidentified, sweet, floral fragrance in the air, and so far I’ve seen two beavers swim by me. Such peace! I breathe slowly and deeply.
I have not a care in the world. Everything is right with my world. Everything is hush. All personal concerns are so far away when I’m out here floating. They can’t reach me and have no pull on me. I smile and fill with joy.
The colors deepen from moment to moment. Being under this sky is like watching an enormous Polaroid picture developing.
I worked an 11-hour day today and have so much to do in the next eight days that it makes my head spin when I think about it. But not right now. Now is all just peace. I feel so light. I’m dictating into my journal on my phone so I can remember that this state of being exists. It’s one big ahhhhhh.
The first light I see is a plane making its way across the sky as its reflection sails across the water, almost like the flight of a mosquito because of the gentle ripples on the surface of the water bouncing it around.
This is the real me. The unconditioned stillness. I recall when I felt grief deep down in my bones. Now I feel peace and joy just as deep. A line from Kahlil Gibran’s “On Joy and Sorrow” from The Prophet goes through my mind: “The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.” It’s not an unbridled, frenetic joy but a balanced, full-bodied joy steeped in tranquility. When you’ve been down as low as I’ve been recently, it’s such a blessing to feel this way. You really appreciate it.
I perceive a lengthy decrescendo of birdsong. Fewer birds are singing now.
I observe two pinpoints of light in the sky, which I determine (after several minutes) to be celestial bodies, perhaps Venus and Jupiter. One is larger and brighter, and the other is tinier, fainter, and higher above the horizon. I could have sworn they were airplanes. It’s so hard to tell what’s moving and what’s stationary out here. I’m drifting on the water, the clouds are floating in the sky, and I can’t tell if the pinpoints of light are moving or if everything around them is.
The sky grows dimmer, and the air becomes cooler. It feels wild to be out on this great river alone with all these sounds in the stillness under the darkening sky. I feel so alive, even tingling. Surely, this spacious serenity is my more natural, open state. It feels like being Home.
Star light, star bright,
First star I see tonight,
I wish I may, I wish I might,
Have this wish I wish tonight.
I wonder: What does my heart wish for? To follow love, not fear, and to experience right now what it would be like to let that energy flow like this river. Imagining this makes my whole body smile. Makes me feel vibrant and liberated.
I look in the direction of the swamp – where the frogs are croaking in the distance – and notice what at first glance appears to be car lights coming down the road. But they’re not. The fireflies have come out! I’ve been waiting to see them flashing their light in the darkness, looking for love. The light show has begun. Now there are no birds singing at all. The sky is almost completely dark. There will be no moon tonight.
The first few stars are twinkling in the sky, the fireflies are flashing below, and all the light is reflected on the water like a mirror. Some fireflies are near the ground, and some are way up at the very tops of the trees.
The sight I’m most drawn to (besides the light of the fireflies) is the rippling light on the water, the reflection of the last remaining light in the sky. Light and darkness dance on the surface of the water in a wavy pattern.
I barely can make out a beaver swimming in front of me. I can only tell by the interplay of light and shadows moving silently on the surface of the water. If I were to start paddling, the beaver would slap its tail on the water, adding a percussive touch – like a kettledrum – to the swamp symphony.
Now there’s almost no light whatsoever, so I decide to head back to the dock. This is such a different state of consciousness than the gravity of being on land.
But there is grace upon returning home, for the light of hundreds of fireflies flashes in the back yard in a spectacular light show. It looks magical, like the light of hundreds of fairies – and fills me with delight.
I hope you can feel it, too.
© Susan Meyer and River Bliss Photography, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material, including all text and photos, without express and written permission from this website’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Susan Meyer and River Bliss Photography (susantarameyer.com) with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
by susantara | Aug 29, 2014 | Engaging the Magic |
So, I ended my last blog post by saying that I planned to have two more adventures before August is over. I didn’t know what they would be but felt they would involve rocks and water. And it turned out my next adventure involved LOTS of rocks and water! How it manifested was truly amazing. Sometimes I am astonished by the ways of the universe and need to write in order to remember that gifts can arise completely expected out of the blue!
