Posts Tagged ‘perception’

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Pele Speaks

Tuesday, May 19th, 2015

Pele speaks

I’ve decided to renew my relationship with my art, and so I’m sharing this first piece in a new series called Messages from the Mother.

At various times I become aware that my photographs are pretty, but don’t speak to the whole of my awareness–especially in areas that don’t look as pretty! This has happened lately with my aerial photos. I love flying over the earth and always celebrate the beauty that is revealed from above, especially in areas otherwise inaccessible. It feels like such a privilege to be able to fly over uninhabited land, and to study Mother Earth’s contours and colors and patterns.

And…there is more to discuss.

We are all painfully aware of the mess we have found ourselves in regarding our relationship with the Mother. I heard the other day that some experts are saying we have already crossed that tipping point where we could have reversed the damage. Certain species, phenomena and levels of comfort may already be out of our reach. And we have no one else to blame.

And so lately when I fly with my husband over the body of the Mother, I wonder what messages she is sending. What do my own pretty photos of her suggest to me? If she were to speak, what would she say?

Wondering this, I wandered to the desk where I occasionally do art, and opened the drawer. There was a postcard I bought in Hawaii, with a picture of Pele. She is a force in the islands, particularly on the Big Island, where she resides in volcanic splendor, occasionally erupting in seeming fury, destroying everything within her reach.

Amazed at the serendipity, I took the postcard over to my framed photo of the Painted Desert in Arizona. The colors matched perfectly, and so did streaks of light on the postcard and the photo. Meant to be, I figured. I unframed the photo and began my new series.

The large white piece of paper with the black curved form is a scan I saved from my breast cancer treatment. Pele might be saying she needs treatment from the cancer she is suffering from–due to our incessant, unstoppable consumption of her resources.

The two orange circles are photographic records of the emissions of stars. Pele might be reminding me that we are part of a large system–a universe that is interdependent, and still largely mysterious to us. When we remember this, our hubris softens.

The graphs below the star images are records of temperatures in different areas of our country. We know weather is wild now, and we know as the climate changes, so must we.

Below Pele’s face are a weather map from the newspaper, a New York Times photo of the California drought and a report of storms that soaked the plains in a surprise flooding spring rain. “What do you expect?” I hear Pele wondering.

Now, with the re-framed piece on my wall, the beauty of the Painted Desert is more poignant, more bittersweet. Pele is reminding me to change my ways. To learn to live with less water, less possessions, less meat, less waste, less entitlement.

How do I feel about her messages? Of course they are sobering, but they are not new information. So I am grateful that she is working her way into me, into my heart, my thoughts, my body and my actions. I am only one person, but so are you. And how we respond to this gorgeous earth and her needs will determine everything about our future.

 

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Posted in caring for the earth, conscious evolution, consciousness, divine feminine, feminine leadership, managing change, mindfulness, nature as mirror, Photographic collage, Photography, shifting how we see, shifting paradigms, weather | 7 Comments »

How to Make a Great Decision

Monday, February 9th, 2015

path

Sitting in sacred circle with a group of women, I listened to stories told by a group ranging from 19-90. Do you resonate with some of what they shared?

“I’m bursting with energy, but confused. How do I prioritize all I want to do?”

“I have a list of things I love, but I’m not doing that list.”

“I’m so distractible, interested in everything. I need to focus.”

“I have physical symptoms that tell me I’m not on the right path, and it’s still hard to trust doing what I love and know to be true.”

So what is the theme? It sounded to me like the question, “How do we see our path, and then how do we follow it?” This is an important and recurring theme that follows us through life.

Is the answer to discipline ourselves? To crack down and force ourselves to focus and choose? I think not! That is the old way.

This circle, facilitated by dear friend Elise Collins Shields, was an honoring of St. Brigid, descended from the Celtic goddess of the hearth. And so I asked Brigid to whisper in my ear about what we as women leaders, who are immersed in complexity, need to do. How do we discern in the new way? Here is what I “heard:”

As goddess of the hearth, I say, build a fire within to warm and bless your heart’s home–the place inside where you are who you’ve always been and always will be. This is a place outside time and space, a place only the heart knows.

Sit by the hearth, the place of warmth, comfort and safety within your heart and have a fireside chat.

