Life of a Pilgrim

Stereotypical China

We think in stereotypes. Whether or not we admit we think in stereotypes perhaps depends on how politically correct we are attempting to be at the moment. But the simple fact is that our brains are constantly lumping, associating and organizing information based on similarities and differences. In fact, I don’t think it’s entirely wrong to hold stereotypes…as long as we recognize them for what they are: loose generalizations that will and must fall apart when examining any subject matter on a more individual and detailed basis.

Before moving here, the stereotypical “picture” I had in my mind of China likely looked something like this.

A pagoda. With some cherry blossoms thrown in for good measure.

Indeed, there are many pagodas in China.

And if it’s the right time of year, they might just be framed by cherry blossoms.

The other image that would have likely come to mind prior to arrival is a bicycle.

The bicycle…the epitome of transportation in China. That is, unless you live on a frozen block of ice seven months of the year.

Obviously, there is not a pagoda perched on every corner in China and not all people (some, not all) have the coordination and endurance to bike on 6 inches of ice in -20 degree temperatures. And so, in my mind, the images that make me sigh an “Ahhhh, China” and introspectively gaze off into the distance are quite different these days. For example, what is now stereotypical is a slightly different form of transportation (in other words, a vehicle comprised of an unexpected number of wheels and/or unconventional materials).

Or the remnants of mutilated trees, evidence of a drastic approach to pruning that I struggle to understand.

Or trees planted unnaturally in a uniform manner, with a brightly colored swing plopped in the middle, with a girl happily swinging…and photographing herself.

Or the weather worn window of the neighborhood shop affectionately coined the blue store.

Perhaps these images do not possess the traditional beauty of the pagoda, and yet, they are more dear to me in that they reveal my China, the China I have come to (let’s be honest) tolerate in some moments, and downright love at other moments.

Turning the corner

It was the scent that drew me there. I was leaving the teaching building this afternoon and for once was halted by a pleasant smell. I glanced over at the bushes next to the building, and somewhat surprised found branches burdened with blossoms. As I walked home I noticed just how pronounced the symptoms of spring were becoming. The past few days had been gray and blustery, and I had remained hunkered down grading essays at home. Apparently campus had been transformed during my hibernation.

And so, thankful for the longer hours of sunlight, after teaching and meetings today I set out for the campus park with graduate reading and camera in hand. My camera had been aching for use, for life and beauty to capture, after long cold winter months of sparse use. I love how a viewfinder makes me stop to pause and examine and crouch and bend and notice the splash of color here, the angle of a branch there, and the beam of light illuminating both. There are few other moments when worship flows as freely from my heart.

My glee at the chance to capture living things once again is evidenced by the fact that in a period of two hours I took more than 450 shots. Yes, you read that correctly. No, I did not accidentally add a zero. Yes, I will (and already have) trash a great majority. But the camera is my microscope, my lens of examination, my channel of worship and this, this was a very worshipful afternoon.

I was heading home after much shooting, and a little reading, when I became mesmerized by the golden hues of a setting sun on a particular bush. Captivated by the colors and light playing on petals, I leaned in for shot after shot, and then continued on my way.

For some reason, perhaps some whispering in my soul, I turned back as I was leaving. And that’s when I saw it.

Blossoms encased in halos of light.

The warmth of the day’s last rays streaming in.

Each petal perfectly framed, cradled and bathed in radiance.

I had almost missed it, simply because I was looking at the bush from the wrong direction.

How often do I fail to see some beauty, some testimony, some trace of mystery and otherness, only because I fail to consider from the right angle.

For a good long moment I stood just mesmerized.

And then lifted my lens and just shot. The backlight meant I couldn’t see clearly to focus or perfectly pick the settings. And so I just clicked away, eager to capture the gift of the moment.

Here’s hoping spring is creeping into your part of the world as well, and that today you see traces of His fingerprints in the beauty around you. More shots from the afternoon to come!