A fenced path. Steps down to the beach. The sea with the tide on the turn. The horizon and a cloudy sky with enough blue for sunshine. A shadow falling on the path. And on the horizon an offshore wind farm, and boats standing off waiting for harbour, or work.
To stand just here, looking, is to see more than the sum of those obvious observations. I've stood here often, in all kinds of weather, knowing that I can't see what's immediately beneath the steps, let alone what's beyond that line where sea and sky meet. Always there is what is seen and unseen, known and unknown.
What makes this photo more than a nice picture is the presence of mystery, it doesn't show everything. It doesn't take much imagination to see in the long shadow hints of the cross, falling across the path. At the same time, the sun is absent from the photo, except as the light that casts the shadow, but also lights the path.
Oh, I know. Theologians with cameras can over-interpret, even spoil a photo by pointing out what they see, rather than allowing each viewer to draw their own conclusions. Why not just let each person see what they see without the interpretive commentary of that someone who always spoils the play, the music, the novel, the photo, by telling you what to hear and see?
Fair enough. We all have our lives to interpret. Making sense of the world we inhabit, coming to terms with the experiences we live through, understanding ourselves and being present and attentive to who we are - quite literally, that's what life is about.
The path we walk, the steps we take without knowing quite what will be there when we get there, new horizons where sand meets sea, and sea merges with sky, and yes, both shadow and sunshine; a metaphor for life?
Perhaps. But if life is a box of chocolates according the Forest Gump, perhaps it can also be a photo, one with multiple horizons, shadows and sunlight, seen and unseen, and the presence of mystery that keeps us from ever thinking we have life, the world, ourselves, and even God, sussed out.
The clouds in the photo remind me of favourite words from The Cloud of Unknowing, perhaps as good a place as any to leave this:
"Strike that thick cloud of unknowing with the sharp dart of longing love, and on no account whatever think of giving up…A naked intention directed to God, and himself, alone, is wholly sufficient…So lift up your love to that cloud. Or, more accurately, let God draw your love up to that cloud…"
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