Say to the Universe, “In this great journey where there are so many possibilities to manifest, I wish to liberate myself from outdated stories and beliefs and embody the IAM, The One, the Beloved, the Truth.“

Now ask–no, command that the Truth within you enter this room with eyes open, head held high, and speak what is next for you. Listen and “take it in.” Embody that Truth.

Then, rooted in and embodying that Truth, you will conduct a mediation with the mind, which will be a great help to the Truth in working out the third dimension details.

This is the right order of things.

This message from Brigid has stayed with me, and it reminds me of some important things I want to remember:

  1. The heart is the first place I want to go when making any decision. That is “the right order of things.”
  1. The heart is fearless about moving forward and telling me the Truth, and that will always come in Love.
  1. My mind is useful as well, and is a wonderful implementor. I don’t have to worry that my heart will lead me down a scary or impractical path, because the mind will always help with the strategic, clever and practical ways to manifest the heart’s truth in the “real” world.
  2. We all know more than our mind admits. So another question to ask   myself is, “What if I just did what I really know is next?”

This kind of discernment and decision-making is a great gift for a heart-centered leader. It will save time in the end, and move us forward in important ways.

Will you join me in making decisions in this way? Try it and let me know how it works for you.  I look forward to your comments.

 

 

 

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Posted in authenticity, bringing out your gifts, calling, coaching, conscious evolution, consciousness, feminine leadership, Guided imagery, heart-centered leadership, meditation, returning to essence, seeing oneself, shifting how we see, shifting paradigms, spiritual practices, Tools for seeing ourselves, women's empowerment | 2 Comments »

Which Road Will You Take?

Saturday, January 10th, 2015

roads

As I weep over the multi-layered tragedy in France, I am also aware of pain in other areas, both personal and institutional, all around us. The pain raises that age-old question once again, a question that is more dramatic than ever in this age where we are exposed to global events in the media in a very tangible way. What is our role when we see suffering, and how do we handle our feelings about it?

When I move away from the huge issues surrounding terrorism, religious intolerance and violent fundamentalism and concentrate on my own life, certain themes become clear. Some examples…

Clients always come to me with a story, and I come to myself with my own stories. All of us want these stories solved, and we usually approach them by trying to figure them out. When we get engaged on that level, we usually get caught in a loop, going round and round. I tell my clients and myself, “The answer does not lie within the story.”

My shamanic training taught me to be an ally for clients by looking at their story “through a different lens.” Instead of engaging with the drama, my job is to hold space for a larger possibility.

The story has brought the client to a crossroads, where there is a decision to be made. Do I take the same road I’ve always taken when issues like this come up, or do I take a road I’ve never taken?

I ask them to choose the road not taken, which is to engage not from the “smaller” self that becomes victim to every drama, but from the larger self which knows better. This self can look at things from a larger consciousness, from the soul level. From that level, there is a big, long journey visible.

And so the larger self can say about the current tragedy, “Of course you have these emotions about it.” And then that soul-self can add, “And what could be good about all this?

On a personal level, what could be good about a tragedy is that someone might respond to it by deciding to go down the road of truly seizing their life and going after their heart’s desire. Now there’s an exciting opportunity!

On an institutional level, when things fall apart, the good thing could be that the leadership sees old patterns that are not sustainable and embraces a larger vision that really serves their dream and also serves the planet. Hooray!

And on a global level, the good thing about a terrible tragedy is that it brings things to light that have not been recognized by the general populace, and they have the chance when they see what’s wrong, to stand for a new and brighter road to a different future.

The crossroads in all three situations present the choice between submitting to something that may feel like fate, or seizing our soul’s true destiny. I would like to hold the vision of that destiny, and to take a stand for that.

I do that through spiritual practice that reminds me of who I truly am and of my unity with unseen spiritual support. And I hold energetic space for change to flow through me and through others, who will make their own choices.

This is a tough discipline for sure. But that is what we are being asked to do, and why we may be on the planet at this time. So join me in responding to it all with–along with our natural grief and compassion–a larger and more powerful force that holds it all.

 

 

 

 

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Posted in conscious evolution, consciousness, managing change, meditation, overcoming fear, self-healing, shifting how we see, shifting paradigms, spiritual practices, Tools for seeing ourselves | 2 Comments »

Lessons from Lobo #5

Wednesday, July 9th, 2014

 

Lobo snake bite 

As protective and fierce as Lobo could appear, sometimes he was a big baby.

