In the world of the living, the topic about dying is the most eluded subject of conversation. The word death could easily spoil a rather fun-filled evening of socializing. We are so huddled up in our own comfort zones that we decline to talk about it. Is it because of its morbid connotation? Or are we simply in denial?
Life is sweet. We love it too much, we forget that we are just living in borrowed time. We can control how we live and choose a lifestyle that suits us, but we cannot deny the fact that we are all just passing through. Sooner or later, the clock of life will stop ticking and death will come knocking at the door.
In the sleepy barrio of San Miguel, nothing really spectacular ever happened that was capable of putting it on the world map. If not for my grandparents who lived in the barrio and the chapel where I found my childhood superhero, the place would have nothing else that could entice me.
When I was about six, my father took me to San Miguel to stay a week with my grandparents. They were thrilled to have me.
My grandmother was tender and tolerant. She was the one who would lift the restrictions imposed on me by my parents. I loved her for that, giving me the chance to release all the energies of a restless boy. She was the best.
My grandfather, on the other hand, was a man of few words but
Amid disturbing world news that highlights the never-ending hostilities targeting Israel, one would think that it would be complete madness, if not suicidal, to travel to such a volatile place. And yet, I found myself in Milan International Airport, staring at an electronic sign with its colorful pixels glaring back at me, spelling out the Air Alitalia Flight departing for Tel Aviv. Along with my wife, I would soon board the aircraft, together with the other pilgrims from St. Thomas More Church. We were to fly to The Holy Land.
Three weeks earlier, there was a great battle going on in my head. As much as I wanted to visit The Holy Land, I was also dreadfully aware of the potential danger that could ignite at any time along the way. My wife had to persuade me to join the pilgrimage. Her persistence and the irresistible opportunity to photograph the biblical and historical places were instrumental in somewhat overpowering my reservations about the trip.
As we waited for the shuttle bus that would take us to the tarmac, the fear once again managed to creep into my veins. It was corroding my nervous system. The “what If?” revived the old nagging thoughts. Maybe there is a terrorist on board? A suicide bomber perhaps? What about being blown up in the sky? Whoa!! The self-induced paranoia was choking me. I needed something to divert my thoughts. I took some candid shots of our group who seemed undeterred by what was happening in the Middle East. Thanks to my camera, it calmed me down. Before I knew it, we were airborne and there was no turning back. I heard myself praying, “Dear God, I know that The Holy Land has been photographed countless times by many talented photographers. What I will be shooting are just repetitions of their work, but if there is something you want me to shoot, lead me to it and please deliver me back home safely so I can share it too. Amen.”
As I looked out the plane’s window, the clouds below were like huge formations of fluffy cotton. I was marvelling at their beauty when suddenly something strange caught my eye. Out of nowhere, a glint of colors appeared then magically transformed into a circular rainbow. The circle of colors was captivating but when the shadow of our aircraft mysteriously revealed itself inside it, I was mystified. My heart started pounding heavily as I asked myself, “Is this an omen? Is God telling me something?” I sensed something very special was happening. The circular rainbow enclosing the airplane’s shadow was like God’s way of saying that His angels were escorting our flight. The very thought of it reassured me and dispelled all of my fears. The ghostly sign lasted approximately six seconds, but in that brief duration, I was able to quickly snap a picture of it before it drifted away in rays of light. The mystical experience left me wondering if there was an underlying message somehow connected to the unforeseen events of my life.
“Blessed are those who come.” That was the heading of the brochure that was provided by the travel agency. It does feel that way when one’s foot touches the Holy Ground. Walking along the path of our Lord’s footsteps was spiritually uplifting. Any Christian would feel the presence of Jesus in every step of the way. The journey to The Holy Land was like a homecoming. I grew up knowing about Nazareth as if it was my hometown. The city did not appear exactly the way Hollywood portrayed it in movies, but just like other biblical places in the region, it made me feel welcome. From Bethlehem where Jesus was born to the hilltop of Golgotha where He was crucified, the pilgrimage re-defined my Christian faith. I gained a deeper understanding of Jesus. And for the first time, I felt the pain of Mary, the mother who witnessed the rejection, humiliation and torture of her Son, who died for our sins.
The first five days of the Seven-Day tour of Israel earned me hundreds of beautiful images of The Holy Land. From those shots, I could easily merge photojournalism and travel photography to create a good slide show presentation of the pilgrimage. But, I still felt empty. Something was missing in the shots.
On the sixth day, towards the evening, God filled the void. Before me was the most compelling picture of all. At the courtyard of the Holy Sepulcher Church, I shot the perfect photographic interpretation of a verse in the Gospel of Matthew. “Let your light shine before men in such a way that they may see your good works and glorify your Father who is in heaven.” It was the collective silhouette of my fellow pilgrims that was highlighted by the bright radiating light in the background.
In the afternoon of the final day, the tour guide took our group back to Jerusalem for personal free time. The majority of the group took my wife to explore the souvenir shops, while I wandered around on my own, taking more photos. And just when I thought I had shot enough, I saw two cute little Jewish schoolgirls walking together from a distance. In a game of catch-me-if-you-can, the bubbly one in the red dress sprinted ahead of the other girl. At this point, my reflex took charge and nailed the flow of her motion in three digital shots. It was the second frame that best captured the expression and running action of the little girl. Her happy innocent face was a mirrored contrast to the hostilities between her people and the neighboring countries. Why can’t there be a lasting peace in this land? I paused for a moment, thinking of an answer when in my subconscious I heard the words of Jesus, “Let the children come to me, and do not stop them; for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” This verse from Mark's Gospel summed up what is required from us in order to become the perfect followers of Christ. If we could only have the nature of a child, then hatred and vengeance would have no place among nations. Our faith in God would be unquestioning, unwavering and in full surrender. Then it occurred to me that the photo of the little girl was the shot. It was the shot I prayed for. God answered and led me to it. Unlike the massive walls of Jerusalem, God’s message has neither form nor shape, but it took the face of a child to make it clear and visible.
