XXXIII : An Awakening
A few weeks prior to the publishing of this essay, I turned 33. And for my birthday, I decided to take a photo trip down to the mountains of West Virginia. I try to take a few (photo trips) every year to take time to focus and recenter myself. For me, the day-to-day grind of life eventually builds up a “spiritual callus” of sorts. A toughened layer that is formed from repeated wear and tear with the purpose of protecting the vulnerable substance underneath. And much like a callus on the palm of your hand, while it may offer some protection, when it becomes thick enough, you begin to lose feeling. The same seems to happen to my soul as well. It happens so gradually that I am eventually unable to fully tap into my spirit. I become jaded, uninspired, and begin to lose feeling. I lose the sense of touch within myself. So my solution as of late is to take these photo trips. This time alone in nature acts as a sort of “spiritual pumice stone,” an “emotional emery board,” gradually shedding away the protective layer revealing what’s underneath once again. In order to gain some understanding and perspective, I need to gain some distance. I need to get away from the noise and influences of the world and meditate on the time that has passed before. To spiritually and creatively “get my bearings,” if you will. Although I didn’t go into this trip with the intention of gaining anything specific, it ended up becoming one of the most rewarding and profound photo trips yet. A journey full of peace, catharsis, and personal revelations.
(The entrance to the Monongahela National Forest, and the beginning of my trip)
With each mile driven, every step taken, and every shutter clicked, I felt more of the callus shed away. I noticed the ability to truly feel beginning to return. I know this because there were moments when I either put the camera away or neglected to even bring it out in the first place. Putting emphasis on enjoying the moment, I would just sit and stare. Using all my senses, I would stop and take in the world around me. I could smell the sweet humid air, feel the warm sun on my skin, hear the familiar and unfamiliar songs of the birds, taste the tart earthiness of the not-quite-ripe wild blueberries, and see the soft light caress the trees and hills before me. Moments like these, unfortunately, become rare for me when I am home going through the day-to-day motions. All too often, I find myself just trying to find respite from the anxious “noise” that bombards me most of the day. But as I progress in this craft, I find myself taking these moments more and more often; at home and while on these trips. Where I used to frantically use every minute of perfect light scrambling around in a panic trying to make as many good images as possible, this time I found myself calm and relaxed, slowing down and focusing on just a few images and using the rest of the time to relax and take in the moment. I think this is a sign of personal growth for me? I think it is a sign of confidence in my abilities and my work as well? Whatever the case, I found myself more focused on taking in the moment rather than getting photographs, and it feels like I’m breaking through to a deeper layer of my creativity.
Although I am quite the extrovert and love being around people, as an empath, that constant and usually forced interaction wears me down and leaves me feeling drained and burnt out. When I am alone on these trips, there are times when I realize I haven’t uttered a word for days; albeit apart from the voice monologuing in my head. I eventually find myself seeking out interaction, striking up a conversation with strangers at an overlook as we all wait for sunrise, or probing the bartender at the local brewery for some nearby hidden gems. These interactions are interesting because they are opportunities for me to decide how I talk about myself. These people generally don’t know me from Adam, so I really have nothing to lose. It takes the pressure off and lets the impostor syndrome fade a bit. This particular trip I found myself speaking in a way that I usually don’t: confidently. I found myself proudly (but not too proudly of course) informing those who inquired that I am “a nature and landscape photographer from Pennsylvania,” most of whom already could tell from the camera and tripod slung over my shoulder or propped up in front of me as I framed a composition. Oddly enough, I even ran into a family from my hometown. After a quick chat, they asked if I had a website, which I gladly directed them to; something that I would typically be apprehensive to do out of lack of belief in my work.
