Organic Light Pan

I will have more to say about this moon in the days to come.  It was an amazing sight to see this moon.  Not the youngest I have seen but certainly one of the thinest.  It marks the beginning of the third month in the Islamic Calendar, Rabi Al-Awwal and is also the month in which the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, was born.  This year it also coincided with the beginning of the Chinese New Year.

Rabi Al-Awwal 1432

So Rabi Al-Awwal Mubarak to all my Muslim readers and Happy Chinese New Year to all my Asian readers.  It is a good time.

Peace.

In 1945 on this day in a small mountain village in Syria a little girl as born late at night. Little did anyone know that her soul would have repercussions almost half way around the world for longer than her life would even allow.

She was the second born of five siblings and her mother died when she was only 9 years old. Her mother left my mother to care for her younger brother, two youngest sisters and her father. That ended her ability to any education while she spent her days learning how to cook and maintain her family’s home. At about the same time a few villages away a young man prepares to leave for America. The son of an immigrant who first immigrated to the United States in the late 1800’s and worked for Ford Corporation on the Model T, the Columbus Cast Iron Stove Company and running his own shoe repair shop and becoming a naturalized citizen before finally returning to Syria to get married and have 9 of his own children. This young man came to America as on a U.S. Passport as he and all his siblings were registered as American citizens at birth by their father.

Ten years later he returns to Syria successful with his own landscaping business to find that little 9 year old girl is now a beautiful young woman and asks for her hand in marriage. They were married and he returns to the States to prepare for her arrival. A few months later she is on her way as well, not knowing how to read or write or speak any language other than Arabic. She boards a flight for Paris France that is delayed and so she misses her connecting flight for the U.S.. The airline puts her up for the night in a hotel but forgets to get her in the morning and so she has to wait another day. All the while she is frightened and does not know who to talk to nor could she even if she could. The next morning the airline representative that comes to get her just happened to be a Lebanese man who speaks to her and finds out she hasn’t eaten anything in two days. Before she boards the plane this gentleman takes her to the hotel restaurant and makes sure she gets a meal she would eat and finally puts her on her flight.

Once in the United States, my father gathers her up at LAX and they make their way to a small rented home in North Hollywood. A year later I was born.

She brought with her an old world tradition of cooking everything from scratch and growing your own food on your own land. My two parents did just that.

My Father, God rest his soul, passed away in a work related accident when I was 11 years old. My mother took his death very hard and almost did not make it but after a year my mother and two brothers were back on our own. She raised three boys single handed and through it all managed to keep us in line free from all the troubles that three boys could get into.

My mother was a generous soul and found solace in cooking and feeding people. Never did family or friends visit that they did not leave our home with either home grown fruit or vegetables or some home cooked food in their arms. She was most famous for her Syrian Bread. If we had the wherewithal we should have opened for her a bakery, but nonetheless, the legend of her hearty bread still lives on in my family. My mother, God rest her soul, passed away in 2003 after battling ovarian cancer for 3 years. Her passing broke our family’s heart. She was the healthiest living person we knew, it boggles our minds to this day how this evil disease found its way into her.

On this day, in honor of my mother’s birthday I pulled out her secrete bread recipe and did my best to replicate her famous bread. I was about 90% successful.  Although it tasted the same I think I was a little short on water as the dough did not have the same pliable texture that she showed me when she taught me how to make it.

My Hand at Mom's Bread

As the bread’s aroma filled the house my kids came streaming into the kitchen recalling their grandmother’s kitchen.  So for the love of my dear mother, who saved my soul in ways that I cannot even express, this post and the bread that I made today goes out to her.  I love you Mom!

To all my readers, honor your mother today, if she is still alive or has parted from this world, honor her.  She has done more for you than you can possibly imagine.

Peace.

Last night a celestial event occurred in our sky that has not happened in 372 years.  The Earth eclipsed the full moon on the winter solstice and for those fortunate enough to be in an area in North America with clear skies they saw a truly amazing and awe inspiring sight.

