How do we live out of our most authentic selves? The self that Thomas Merton described as the True Self, the one that was created by God and dwells in God. He said it is like a wave in the ocean of God, or a flame in God’s fire. We are distinct from God, but also a part of the sacred presence in the world.
We live in challenging times. Of course, I often think that life itself is challenging whenever you live it. But these times we live with so many choices and possibilities it can be paralyzing. At some point we need enough silence and stillness to really know who and whose we are so that we can also know where we stand in the world. What are the things that matter most in the world to me? When everything else is stripped away, what is the essence of who I am? Can I even recognize the voice of my own truest and deepest self as distinct from the cacophony of voices demanding that I buy more and do more?
For the photography class I took this spring, one of our assignments was a self-portrait. One was to be with us in it, the other without us but still expressing something of who we are. I found this assignment challenging. I do have a strong sense of who I am in the world, but how to express that in an image?
The image without me in it was a bit easier to create:
This is my prayer corner in our living room. The desk to the right is an antique that has been in my father’s family for probably two hundred years. It has journeyed from Latvia to Vienna to New York City to Sacramento to Woodland to San Francisco to Berkeley and finally rests here in Seattle. As long as I have had it it has functioned as an altar space for me, the top portion of the desk is a long space where I keep photos, images, symbols that are meaningful for me in a given time. The photo of my mother and I has been sitting there for nearly four years since she died. Photos of Duke and the urn with his ashes have dwelled there since last August when he died suddenly. The other symbols shift depending on what is happening within me.
Inside the desk I keep my journal and any books I am currently reading. The drawers hold old journals and pieces of art I don’t have room to display.
The chair is fairly new and reclines back. When I am sitting there Tune likes to jump up onto my lap and lay across me as I sit in prayer. Sometimes my prayer is simply beholding her as a creation of God and great gift in my life. When I am not sitting there it is still one of her favorite places. The windows look out onto our neighborhood, we have lovely cherry trees surrounding our building and in April they form a pink spectacle.
I have spent many hours in this space and for me it represents my commitment to silence and solitude and a life grounded in prayer. The time here helps me to see holiness in the whole of my life.
The self-portrait with me in it was harder to create. I like being behind the camera rather than in front of it. My teacher remarked on my photos that I capure a sense of intimacy with my subjects, I liked that evaluation of my style. I think there is an intimacy to a person’s eyes. How often do we linger in a gaze, meeting the other person’s eyes with our own? It takes time to gaze at someone with love, it is not something we can rush through in the busyness of our day.
A couple of weeks ago I had another dream about finding a hidden room. In it I open a door and discover a large room with a big walnut dining table and chairs around it set for a meal I am going to serve to friends. The friends gather around, we drink red wine and everyone has brought a quote from one of the mystics to share.
I love dreams like this one. I have had dreams of hidden rooms before and for me they signal an internal spaciousness and being on the verge of new discoveries. This dream speaks to me on many levels, one of which is about the way I experience a true sense of Communion when breaking bread with others.
Since January I have been experimenting with an even more contemplative and creative way of life, one which has a lot more space for writing and art, the work I love most in the world. After a few months of some internal wrestling with my own demons around money and what a successful life looks like, I find myself in a place of great inner peace and joyfulness. I recognize that these last few months I have felt closer to who I really am than ever before. I feel as though I have just arrived at a great banquet and there is a feast being prepared. This is where I stand.
-Christine Valters Paintner @ Abbey of the Arts
11 Responses
Such great comments!
Me, I was thinking of you when I took the photos because of your avatar which is so striking. A nude photo would be an intriguing way to go, especially if I were able to crop in like I did with the eyes, I may have to try that, sounds very freeing actually. And as you say, claiming your true identity is transformative.
Thank you Lucy!
Pam, thanks so much for sharing what the photos evoke in you, your words are very eloquent.
Thanks Songbird, yes our truest deepest selves are also selves in relationship to others. One of the most powerful insights I had was realizing how living in this way makes me an even better wife, friend, etc.
Thanks Lorna! :-)
GREAT and clever pictures of who you are. This post made me think too : ) that’s always good!
Christine,
As I grapple with these questions and how they play out not only in the world but in relationship, I deeply appreciate your post.
Christine,
Both these pictures draw one in to wonder more about the person who is invisibly sitting in the chair or whose eye is looking through that keyhole. It is like you can see the person in only a glimpse…. but sometimes a glimpse gives more of what is essential than the whole image. They do remind me of your flower pictures, close up and personal. There is something very evocative about an empty chair. Great poems could come out of such images.
Thanks,
Pam
lovely post, christine. i cheer with you as you are able to say “i have felt closer to who i really am than ever before…this is where i stand.” so beautiful, so brave and delightful!
Somehow it reminds me of a photo I took of Willow our now twelve-year-old greyhound shortly after we adopted her – the strength of the light and only the hint of form.
I too love eyes – but I suppose that would be a given…the eye that I use for my avatar is my own taken with a lens I made – I rather like it…self-portraits are hard – I’ve done nude ones and somehow that helps – it moves away from objective and into the subjective I think…I don’t know how you feel about nudes but I find them beautiful and very evocative of the deepest parts of emotion – perhaps because I like the vulnerability of a good nude subject.
I know the feeling “I have felt closer to who I really am than ever before. I feel as though I have just arrived at a great banquet and there is a feast being prepared. This is where I stand.” To be able to say I am an artist is something that has occurred only in the past six months but now I can claim it and it changes so much.
Thanks Tess, it is a most peaceful corner (except on mornings like today when the utilities are doing some construction in the road!)
Thanks so much Anna and welcome
Thank you Bette, I like the way you see that second photo. Actually we are heading to Ireland next week, so this week has been all about getting ready for that!
This is a wonderful post, Christine. Your prayer space is peaceful and Tune can account for that! You are fortunate to have your family’s antique desk to hold memories, books, and art. I like the second photo of your right eye as if you are about to leave the room, but before you do, you look deeply in one’s eyes and say, “Seek The Holiness”.
It is nice to return home from a trip away. I hope you will be home for awhile to be able to relax and feel the coziness of your prayer space to contemplate on your new creative space. I’m anxious to hear about it!
When I read your reflections, I feel as though I’ve just inhaled a deeply satisfying and purifying breath of fresh, bracing, clean air. Thank you!
Beautiful photographs, and your prayer space is wonderful. Tune looks so at home there and I love to think of her being with you as you pray.
The poem reminds me a lot in its approach and rhythm of The Invitation by Oriah Mountain Dreamer, which I’m sure you know.