Playing with God; or, Improv with the Holy Trinity

(This post is perhaps a Part 2, or a sister to my earlier post Exploring Video as a Contemplative Practice)

Spiritual disciplines or practices change over time. Since changing careers and locations a little more than a year ago I’ve been struggling to find the spiritual practices that are right for me now. My work/community life has its structure of morning prayer, communal meals, and space for prayerful silence, but my personal practices felt uncertain. Playing guitar was part of the answer. I had returned to playing a few years ago, and in the last year, especially as I’ve been able to do more improvisation it has increasingly been evident that this was a spiritual practice. I had also started taking more pictures, and later video. This picture taking and eventually creating videos increasingly resonated with me. It nurtured and stretched me and was revealing something to me that I still don’t really understand.

During this time I’ve also experienced a shift away from a wordy life. I used to listen to a lot of podcasts, and do quite a bit of reading. And now, I’ve whittled down my podcast listening to just a few, and am often not in the midst of reading a book. I do, however, listen to a lot more music. I’ve been intrigued to notice how my Spotify playlists are almost all music without lyrics, or with lyrics in languages I don’t understand. Sound and image are feeding me where words used to. And with these sounds and images I’m engaging much more at the level of emotion and things that I just don’t understand – and am not sure I need to understand. I’m working more intuitively, which is not ever how I would have described myself in the past.

And so I’m increasingly exploring video, and guitar, and at times bringing them together to create little soundtracks for my little videos. I was driving home the other day and the realization came to me, “I feel like I’m playing with God.” Playing, as in performing, or simply childlike playing. It feels like God is providing the elements and then I find patterns and variation and manipulate and embellish these elements. The visuals that strike my camera, and the sounds that come out of my guitar all feel like gift. And I can honor this gift by, playing with them, and bringing myself to them to shape and be shaped by them.

I will admit I seldom “understand” the things I create. I don’t always know why I shoot the video I do, or why a particular scene speaks to me. Sometimes I want to dismiss these things I’m creating as the self-indulgent jibber jabber of an amateur. I’m not entirely convinced they are not, but they also help be perceive the world and my place in it. As I told my spiritual director, I’m just trying to receive the truth that is being given to me that particular moment.

I feel kinda sheepish that the tools of my spiritual practices include a digital camera, audio interface, electric guitar(s), and audio and video editing software, but that’s what they are. Some people us pen and journal, or incense and yoga mats, and I use these things. All of these tools provide for me a window into the divine, and provide an invitation to play – to do a little divine improvisation with the Holy Trinity trio.

Exploring Video as a Contemplative Practice

What is it about a video with not much happening but some grass moving in the breeze and a few bird songs that captures me, that centers me, that nourishes me? I’m not certain, but creating what I’ve been calling #QuietVideo is becoming an important contemplative practice.

Living in the pastoral setting of the woods and fields of southwest Michigan, as well as the particular beauty of the Hermitage retreat center where I work, I have plenty opportunities to partake of interesting and beautiful scenes.

A #quietvideo invitation to simply pause for 30 seconds and gaze at a tree. This is the first in a series exploring video making/watching as a contemplative tool.

I’ve taken plenty of pictures here, as well as done a few audio recordings of forest sounds, recently video has become the format that has captured my attention.

While taking still pictures can be a very valuable contemplative activity, what I’ve discovered in doing video is it forces me to stand and wait in real-time as the video is captured. I can’t just click and move on to the next shot, but I must stand there, quietly for as long as I want the shot to be. Experiencing time in place seems to be one of the critical experiences of creating video. And then, when I’m back home viewing my work, I must put in the same amount of time viewing the shots.

I started this project shooting 30 second clips. That felt like a long time to just stand there as nothing happened. I’ve moved up to 60 second clips. As I’m mostly shooting very still scenes with very little movement in the video, I feel like a minute is good length. If I had a little bit of action, or really good audio I’d consider going longer.

My tool for this contemplative practice is an older iPhone, with very little memory. I was out shooting this weekend and after 7 minutes my memory was full. This is far from ideal and naturally I covet a better camera and more memory but working within your limits can be a good practice as well. At times I will also use a hand-held audio recorder which records in stereo, and where I can also block out wind noise. So far, I’ve been very happy with doing single, still shots, so a sturdy tripod was a great investment.

Another in the #quietvideo series

A critical thing that video includes that isn’t present in photography is audio. (Fully silent video is an option, but not one that interests me at this point.) I’m very happy when a good image can be matched with good audio. I’m certain it is my affinity for and sensitivity to sound that has drawn me to working with video.

I’ve had a couple videos with bad or inconsequential audio, mostly due to wind rumble, and I’ve tried out created a soundtrack with me playing guitar. I’m not sure I’m as pleased with these as with the videos with the “natural” audio but it’s been a helpful learning experience.

When the sound I get with a video is nothing worth listening to I try to add my own soundtrack. I should spend more time getting it right, but there ya go. #quietvideo

I am very aware that I have very little critical knowledge with which to assess the things I am creating. I am not a cinephile, or trained in any artistic medium (excepting a year of guitar lessons). I have some awareness of design and some knowledge of my iPhone camera’s capabilities, but by and large I strive to work on awareness and instinct. Keeping my eyes and ears open and recording scenes that intrigue me even if I don’t exactly know why.

On one level I know I’m a hack just pointing my cheap phone at stuff but there is something about the experience of recording, and reviewing that makes me feel more present, more centered. It would be wonderful if I made videos that were by some critical measure “good”, but their real purpose is personal.