He must have heard Thunder speak to him like a great god who came ripping over the mountain growling and barking with a voice big enough to send him under the dining room table or huddled behind my office desk. Our Tucson monsoons are convincing for sure, but no amount of reassuring made them easy for him.

Jon made a big mistake when Lobo was a scared puppy who refused to venture into our swimming pool: he threw him in. From then on, Lobo would run along the edge barking at the water we’d splash up at him. He’d wade onto the first step and lie down there at the end of a long, hot walk in the desert. But no amount of cajoling would convince him to go deeper. He never blamed Jon; the trauma had been inflicted by the Great Pool God, who had sucked him in and pushed him under. For some reason the Pool God did not scare humans, but that was probably due to their stupidity.

Unfortunately, one fear Lobo had to learn from experience was his fear of rattlesnakes. One day when Jon was fortunately home, he heard a yelp unlike any he’d heard before. Lobo came inside foaming at the mouth, and hid under the dining room table. Jon could see two fresh pinpoints of blood on his nose. Clearly, Lobo had gotten overconfident.

After a couple of phone consults with neighbors who had various home remedies, Jon called the animal emergency hospital. “Don’t give him any antihistamine. Don’t give him anything; just get him here,” they counseled. $1800 and two vials of antivenom later, I picked him up the following morning. In this case, weighing 120 lbs. had been an advantage.

We decided that just in case he hadn’t gotten the message (after all, he still chased coyotes, mother cows and the neighborhood hawk), we’d give him snake training. We met the snake trainer out in Oracle, where he parked his truck full of penned rattlesnakes he had de-fanged himself. We’re talking the wild west here.

First, he put one of those evil Collars on Lobo, so that he could shock him if he didn’t pass every snake test: sight, sound, and smell. He put a wriggler down and took Lobo on a leash nearby. He turned around and ran; it was a pass.

Then he put a rattler in a burlap bag and annoyed it somehow, so that it rattled. Lobo got it. (Anything to avoid that Collar!)

Finally, he hid the bagged snake underneath Jon’s truck and called Lobo, unleashed, over toward the truck. Lobo leaped into the truck’s open window. An A+.

After that, on summer evening walks, we’d have Lobo lead, which he always did anyway. If he veered off the path, we followed him. In addition to being an amateur cattle herder, a rabbit population control officer and a coyote wrangler, Lobo was now a certified snake guide. When we’d find one in the yard, Jon would use our long snake tongs to hoist it into a big bucket, and he and Lobo would drive it a few miles away to vacant land and give it a new home.

And Lobo wore his snake nose tattoo proudly, probably figuring it was a badge of courage. We never had the heart to tell him that we saved his life, probably for the second time.

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Posted in dogs as teachers, overcoming fear, Photography, seeing oneself, shifting how we see, shifting paradigms, Tools for seeing ourselves | 4 Comments »

What Kids Taught Me about the Active Imagination

Thursday, May 16th, 2013

 

Since I was in love with photography, I wanted everyone else to be as well (nothing like the fervor of the converted.) So,I decided to teach small group photography classes in my living room.

Right away, it was clear to me that I raced through the part about f-stops and dove into explorations about light, the energetic nature of matter, and the spiritual elements of photography. After listening to me for one lesson, an adult student approached me and said she thought her son should study with me.

Billy was learning disabled, though in those days there was no label for that. Frustrated by school and in need of a success experience, Billy would “get’ the right-brained way I taught photography. Would I give him lessons?

I had another close friend with a daughter Mary, who was also having learning problems. So for $5 an hour, I worked with the two of them every week for 1 ½ years.  As a former classroom teacher, I had already formed a strong curiosity about why certain kids weren’t learning. Now I was studying all I could find about the new discoveries about the right and left brain. I felt I was being led on a treasure hunt.

The exercises I designed for Billy and Mary became the basis of curricula I would design and teach in both public and private schools. As an artist-in-residence for the South Pasadena, CA school district, I had the privilege of doing a photography project with 60 5th graders. It was called “Seen one Rock, Seen ‘Em All,”( a brazen slam at Ronald Reagan, who had made that comment about national parks.)