My husband and I had been talking about him taking a couple days off from his summer job so we could go to the ocean. We were thinking we’d go to Rhode Island like we did last year and probably get a hotel room for a night so we could have two beach days. It was the day before we had planned to go away, and he still hadn’t requested the time off. And I hadn’t looked into making a hotel reservation because I wasn’t sure we’d actually go ahead with it. Last year we went on the spur of the moment during early August when there weren’t as many things clamoring for my attention as there are a week before a new school year begins. Now it was the end of summer, I hadn’t had a paycheck since June, and my son needed running shoes for cross country, among other expenses. Perhaps it would be better to save money by staying home.
But I really wanted to get to the ocean.
I told my son I’d take him to get running shoes that afternoon, and on the way to pick him up, I received the most exciting news that felt like an answer to a prayer! My husband was at his summer job, and his boss asked him if he wanted to take a break and help himself to some food. Although he was hungry, he wasn’t interested in what was offered and decided to stay put. He then asked his boss for a couple days off so we could go to the ocean and explained that we don’t have any specific plans but would figure out something, as we did last year. Instantly, a friend of mine pulled up on her bike and talked with my husband’s boss. She and my husband recognized each other and began talking. He told her we were planning to go to Rhode Island the following day and had to make plans for a place to stay. It turns out she and her family rented a big beach house for the month that would be vacant for the exact same days that we wanted to be in Rhode Island. Next thing I knew, I received a text from my friend saying that we had a place to stay on Great Island in Narragansett! I couldn’t believe it!
That is what I call “engaging the magic.” Had my husband taken a break to get food, he wouldn’t have crossed paths with my friend, and the invitation wouldn’t have manifested. How perfect is that?
We were so excited that we left a few hours after he got home from work and arrived at our destination at 12:30 a.m. Even though it was dark outside, I could feel the salty air as we drove along and were surrounded almost entirely by water. I felt like Goldilocks exploring the house to decide which bed I liked best – and fell asleep promptly!
Needless to say, we had the best time in Narragansett. The house was incredible. The location was unbelievable. The weather was perfect. I took more than 700 pictures.
We spent three afternoons balancing rocks on the beach at Scarborough Beach, Black Point, Point Judith, and other locations. I will write about that in a separate post.
While packing up after our first afternoon on Scarborough Beach, we ran into an older couple – both native Rhode Islanders. The woman was walking along picking up sponges that had been deposited on the beach by high tide, and she taught me what to look for and how to dry them so they can be used for painting. This was another gift because I love to paint with sponges!
The next morning, I got up at 5:30 a.m. and headed to Point Judith to catch a glorious sunrise.
Later, we went out for breakfast and then stopped into a store owned by a couple of rock balancers. Before we left, I noticed sand dollars in the display case and asked the man if he sells them. Sand dollars always remind me of my grandfather, who died when I was 17. He wintered in Florida and brought me back a sand dollar along with a story about sand dollars. The store owner replied that he doesn’t sell them, but one day a man came along and gave him a bunch. My husband took notice and exclaimed that he saw a big bucket of sand dollars from the balcony where we ate breakfast overlooking the seaport. We found the bucket, and a fisherman walking by said we could have as many as we wanted because they’d been sitting there for a month. So I added sand dollars to my collection of ocean treasures and gifts from the universe.
After another afternoon balancing rocks on a beach adjacent to Point Judith Lighthouse, we decided to cook up a meal of vegetables (that we brought from our own garden) and fresh sea scallops. When we stopped at a seafood market along the harbor, we happened to be the lucky customers and received fresh scallops and swordfish for free! It was another matter of perfect timing – showing up on the right day at the right time. And the meal was delicious! We savored it on the upstairs deck while watching the sun set.
The next morning, I woke up at 5:30 again and headed back to Point Judith for another pastel dream of a sunrise.
Then I retreated to a quiet spot on the rocks at Camp Cronin for some simple, solitary, sunrise rock balancing. I can’t remember ever feeling more in my element!
We spent our last afternoon (Wednesday) in Narragansett at Camp Cronin/Point Judith Lighthouse. The older couple we met on the beach two days prior had told us there would be really big waves on Wednesday because of a hurricane somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean, and this was the case. The wind made rock balancing challenging, and I opted to sit on the rocks near where I had balanced rocks that morning and appreciate it with all my senses, for we would have to return home soon.
If my husband were writing, his account would differ from mine, for we did a fair amount of exploring on our own. He engaged with the locals more than I did – even when he balanced rocks. It was easy to find our way around, and of course we also enjoyed our time together. The trip was magical from start to finish, and we were filled to the brim with gratitude. It’s so exciting to find new places to love and to be so in the flow! I returned home inspired deeply by people’s generosity and the goodness that can transpire when you open up and engage with life.