By the time we left Israel, I had more than three thousand digital images to take home, but only three of them can sum up the spiritual maturity that I gained from the pilgrimage. The photos of the plane's shadow in the rainbow, the pilgrims, and the little girl are the key images that unlocked the door to the wonderful gift of seeing. The images widened the perspective of the way I see things around me. While my art in photography found a new angle to focus on, I discovered a new color of the rainbow. And that is the color of God’s unconditional love for me and the rest of the world.
Now, 6 years later, I produced God's Word, a 5-minute video presentation summarizing my spiritual journey in finding God's purpose for me - spreading the Word through the art of photography.
Less or more? These are the two opposing words that often cloud our thoughts when caught between greed and need.
More is the end of the scale that can outweigh logic, when our selfish motives fail to recognize the thin line that separates excess from enough. How much is more? How little is less? We all know the answers but we allow our wisdom to be absorbed by consumerism and other self-serving reasons. We are trapped by the lure of pointless acquisition and its promise of false happiness. And in the process, we get disconnected from other more important issues in our lives, leaving our priorities floating aimlessly up in the air. Interestingly, a classic example is our feet. We are born with a pair. One is left and the other is right. How many shoes can they wear, each time they take us out for a walk? Common sense tells us that two is the norm. But there is a woman in Asia whose outlandish taste for luxury re-defined the word "excess" with a super extravagant twist. She shocked the whole world with her nearly three thousand pairs of shoes that can confuse even the longest centipede.
Have we forgotten to be satisfied? We need to be reminded every now and then, that it is still humanly possible to stay with the basics and be content with what we have. We need to learn the art of contentment.
The art of contentment? Is there such an art? Yes, surprisingly, there is. A family of robins that were nested on a plum tree in my backyard last summer gave me a crash course on the subject. It was a case of Mother Nature, presenting an amazing show-and-tell. The robins' interesting behaviour had me riveted for hours, prompting me to take notes in the three days that I observed their daily routine. The strings of movements were well timed and swift. Every morning, the parent robins would take turns flying out of the nest to gather worms and insects for their young while the other stayed on guard to protect the babies. Food would arrive one beak-full at time, no more and no less than what was needed for consumption. The widely opened little beaks of the baby robins receiving the ration, guaranteed that every piece was swallowed in. Their easy way of life was just as simple as the nest, which was made of grass and twigs that perfectly conformed to the specifications of the architect Mother Nature. The design was simple but it clearly met the needs of the birds. And that easily explained why there were no visible attempts from the robins to modify it. Unlike most humans who are hardly satisfied, birds have no use for huge and fancy homes. They just wanted a simple and happy life. Their mastery of being content is highly admirable and a good lesson to all of us.
The photo of the mother robin feeding her babies is one of the shots I took during the watch-and-learn session with the masters of the art. It also echoes a verse from the gospel of Matthew which reads: “Look at the birds: they do not plant seeds, gather a harvest and put it in barns; yet your Father in heaven takes care of them!”
If we can only emulate at least eighty percent of the robins’ less demanding life, then, we can certainly discard many of life’s unnecessary complications and live a happier life.
It has been said that laughter is the best medicine. Maybe so, to those who laugh? But what about if you are the one being laughed at? Would you still agree?
One late afternoon, at home in our kitchen, I was preparing the ingredients for the beef stew which I planned to cook for dinner. After slicing the red bell pepper in two, my eyes were drawn to the seeds that were so remarkably undisturbed. They remained neatly clustered on its core that I felt obliged to respect its formation. So I carefully worked the knife around them. To my surprise, the two halves of the red bell pepper revealed the unexpected. They appeared to be like two faces laughing together. As if they were making fun of me and laughing at me. And the funny thing was, I started laughing too. It seemed like all the three of us were laughing about something we did not know anything about. But there is one thing I know for sure that these two clowns did not know. It was the most hilarious and unique experience I ever had in the kitchen.
It is quite amazing how an ordinary red bell pepper would turn into laughing faces. In retrospect, the laughing peppers that I accidentally created were in fact good eye-openers. They made me realize that we all need to insert a little humour in our sometimes stressful lives. It is a must. We all know how to laugh. So why not laugh the stress away? It is a lot better than crying and it is the healthiest way to stay young. At least at heart.
In this day and age, we know of many different ways to amuse ourselves. TV Shows are the most common and shopping would probably rank second, followed by exotic travels. What about the old fashioned and no cost humorous conversation with families and friends? Did anybody count that in?
In the Holy Scripture, nothing is mentioned about Jesus laughing. Does that mean that he didn’t? I would like to believe that he did. He was just as human as anyone of us. He must have laughed at some of the jokes of his disciples. Or maybe he cracked a joke himself just to show his human side. Were the laughing peppers, one of God’s ways to test my humour? Well, if it was a test, I must have passed it in flying colours, because today the photo of the laughing peppers can still put a smile on my face.
Some have asked how I did it. How did I make them laugh and what was the trick that I used. I honestly wish, I could claim any credit for it, but these happy peppers just laughed freely on their own. Believe it or not, I have tried many times to re-create them with other peppers that I sliced, but to this day, The Laughing Peppers’ jolly expression remains irreplaceable.
The image of The Laughing Peppers is one of my most treasured shots and the most talked-about photo in my portfolio. It has been recognized by photo judges for its unique artistic expression; and with its contagious laugh, it has also won the smiles and laughter of the many that have seen it.
Life is short. Make the most out of it. Be happy and laugh while you still can.