I gave each student a rock, and led them through a guided imagery exercise where they allowed their active imagination to play with the inner picture of that rock, allowing it to become part of a larger scene and story. I had them draw the scene and write the story.

Now the fun began. Their next challenge was to figure out how to make a photograph of that drawing, using the rock and other objects. “That’s not fair!” some of them began to protest. “You didn’t tell us we’d have to make this into a photograph! I wouldn’t have thought of something this complicated if I had known!” said one.

The student, Jack, showed me a drawing of a rock that had become an island surrounded by water, topped with trees, and blown by a strong wind causing big waves. “How am I going to do this?” he said as if it were obviously impossible.

It was a class in problem-solving, so I hinted that he might think of movie sets and dioramas. I teamed the kids up and gave them a week until the day we’d set up a simple photo studio and make the photographs, which they would then print themselves later in the studio I had now rented.

The photo above is an example of the student work, which became a school exhibit. Anna “saw’ her rock (at the top of this article) ‘turn into” her ballet slipper, well-worn from all her attempts to make it into a toe shoe, successfully poised on top of the rock it resembled. The hardness of the rock matched her hard work. The beauty of the shape matched the beauty she captured in her treasured slipper. Beautiful, I thought, and a deep message about how important dance was to Anna.

As for Jack, I couldn’t wait to see how my biggest protester would solve his problem. And so I grinned proudly when, on the day of our shoot, he walked in  with his partner, holding a plastic tub he would fill with water, tiny trees he’d made of paper, and a hair dryer.

Seen one rock, seen ’em all? Sorry, Reagan. I don’t see them that way. And neither do kids, who can see more than we think, when we give them a chance to keep their imaginations alive.

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Posted in bringing out your gifts, children as teachers, creative imagination, Creativity, creativity and empowerment, Guided imagery, Imagination, nature as mirror, Photography, seeing oneself, shifting paradigms | 9 Comments »

Passages

Friday, May 3rd, 2013

 

In my 30’s I began to photograph in earnest. Now that was back in the ‘70’s, so picture me stepping out in a safari-like photographer’s vest and smoking brown More cigarettes. (The More bohemian and rebellious, the better.)

I set out to explore the other side of the tracks. Mind you, I was raised in San Marino, CA, bastion at that time of white privilege, the John Birch Society (sorry if some of these references are too representative of another generation) and suspicion of “others not like us.”

I feel shame as I write this, but it’s my history.

I had lived in NYC and taught public school there for three years, so I was well “over” San Marino. But now in my adult, parental state (and back in the state of CA) I had only moved four miles away, into South Pasadena. Lawns still looked green, houses gentrified, and attitudes were changing slowly. I was in the mood for a rebellion.

I went north, into the “ghetto” of Pasadena at that time, an area full of lovely old Victorians neglected because of poverty and segregation. My camera was my passport. And architecture was my proof that I was documenting unappreciated treasures. I gained entrance into a new neighborhood and a new form of education.

What was valuable about “the old architecture” in society and in my own being that had been neglected? And what needed tearing down and renovating? What was family about? What if all the races lived together and formed one? I photographed these questions.

It was a time of great opening for me. My Victorian grandmother had passed on, and so had her way of life and viewing the world, graceful as it was. My parents appeared confused: pleased to offer me two lamb chops for dinner at the mahogany dining room table, and willing to work hard for my excellent education…yet mired in the ‘50’s view of life. I was just now trying to emerge from it.

The photograph you see is just one of the many photographs I took during that period. I had a show at a hip Pasadena gallery, showcasing several years of 35mm architectural photography. I considered it a tribute to a history that was passing, evolving.

I chose to show you this photograph because I took it in a beautiful old Pasadena classic house that I admired. On the chaise, upholstered in the perfect fabric for that period, lay a book that had been seminal for me: Gail Sheehy’s Passages. After all, I was in one.

Out the window lay some other land, one that was natural and still impressionistic and undefined for me—but one that was beckoning me. So I colored it with Marshall’s Oils, to represent new life. The path ahead.

What is your ‘old world’ now that you wish to honor as it passes and evolves? What would you photograph to represent it? And how does the new one look? What will be your passageway into that new way of seeing, that new life?