Another interesting interaction happened at the very end of the trip. I chose to make the short hike out to a familiar overlook and treat myself to a beer with a view. I wanted to make a toast to myself for a year of progress and growth, and to the next year to come. I found myself alone when I reached the overlook, but soon after a group of younger folks joined me. As they admired the view and scrambled on the precarious outcroppings, I enjoyed my beer. Filled with a sense of calm and gratefulness, I decided to pull out my polaroid and snap a quick frame of the scene. As I put the camera back in my camera bag, one of the guys in the group asked if I was a photographer. As we struck up a conversation, he informed me that he is from Alberta, Canada, and that this is actually his first time in the States. He came down to stay with American friends, and they spent the week giving him a tour of the area. He asked if I could show him some of my photos, which I did. I was delightfully surprised at his gasps of approval towards my photography, and instead of brushing off his compliments, I graciously accepted them with many “thank yous.” Before I parted ways, I told him, “when your phone gets service again, look me up on Instagram or check out my website,” which I showed him, “and please reach out. I would love to send you a print commemorating your first trip to the States!” I really do hope he reaches out, but even if it doesn’t happen, the interaction will still hold significance to me. It will remain a special moment where I not only allowed myself to be proud of my work, but a moment where I confidently spoke about myself as a professional. Whereas previously I spoke about my photography as a hobby, I have recently been changing that language in order to take this more seriously. I think I’ve been holding myself and my work back by not speaking about it with purpose and confidence. By denying myself the intention of growth.
(The view from Lindy Point, where I made a toast to myself)
While I have never fully subscribed to the unconventional “woo woo” type of beliefs, I will say that the ideas of manifestation, the law of attraction, and the self-fulfilling prophecy have been real factors in my life recently. The more I lean into these ideas, the more I put that energy out into the universe, the better I talk about myself, and the kinder I am to myself, the more things seem to just happen. The more opportunities arise. The more I develop my craft. The more I seem to “unlock” more of my creativity. This progress becomes a powerful force, and the momentum is encouraging; propelling me forward exponentially with each milestone and revelation. Of course, I know this is not permanent and that there will be peaks and valleys, but for the time being, I will take advantage of the energy surrounding me.
(Various waterfalls from Blackwater State Park)
Speaking of “woo woo,” out of curiosity, I decided to do a little research into the number, or the idea of “33.” I wanted to see if this energy I have been receiving is reciprocated elsewhere, and much to my surprise, it is. So apparently in Numerology (gotta be honest, I’m not sure I was familiar with this term before now haha) 33 is a “Master Number” or “Master Teacher” and symbolizes compassion, guidance, and inspiration. And apparently, those who resonate with this number are often empathetic, compassionate, and are in touch with their spiritual self. Furthermore, it also promotes creativity and expression, encouraging you to embrace your artistic side. Not gonna lie, that was a pretty cool finding, but now for the kicker: “33” also suggests that you realize you have wisdom to share and are meant to guide and teach others… Ok, maybe I’m starting to believe this stuff more haha. But in all honesty, I have found myself thinking, writing, or talking about all of these ideas recently. I have been overcoming spiritual struggles, embracing my artistic side, and following that path, and I have been tossing the idea around of becoming a mentor to younger aspiring photographers in my city. Staff from Penn State University (my alma mater) have not only asked me to join the advisory board for the school of my major, but have also asked if I would ever have any interest in coming in and doing talks for the students surrounding the ideas of creativity and making a living as a “creative” in these modern times. Truly humbled by these opportunities, the idea of being a motivating force in someone’s life is incredibly exciting for me. I feel that suddenly I have almost awoken from a 32-year dream and am finally seeing myself for who I really am. It’s been incredibly enlightening so far and I’m excited to continue growing and developing as a person and an artist.
