Ireland, Thin Places, and Beauty

     One year ago today I was in Ireland.  I wish I was still there! 
     My trip to Ireland was a dream come true for me and my friend, Rhonni.  We had been talking about going to Ireland for ten years - dreaming, planning, saving.  Every year that we thought we could actually make the trip happen, something would come up - the proverbial bump in the road - that kept us from fulfilling the dream.  Finally, we made the decision that 2010 was the year.  We would go to Ireland ... and we did.  It was fantastic and even more beautiful than I had imagined.  Cool, green, and stunning.  I imagine that heaven will look a lot like Ireland!
     Obviously, one of the reasons that I loved Ireland was the amazing beauty, but another reason that I loved it had less to do with the things that I saw with my eyes and more to do with what I saw with the spiritual connection that I found there.  That concept is a little difficult to explain, but I will try.
     Ireland for me felt like home, even though I had never been there before.  In the ten years that we were planning the trip, I did some reading about Irish history, St. Patrick, and Celtic Christianity.  In my reading, I found an ancient Celtic concept known as "thin places" - places where the veil between the world we see and the Other World is thin.  Places where we can "see" into another world that we miss because we are wrapped up in our day to day living.  Ireland was like that for me.  The trip allowed me to step out away from my daily grind and experience a new world - a world of beautiful creation, a world where I could just be, and could enjoy that beauty.  I wanted to stay in that place forever, but could not.
     Or could I?  Maybe the point is not that the thin places are in Ireland, but that there are thin places all around us.  We just don't see them because we don't take the time.  Maybe I miss the thin places that are there when I am talking to a friend or having a phone conversation with my son because I am too worried about all the other stuff I need to be doing.  Maybe I miss the thin places that exist in my surroundings because I am grumbling about the heat or the cold or whatever else I am focusing on. 
    Seeing the thin places allows me to see the beauty that is here and helps me see what truly matters.  I need to look for those places every day.
     Seen any thin places lately?

Historian of the Heart

     Often, someone will ask me how I got into photography, and I find that question somewhat difficult to answer.   I do know, however, why I stay in photography.  Strangely enough, the reasons I keep doing photography have very little to do with loving photography itself. (Even though, I do love the art and science of photography.)  The reason I continue to work as a photographer is that photographs allow us to connect in ways that we would miss if we didn't have our photos. 
     Here is a story that illustrates what I mean.  When I was younger, this portrait (above) was hanging in my grandmother's house.  It was one of those old Victorian portraits - oval, convex, and framed in an ornate oval frame under bubble glass.  I loved looking at this photo, but for the life of me, I couldn't figure out why we had this huge picture of the cough-drop-box guys  hanging on the wall.  (For those of you who don't remember Smith Bros. cough drops, the Smiths looked a lot like this photo.)  Finally, I asked my grandmother about the portrait, and she explained that this photo was of her twin uncles who fought on opposite sides in the Civil War.  After the war, they were so angry with each other that they didn't speak to each other for 20 years.  Eventually, one of them decided that being brothers was more important than anything, so he wrote to his twin wanting to reconcile.  The other brother agreed to meet in a centrally located town.  When they met, they were dressed the same, their hair was cut in a similar fashion, and they both wore beards. (Still looking like twins even though they had not seen each other in twenty years!)  To commemorate the occasion, they went to a local photographer who created this portrait - a portrait that allowed me to learn a part of my family history that I might have missed.
     You see, this portrait connects me with my heritage and will continue to connect future generations to the legacy that is our family history. Old photographs do that for us, but portraits also connect us to the present.  When we display portraits of our families or our children, we are saying that  we are proud of them and that we love them. These photographs show who we are and what is important to us.
      Of course, those family portraits we treasure now will someday connect us to the future, passing on our legacy to those who come after us.
     That is why I am a photographer -a historian of the heart who desires to create personal works of art that will be cherished for generations to come.
     What will your legacy be?

~ Vondel ~