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Posted in conscious evolution, Creativity, creativity and empowerment, death and new life, inner landscape, managing change, Photography, seeing oneself, self-healing, shifting how we see, shifting paradigms, Tools for seeing ourselves | 7 Comments »

An Audience with Ansel

Friday, April 12th, 2013

 

It was the summer of 1983, and I was soaring. Griegs’ pianto concerto was blaring in my brown VW bus, and I was heading up Highway 1 to Carmel. I had a date with Ansel Adams.

 I had taken all the photography courses my community college offered, and had moved through a “Masters’ course” at UCLA. So, feeling pretty heady, I applied for the Master’s Class Ansel Adams would give in Carmel for his last time.

It was now or never. My work wasn’t anything like his, so I doubted I would be accepted. Among the slides I submitted with my application, not one was of monumental scenery. Mine were architectural or landscape details and portraits of women,  and none of them demonstrated any of the darkroom expertise for which Ansel was famous. But I had been accepted, and was now on my way to join 59 other students and to meet four other artist/faculty members. I was thrilled.

The 60 of us were divided into four groups of 15 each. Every day for five days, each group would work with a different artist. In the morning, we would see the artist’s work and hear about their experiences, techniques and artistic influences and theories. In the afternoon, we would show our portfolios and get the artist’s critical guidance. Exciting and somewhat terrifying.

I got to eat, sleep, talk and dream photography for five days–the complete opposite of my life as a mother and part-time photographer/teacher at home. My favorite faculty member was Barbara Morgan, who was in her ’80s. Every time she looked at our work, she turned our prints upside down. “I think we should turn everything upside down,” she explained. If it didn’t work as a balanced design, it didn’t work.

On the final day, our group went to Ansel and Virginia’s house for our day with him. He held court in a gallery room with skylights above, his grand piano in the center, and his famous prints ringing the walls. (In my grainy snapshot, you can see the before and after versions of Moonlight Over Hernandez.)

In his 80’s, Ansel was getting ready to retire. Virginia was his charming hostess, showing us the house and serving refreshments. His darkroom assistant, John Sexton, now a renowned photographer/teacher, showed us the famous darkroom and shared some secrets.

Ansel, the Elvis of the photographic world back then, joked, told stories, and wasn’t that much into teaching. But as the inventor of the Zone System and the technique of pre-visualizing a finished print with just the gradations of black and white one wants, he left me a basic and enduring legacy: photography is all about chasing the light.

And that’s what I’ve been doing ever since: chasing the light. Ansel cared about light more than his “school” of photography over someone else’s. I took it as a supreme compliment when, at our student exhibition the last night, he pointed out one of my “Women in Hats,” a color print with layers of Marshall oils (not his style.)

I figure that even though I’ve taken “chasing the light” to a spiritual level, he wouldn’t judge my “school,” and might appreciate how he inspired me.

Every time I walk down the hall to my home office, I pass a framed poster of his Aspens in Northern New Mexico,which he signed for me that night. Ever the flirt, he punctuated his autograph with a wicked smile and an unmistakable wink.

If you were to look at it, you might not see the wink. But for me, the light in it is still there.

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Posted in Creativity, creativity and empowerment, Photography, shifting how we see, Tools for seeing ourselves | No Comments »

Out of the Dark Room

Wednesday, March 20th, 2013

The first photo I ever printed in a darkroom was at summer camp in the 7th grade. The photo was of a girl  pouring a bucket of water over another girl’s head. Hilarious, right? (Remember 7th grade humor?)

My career as a comedienne ceased abruptly, but I would return to photography as my passion and art form. In college I studied in France and returned with eight boxes of slides. Remember slides? Eight rolls doesn’t seem like much for six months nowadays, but they were enough to hook me for life.

In my ‘20’s when I had children, I knew I wanted to take good pictures of them. Serendipity struck when my husband bought a used Nikkormat (another historical reference) from a friend. Just at the time when I needed to learn what an f-stop was, I won a raffle at a local arts center. The prize was a photography course.

I was in love. The teacher held class at her house, which was full of pillows and padded sculptures covered in fabric that had been silk screened with black and white photos. It had never occurred to me that photography was an art.

I took every course my community college offered. I learned how to lock myself in my closet at home so I could take exposed film out of the camera and load it into a developing tank. I studied the masters, determined to become one.