The photographs in this blog (except for those attributed to other owners) and in my Flickr photostream are available for purchase as prints or cards through my Etsy shop by selecting a “custom print” in whatever size you prefer and indicating either the name of the print or the blog post and order in which it appears.
© Susan Meyer and River Bliss Photography, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material, including all text and photos, without express and written permission from this website’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Susan Meyer and River Bliss Photography (susantarameyer.com) with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
by susantara | Apr 14, 2014 | Death, Dying, & Birth |
This evening, I drove home from my parents’ house with their health situations on my mind. My mom spent a week in the hospital and was discharged a few days ago. She is home recovering from the latest onslaught in her struggle with advanced stage cancer. Today my dad experienced a health scare that sent him to Urgent Care but fortunately did not result in hospitalization. Life is quite intense at this time, and as I drove home I contemplated what I can do to help my parents, who are not good about asking for or accepting help.
Then I noticed the moon rising in the baby blue sky just above mustard toned willow trees. The sight was absolutely breathtaking. In my rear view mirror, I saw the golden-tangerine glow of the large, low sun sinking behind a patch of trees. I was so moved by the beauty surrounding me as the sun and moon simultaneously illuminated the sky with contrasting color and light. It seemed as though the setting sun was casting a golden glow against the eastern sky where the moon was rising, saturating the blue of the sky and the golden-yellow of the willows even more. It was the magic moment of the day, and I was caught in between the sun and the moon, completely in awe.
Finally, I couldn’t take it any longer. I had to stop and photograph the landscape. I pulled over in front of a farm and pointed my camera to the west to capture this image
then turned around to shoot the soft tones of the moonrise.
I wish I could have captured the moon hovering just above a willow tree. But perhaps you can use your imagination.
My heart overflowed with joy, gratitude, and awe. I arrived home with tears in my eyes for the beauty of this world we inhabit, despite all the suffering.
The past year, since my dad’s brush with death, has been a rough one. And now he is caring for my mom. My parents are such kind, loving people who don’t want to inconvenience anyone or cause any suffering. They don’t want to burden their children with their health issues. While I care for and love my parents deeply and feel anguished by their suffering, I wish they could know there is another side to all this that I am in touch with every day – as a result of all this – and that gives me strength. I wish they could realize that I am being pushed to grow in the most amazing ways and am being liberated from many ways in which I used to bring suffering upon myself. I am learning that it is possible to grieve personal losses while giving thanks for spiritual blessings and keeping a joyful heart.
Lately, I have been experiencing life on two different dimensions, as if I am walking with each foot in a different world. On the personal level, there is great sadness that my mom’s life has taken this cruel, abrupt turn. On the spiritual level, I realize that everything is unfolding as part of a greater plan and that those we love never leave us. That spiritual gifts sometimes come disguised as great challenges.
Writing about being aware (during her near-death experience) of the sense of urgency her brother felt about getting to the hospital in time to say goodbye, author Anita Moorjani explained:
“I recall knowing that I didn’t want my physical body to be dead before he arrived. I was aware of how that would make him feel, and I didn’t want him to go through that. But yet again, as my affection for my brother started to take over and I was becoming overwhelmed with not wanting him to experience the pain of his little sister dying, I found myself being simultaneously drawn away. Each time my emotions took over the situation, I discovered myself starting to expand again, and I felt a release from all attachment. Once more, I was surrounded by the reassuring feeling of a greater tapestry unfolding, where everything was exactly as it should be in the grand scheme of things.” (Dying to Be Me, p. 64)
This is exactly what I have been experiencing as I accompany my parents through this chapter with a foot in each world. When I feel myself fixating on the level of personality and feeling deep sadness for their suffering and our personal losses, I am pulled into an expanded awareness in which I realize there is so much more to the picture than we can perceive through these dense bodies we inhabit. And I feel so much love coming through. One of my mom’s friends told me that many people are praying for my family’s peace and comfort, and I wonder if I am experiencing the power of their prayers.
I wish I could bottle this awareness and give it to my parents and anyone else who is suffering. The closest I can come is sharing the images that transport me and expand my awareness and the feelings and words attached to them (although words are often insufficient), hoping that some of the awe, awareness, and healing energy will come through.
© Susan Meyer and River Bliss Photography, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material, including all text and photos, without express and written permission from this website’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Susan Meyer and River Bliss Photography (www.susantarameyer.com) with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