In Earth's Shroud

While there are some that feel that certain astronomical events have an influence on the behavior of humanity and other natural events, as a man of science I must say that such a belief is a bit incredulous as proof is hard to establish.  While at the same time, as a man of faith, belief in the dominion of the Creator over all of creation is central in my understanding of how the universe exists, how it is sustained and how it behaves.

In a sacred tradition of the Prophet Muhammad (peace and blessing of God be upon him) said one morning after the dawn prayer that occurred after a rainy night, turned to the congregation and said “Do you know what your Lord has revealed?” The people replied, “God and His Apostle know better.” He said, “God has said, ‘In this morning some of my slaves remained as true believers and some became non-believers; whoever said that the rain was due to the Blessings and the Mercy of God had belief in Me and he disbelieves in the stars, and whoever said that it rained because of a particular star had no belief in Me but believes in that star.’ “

A passage in the Qur’an describes the motion of the sun and the moon and through implicit understanding so too the Earth and all visible objects in the heavens.  Each of these celestial bodies follow and obey what we in science refer to as physical laws which we understand and know how they dictate the motions of the heavenly bodies.  However, those of us who go beyond science and have some knowledge of the Knower understand that these laws are not merely physical, but Divine.

When I see an event like an eclipse, my heart is in awe of the power of the Incomparable for not only setting such beauty into place but sustaining it as well.  The skill to capture it and present it to others is a gift that I am aware of and grateful to posses.  I have searched the web today for photos of last night’s eclipse and while there some nice images, I did not find one that moved me in the same way as seeing it in person.  I hope what I have presented above will do that for some.  Enjoy.

Peace.

Last month while in the Yosemite Valley photographing the autumn color I had an opportunity to eat at the Yosemite Lodge Food Court. In years past the food was just shy of being unbearable. However this year there was something different about the food, it was actually good. The cooks are now sensitive to what the patron wants and I am sure almost everyone’s taste and diet could probably be accommodated.

On my first morning there for breakfast I had a bowl of oatmeal. Nothing so fancy about oatmeal, in fact it is a very bland food. I have been eating oatmeal for breakfast at home for years. In my oatmeal, once cooked, I add a pat of raw cultured butter, a little salt, a handful of fresh or frozen blueberries, a little raw whole milk mix it all in and then top it off with a little real maple syrup. The aroma is always pleasing and one bowl very satisfying and gives me the energy I need for at least 6 hours. I thought my oatmeal was good until that first breakfast at the food court this year.

The oatmeal I was eating that morning was different, it had texture and consistency and more importantly it had some bite to it. I started to wonder why my oatmeal at home was not like this. My oatmeal, although loaded with all wholesome toppings, left me somewhat unsatisfied. I then realized that the problem was in the oatmeal itself. For years I had resorted to using instant or quick cook oatmeal, you know, the just add hot water kind of oatmeal. The resulting oatmeal was thin and almost paste like. Chewing it was optional and eating it took nearly no time at all. So when I returned this year from Yosemite I purchased regular rolled oats and proceeded to make better oatmeal.

It turns out that you only need three ingredients to make great oatmeal, well actually four. Rolled oats, water, salt and time. The recipe is simple: 1 and 1/2 cups of water brought to a boil, 1/8 of a teaspoon of salt, and 1 cup of rolled oats. Add the oats to the boiling water and bring the oats to a boil and reduce the heat to low. Continue to stir until the water is absorbed and cooked away to give the consistency desired. Now my oatmeal has that bite that I so enjoyed that morning in Yosemite and now my oatmeal is not only good, its great!

So the other day I was thinking about how I make my oatmeal now. My process is no longer automatic. I no longer rely on the manufactured quickness of my instant oatmeal packs. I use three simple ingredients, oats, water and salt, and then give it some time. It then hit me that photography is really nothing more than three simple parameters as well and a little time: aperture, shutter, and film or sensor sensitivity. The automatic cameras of today take all those three basic parameters out of your hands and give you quick instant photos that are good, but are they great?