I had a darkroom in each house. When the kids were little, I set an enlarger up in the garage or the laundry room at night. When we moved to a house with a basement, I could leave everything in place. The family got used to my disappearing down the stairs to do magic with only an amber light on.

Maybe what finally drove me to rent a studio was my habit of leaving bottles of developing solution on the kitchen counter next to the olive oil. It became evident that I needed some separation between my growing profession and my personal life.

In this blog I’m going to share some of the things that developed in my darkrooms and in others I set up in schools, in my studio, and in my head, where I processed images from my active imagination. Images, I found, had power. And I had power to create them. Which meant I had power to see things…through a different lens.

That was the adventure. And it still is. I want to share with you what seeing differently has meant to me and to those I’ve worked with—and how photography led me into healing work and eventually on to the shamanic path. It’s really about creativity, and how that part of us is hooked up to the Exit sign in those dark rooms we inhabit sometimes. Creativity can get us out—into the light.

Stay tuned.

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Posted in creative imagination, Creativity, creativity and empowerment, Imagination, Photography, shifting how we see, shifting paradigms, Tools for seeing ourselves | 8 Comments »

Photographing the Unseen

Tuesday, March 12th, 2013

Most people approach photography in a documentary way photographing an event, a person or an object in order to remember it, or to say, “This is how it is.” We tell a story of what we see. But another way to approach photography is through the question, “What have I not seen?”

Now we’re on a treasure hunt! And rather than thinking of “shooting” something with the camera (or phone,) we might think of opening the lens to something new. Just writing that opens my heart to the possibility of a magic moment where I might discover…anything.

Instead of “capturing” a moment, I’m willing to be more passive and let something new present itself to me. It’s the difference between a reporter covering an event and two friends of lovers having an intimate conversation. I’m open today to having a heart-to-heart with the Creation.

This kind of experience opens our inner eye. We find that what was formerly unseen was there all along, but we weren’t seeing it. Maybe we weren’t slowing down enough. Or maybe we weren’t broadening our vision. Or getting close enough. Or maybe we were being too literal and saying to ourselves, “There’s a leaf.” Instead of looking at that object as a way for us to see how light acts.

And what happens when our inner eye is opened? Well, my experience is usually gratitude. Appreciation. That wonderful expansive feeling that comes from being opened to the beauty of something or someone.

So here’s an assignment for you:

Go out for a medicine walk using your camera. The kind of camera makes no difference. Set your intention by asking the Universe to reveal to you something you haven’t seen before. It could be small–like the inside of a flower or a curve of the mountain, or the way your friend’s nose looks when she laughs. You aren’t after masterpieces; the purpose is to open your inner eye.

Share what you find–others would like to see! And tell us how your inner eye opened. That is, when you saw what you saw, what did you see about yourself, or the world, or a way you could be? You can post photos at Facebook.com/PamelaHale9.

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Posted in Creativity, creativity and empowerment, inner landscape, nature as mirror, Photography, seeing oneself, shifting how we see, shifting paradigms, spiritual practices, The Beauty Path, Tools for seeing ourselves | No Comments »

What does my wild heart desire, #3

Friday, February 22nd, 2013

Those of you who live in AZ will understand why the snow storm we just had was a major miracle. If you live in Kansas City, you might not agree this week. But for desert dwellers in the middle of a long drought, water in any form is good news.

More importantly for my wild heart, the snow created a fairyland that made me feel about six. Sitting in my home office, I could feel my wild heart sitting up to take notice. “It’s turning white!” she said, anticipating an adventure.

Sure enough, after part one of the storm my husband came home and we put on our boots and went for a walk. Crunching along, halfway around our usual loop, it started to snow again. Slowly at first, then more and more intensely. We started to laugh. Slowly at first, then more and more intensely. Our dog began to prance. We were in the middle of a full-on snow storm.

By the time it all ended, our table on the hill was uninhabitable, but my wild heart loved the scene. And here are some of the reasons:

  1. My wild heart loves surprises.
  2. My wild heart loves wildness in nature.
  3. My wild heart loves beauty.
  4. My wild heart loves transformation.
  5. My wild heart loves joy.

I got all these in one walk. There’s something to treasure, to consider, to keep.

And you?  What does your wild heart love?

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Posted in happiness, nature as mirror, Photography, shifting how we see, Tools for seeing ourselves, weather, winter | 5 Comments »

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