_DSC8484-c2DON JOHNSON 2089399397

It's December, and we've arrived at the gates of our own Bethlehem after a yearlong journey of inward-focusing photo assignments. There has been an underlying theme, you see, a reason for all of them. Remember ostranyenie, touched in the head, hidden, mumble tracks, memory leak, heavy light, or the one that whacked almost everybody - photosynthesis? The thread that held them all together, the map that led us here, is the ineffable, the unlabeled, the presence of the present. It's the "it" that's virtually impossible to put into words, yet we employ thousands of them in its pursuit. Aren't we an odd persevering lot?

When we're touched by the oneness of wonder, we know it, don't we? We feel connected, in tune, in awe of what is. But when we try to describe it to someone else, it never translates well, does it? It's ironic - wonder is a direct connection to All That Is and a uniquely private affair at the same time. It's like sticking a fork into an electrical socket - now that's a direct experience that can't be shared because you're paralyzed! Later, you could describe it to someone but they'd have zero clue until they did it themselves. No doubt that's why some kind, sharing genius invented the taser.

Lens People have a big advantage when it comes to sharing and spreading the sense of wonder. Photographs don't need words or explanations to directly transmit a feeling, a mood, a concept, a message without interference from one soul to another. Photographs bypass our addiction to language, especially our modern dialects so infected with misdirection, double entendre, propaganda, and dilution. A camera fully sees What Is, simply and without comment. Our goal is to see that same way - judgment free, witnessing each moment as a brand new act of creation, and to facilitate that awareness to someone else. The more we get out of our own way, the more the Way is revealed.

There is an apropos Latin phrase that sheds some light on our condition as we approach our annual season of reflection and renewal. It goes like this:

"Nascantur in admiratione."

Loosely translated, it becomes "Let them be born in wonder."

Doesn't that describe what we're seeking? We see it often in babies and young children as they discover something greater than themselves for the first time. And if we haven't killed off our own curiosity and openness, we occasionally experience such expansion in ourselves, too. But it needs constant care and feeding, and as we age it becomes easier to forget where we left the watering can.

To be born is to be willing to trust, love, and care - and wonder is the environment in which trust, love, and care thrive. Sounds like the perfect soil for photography, right? Do we trust what we see, love what we do, and care about the outcome? 

We are all too aware of how badly the world craves more wonder at the moment. Let's give birth to it with our cameras. Find it where it lives; let it lure us out of our own shadows into the light. As we temporarily turn off the medium of language - tv, radio, magazines, papers, internet - we will find wonder still beating beneath the noise. Wonder hasn't left us; it's we that wander. Be still, quiet, waiting, and relieved of the stress of thinking. Watch, observe, feel, and listen at rest. Then click the shutter as wonder sidles up behind you and kisses you on the cheek.

Merry Christmas, one and all. Unwrap your present of presence.

NASCANTUR IN ADMIRATIONE will run for two weeks, from Dec 14 through Dec 27.