What if you reclaimed control of your camera and decided for yourself what the aperture, shutter and ISO sensitivity should be for your photography? What if you slowed down long enough to determine how much light was available so that you could determine how long to leave that shutter open and render the desired density of light on your film or sensor to your liking. What if you examined the scene sufficiently so that you could determine how much texture and how much creaminess resulted in your photo by choosing the aperture properly. What if you had the final decision as to how sensitive the sensor or film is so that you could control the graininess of your imagery. Do you think your photos would move from being good to being great? I do. I would like you too as well. Give it a try, you have nothing to lose, literally. And if you need some help in doing that, let me know.

The Stage

Last week on Veteran’s Day I was not scheduled to teach anywhere as most schools close for that day.  I waited patiently as I watched my online schedule for any last minute additions.  When 6 pm rolled around and nothing showed up, I made a snap decision to return to Yosemite Valley to catch the last bit of autumn color in the Valley.

I gather up my entourage of four kids and packed up a day lunch, water and some warm clothing and we hit the road.  Four hours later we found our selves playing in the remnant snow at 6000 feet elevation around Crane Flat from the storm that passed through a few days earlier.  Once the fingers on my children’s hands had sufficiently numbed we continued on our way dropping down in to the Valley.  All four were now very excited to be in the mountains once again.  As we rounded the bend on Highway 120 leading down to the first view of El Capitan and Half Dome, my youngest son suddenly exclaims, “I have found my dream girl!” With astonishment the rest of the kids look at him in wonderment asking what in the world he is talking about.  I had an inkling about what he meant and then he clarified his statement to the rest confirming my thoughts.

He said “the Earth is a girl right?  We do call her Mother Earth.  She is beautiful. She never complains.  She feeds us and gives us to drink.  And she is always ready to accept us when we want to play.  She is my dream girl”

Well my son, mine too…mine too.

Dream Girl

Wish You Were Here

The first full day of photography has come to a close.  After 12 hours in the field we can finally take some rest.  It rained on us, the wind blew a bit, and the sun even shined on us a few times.  Through it all we kept the shutters blazing and the film burning and pixels popping, we could not have asked for better conditions.

Tunnel View Morning

The rain that fell today was not substantial, more actually fell over night and we awoke to a wonderland of saturated color.  The day started out somewhat dull at Tunnel View, and when we arrived about half an hour before sunrise there were few people there.  Within three or four clicks of our shutters, suddenly the place was overrun by nearly 50, yes 50 photographers!  It was getting a bit crowded and since the sun had risen and the light difficult to capture, we decided to move on to the color before everyone else did.  That was a good move.

Color!

We worked here until our stomachs said “feed me” so we took a break to power up and then we continued on our search for color which took us into the Ansel Adams gallery first.  There we looked at some amazing photography from Ansel Adams as well as some stunning work by others, the most impressive of which came from photographer Charles Cramer.

We then made our move into the El Capitan Meadow where the sun played hide and seek with us and won, as we could catch its rays to our satisfaction.

Moving on we found ourselves working along the Merced River where we not only found some amazing color among the Dogwoods, but they were showered in the sweetest warm light that just rendered the trees into something that I can only describe as delectable.

Sugar Coated for your Eyes

We worked there until we could no longer see through the camera viewfinder and headed back into the valley.  As we approached our lodge, we saw the slightest hint of twilight still dancing in among the the clouds and decided it was worth the effort to make one more photo.  I am glad we did.  The camera can sometimes see much better than we can.

Last Dance

So for another night, I bid you good night and Wish You Were Here!

Peace.

The Gates to Happy

Finally here again after two years.  Yosemite Valley has to be the happiest palce on Earth.  As soon as you drop into the valley and move past the Merced River and over Pohono Bridge the colors of autumn in the valley enthrall your eyes. Then as you meander along the gentle road passing through big leaf maple groves and sugar pine the grandeur of the largest monolithic piece of granite in the world greets you and your heart skips a beat in the shadow of its greatness before it settles into a state of tranquility certain in the fact that you are now home.

I will be posting each evening over the next few nights on what I find here this time around.  Stay tuned, the happy can only get better!

I am not sure how to begin this entry.  I feel melancholy and wonder why.  Every month when the new moon returns, I prepare myself to go out with the hope of seeing it and photographing it once more.  If nothing else, the endeavor reconnects me with the heavens and the Earth.  I am looking forward to it this month, as this moon will not have the fan fare associated with the start of Ramadan or with that of Eid.  It will be a quite trip, a trip of and for the heart, a return to the beginning.  Almost twenty years ago, in the very month of October, I captured my very first moon in a photograph.