I’m aware of books on photography as a contemplative practice, but I’ve not found others who specifically talk about creating video as a contemplative practice. The work of filmmaker Patrick Shen certainly inspires me, and I’ve recently discovered and been fascinated by some of the works of James Benning.

I know that this practice nurtures my soul, and I know that through this practice I am learning of/experiencing God – but I’ve yet to figure out how to put this into words. A big part of what I like about my video creating experience is the complete absence of words. It is my hope that in the creating and viewing I, and others, experience small sparks of revelation, of awareness, of knowing beyond words.

You can find the videos I’m creating on my YouTube channel.

Amos 5:1-17. A targum

Hear these words of lamentation, oh you who are so comfortable.

Destitute, with no more power to earn are the accomplished.

Evicted, having defaulted on their mortgage are the entitled.

For this is what God says,

The retirement plan that once held thousands now holds hundreds,

The health care plan that once covered everything now charges you by the pill.

For this is what God says,

Seek me and live.

But do not look to your wise investments,

And do not enter your safe communities,

Or look for security from systems that upheld your privilege.

For your investments are lost,

And your safe communities have been flooded.

Seek God and live,

Or God will come to destroy al that gives you a sense of security,

And nobody will be there to protect you.

Ah you that turn laws into loopholes 

And make a mockery of justice.

Seek uprightness and not easy comfort,

That you may live,

So the Lord, the provider of all security will be with you.

Hate injustice and love love,

Establish compassion in your courts.

It may be that the God of your immigrant ancestors

Will be gracious to you all

This is what the God of the universe declares,

On all the cable news networks there shall be wailing,

And every Facebook post will be a call for help.

They shall call the bankers to mourning,

And those who tell sad stories to wailing.

In the big box stores there will be wailing.

For I will move through the midst of you,

Says our God. 

Disorientation and Welcome

I like to plan. I appreciate having an idea of what is going to happen and I presume others appreciate these things too. I want to put people at ease so that they will know what is going on and what to expect. I believe it is a welcoming and hospitable thing to do.

And yet, I also know that my preference to plan and to anticipate what will happen can muffle my ears and blinder my eyes to what is actually going on around me. Expecting one thing to happen means I am not willing to engage when some other thing happens.

Feeling disoriented is, well, disorienting and it is not comfortable. It leaves me vulnerable to the unknown. I experience this also on behalf of the guests who come to visit The Hermitage. For some retreatants this is their first time here and it may be their first encounter with deep silence. A key part of my job of welcoming is to orient them to how things happen here and what to expect – to remove their own disorientation and dis-ease (whether it is real or projected.)

I remember a pilgrimage my wife and I took to Ireland. Travelling is hard for me, because there are so many unfamiliar things and all my planning can’t prepare me for them all. At the first gathering of our pilgrimage group our leader named the disorientation that many (all) of us were feeling, and the importance of accepting and living in that disorientation. That disorientation is necessary if there is going to be any kind of reorientation.

And so, I need to learn to allow some space for disorientation for our guests and for myself. The next time a guest arrives late for Saturday morning centering prayer after we’ve finished the introduction, (although I feel uncomfortable with the individual’s possible disorientation), I will pray that this be a time of reorientation – both for the guest and me. I will pray that we both are able to simply receive God’s reorienting welcome.

On People, Podcasts, and Being an Introvert

For nearly a year I have worked at a job where I need to be present to people in a way that I’ve never before been. As the Guest Services Coordinator at a retreat center part of my job is to be present to people – on the phone, via email, and in person. Even if there is not a lot of conversation – and being a gently silent retreat center, there usually isn’t a lot of conversation – I am conscious of being present to our guests. I am attentive to their reservation requests and the questions that usually follow. I am attentive to when they arrive and whenever possible, going out to greet them as they walk from their car. I am attentive to them as they join the staff for conversation after morning prayers. I am attentive to them as I prepare and serve meals taking into account guests’ dietary needs.

And my attention to people is not limited to our guests. My work colleagues include my wife and another married couple and our relationship is deeper than merely work-mates – and these relationships require deep attention.

This work of being attentive to people is in strong contrast to my previous job. In my previous work “behind the scenes” in a library, being attentive to others was not part of my job description, and not often part of my work life. My relationships with my colleagues were usually good but largely functional. I also spent a good deal of time working alone.

And podcasts?

In my previous job, and off the job, I listened to a lot of podcasts. While I tended to avoid overly long, overly chatty podcasts, I had people speaking in my headphones for several hours each day. I really enjoyed hearing interesting people tell stories, conduct interviews, and solve crime or science puzzles. There were a lot of people with a lot of words.

Since transitioning to this new work life, I’ve found my interest and desire to listen to clever and the wise words piped into my ears has significantly declined. The talk-filled programs now tire me more often than engage me. I feel bad about this, because I appreciate these podcasts and their creators, but I just don’t have it in me to give my attention to all those people and all their words. It’s not them, it’s me.

It’s not that the headphones have left my head. By no means. Spotify now pipes all sorts of sounds into my ears. But its all music. I’ve noticed that much of the music I’ve been listening to lately either has no words, or the lyrics are in a language I don’t understand. I’m also playing a ton more guitar.

As an introvert I am intrigued to see how I am responding to/coping with a job that involves me putting myself out for people. I love our retreat guests and am honored to offer them my attentive hospitality. And, this attentiveness to the people before me doesn’t leave space for me to give my attention to the people and their podcast world.