As it turns out, 33 also holds significance in various cultures and religions: according to Wikipedia, 33 is the highest degree one can achieve in the Scottish Rite of Freemasonry. In Chinese culture, many view 33 as suggesting growth, vitality, compassion, and blessings. And in Christianity, it is (generally) believed that Jesus was about 33 years old at the time of his crucifixion. And while that number is sometimes debated, the few years between 30-33 are also said to be the time when Jesus accomplished the most, and performed the most miracles. Now I should take a moment to pause and stress that I am not comparing myself to Jesus or that I am even religious for that matter. But while I don’t claim to be religious (though I was raised as a Christian for the first half of my life), I do believe that Jesus was a real person. He (or at least his persona) is confirmed in so many various texts and cultures that the scientific side of me tends to believe that he did exist in some capacity. I like to think that there was someone who existed “wholly as a force of good,” if only to instill those ideals and hope into others and for generations to come. And while I don’t think that I am out here performing “miracles” by any means, the fact that Jesus accomplished so many significant things in and around the same age as I am is reassuring. I often feel “behind” and that I “wasted my youth,” but this knowledge makes me feel that I do have time to become my best self. To become the best version of myself. To make a difference and to do great things of significance. But unlike Jesus, chances are I will not be crucified for having so much influence (at least I hope not haha). No, the truth is that in all likelihood, I won’t even be recognized. On a macro scale, the majority of the world, of humanity, will never even learn my name or accomplishments. Like a pebble tossed into the ocean, the small ripples I will make in this world will not reach the majority of people. But on the micro scale, maybe, just maybe, by listening to my heart and by pursuing my passions, I can potentially impact a few people around me. Like so many others that have inspired me, I can only hope that I too can maybe be an inspiration for others someday…
(A morning view)
Putting those more “spiritual concepts” aside, I can’t help but wonder if there’s a more scientific reason for this significance I am feeling? Is this just circumstance? Is it just a natural point in our growth and maturity? Is this my “mid-life crisis”? It’s generally accepted that the frontal lobe finishes fully developing around the age of 25 (sometimes taking a bit longer for men), so perhaps this is just a relatively common time that we come to “understand” ourselves having recently gained the capacity to truly do so? I found this article by Time that talks about a study that concluded some interesting results: “A study by Friends Reunited, a British social-networking site, found that 70% of respondents over the age of 40 claimed they were not truly happy until they reached 33.” Also, this article by Independent cites another study with similar results: “Drive and ambition to achieve our life goals peaks at just 33 years of age, according to a study of 2,000 people by Bupa Health – before dropping off. This is the point in life at which we are most motivated and determined to achieve in our careers and families, as well as leading a healthy lifestyle.” So is this all just “normal development”? Is it something more spiritual or “supernatural”? For now, I can’t say for sure, but I like to think that it’s a mixture of it all. Now that my brain has been fully developed for a few years at this point, maybe this afforded me the ability to reflect on my past and figure out who I am? Maybe my mind’s proverbial “toolbox” now has the tools necessary to attempt the job at hand? Maybe that maturity allowed me to also tap into deeper thought and feeling, allowing me to develop spiritually as well? And maybe age just naturally brings with it confidence with the person we are and the skills that we possess? All of these factors seem to come together at the crossroads of maturity, acceptance, and growth. A point in time both spiritual and physical; crossing the realms of the metaphysical and the tangible. The culmination of 33 years of life, manifested into a single moment.
As my time in West Virginia ended, and I began the journey home, I was filled with the unfamiliar feelings of gratefulness and a sense of purpose. Although my body was tired and sore, my soul felt rested and refreshed. Before passing the National Forest sign, I pulled over for one last Polaroid. One last moment to capture. After snapping the photo, I smiled and thought to myself, “I’m proud of you.” As I got into my car, I must admit I was a bit emotional in a bittersweet way. Although there have been several people in my life who have uttered those same words, I can’t say confidently that I have ever said them to myself; I don’t think I’ve ever truly believed them until now. As I read the sign “Leaving Monongahela National Forest,” I couldn’t help but feel that I was also leaving some part of myself behind. That I was leaving some of that baggage behind that I have been carrying around for so long. That I was entering into a new chapter. While the sign marked a physical threshold, it also felt that I was crossing an invisible threshold into the next stage of my life. Like I was entering a new place full of possibilities and wonder. A place that is full of light and passion. Somewhere I can heal and grow. A place that was there all along, but that I couldn’t see. A place that took me 33 years to find. A place just for me.
(The exit of the National Forest, and the final image of the trip)
If you have read this far, I hope that these words can provide some hope and perspective. I hope that this story can inspire you to look within yourself and search for answers to questions you didn’t even know existed. I hope that if you are feeling lost that maybe you can find some similar solace too.
- Cheers