First Crescent

It was not the best of photos, but it did capture the moon, one of the youngest I have ever had the good fortune to capture.  Since that time I have seen many moons and have discovered a beauty that is rarely seen.  The new crescent moon, like many things in nature, is a hidden pearl.  I marvel at how the most valuable of things in the world are hidden and require immense effort to acquire them.  Take for example the pearl, a small iridescent orb of crystalline calcium carbonate formed over years inside an oyster or other mollusk deep underwater in the sea.  To find it naturally is quite rare, at least these days, and I cannot fathom how it was even first discovered.  To retrieve a pearl requires great effort in diving down under water tens of feet if not more, wrenching an oyster off the ocean floor, bringing it to the surface and then wrestling open the oyster with the hope that it might contain a single glowing pearl.

There is however, a deep wisdom behind this.  For as soon as something of value is discovered, the greed to own as much of it as possible soon follows, and in the wake of that greed much destruction takes place.  I have often pondered on notoriety and obscurity, asking myself which is best.  If we allow ourselves the license to follow the ego, we will strive for notoriety, for the ego always wants to be known, even if it results in its own demise.  Logic would have it, on the other hand, that obscurity is the more prudent path to follow as it will afford one much protection and desiring that protection will always keep a person safely tucked away behind the veil that conceals who they are.  However, before we all go off to hide in our shells we must understand that the hidden pearls are of no benefit if they remain hidden and revealing them and giving them the notoriety they deserve helps spread their benefit to everyone.

Discovering hidden pearls over the years with a camera in hand and sharing them with others has been both a joy and a disappointment. I find great joy in sharing my photos and more so when those who look are overjoyed with them as well.  As we gaze upon what is depicted in the photos we feel a connection with the Earth that brings all of us closer together.  A sense of wonderment and, in some respects, a longing to see in person the same thing as that shown in the photograph develops and with that the wanderlust takes over and  suddenly my audience become my companions in the field.  All of us searching, seeing and falling in love with the Earth and what she gives us, to the extent that the Earth becomes a priceless treasure, in-expendable and worthy of protection.

Obscurity

Unfortunately, as with many hidden treasures, most people are clueless to their worth until they are elevated to notoriety.  In fact, the true treasures of this world live in obscurity for their whole existence with very few ever finding them and fewer yet benefiting from what they give the world.  Although I relish finding and benefiting from the hidden pearls of the world it also brings me much disappointment that more people do not garner for themselves the benefits at hand.

We need to find some hidden pearls for ourselves and drink in the value they posses to enrich our lives then share what you gleaned from them with others in the hope that we can all come to appreciate and value them.  The pearls you find might be other people, or something in nature like a tree or an animal.  Maybe the pearls you find are the words of a poem or a song, or possibly even the precious shining moments of life when they flash before our eyes.  Whatever they might be, they must be found, valued and shared so that we can all come to cherish what we have in the world.

As I said at the start of this post, I’ll be heading out in a couple of days to search for my hidden pearl, the new crescent moon, and soon thereafter, I will return to the mountains to find the veiled autumn color that glows in obscurity.  I invite you all to tag along if you wish.  Just let me know.

Peace.

The sun set in silence on the western horizon.  There was a slight breeze that caressed the face.  Suddenly a sliver of light emerged in the sky and the month of Mercy began.  Without fanfare or pomp, the month of Ramadan entered into our lives once again bringing with it the promise of great tidings.  It is a month in which the Prophet Muhammad, peace and blessings of God upon him, said “Its first ten days are a mercy, its second ten days are forgiveness and its third ten days freedom from the punishment of hellfire”.

With the ushering in of the crescent moon, the days of mercy begin wherein we slow down, unplug from the madness of the modern world, look within ourselves and find the shortcomings that need rectification and head down that path holding on to the Rope of God in constant remembrance with the hope of becoming better than we are.  Ten days for a settled heart, a calm mind, and a peaceful soul to find the solace they need to regenerate a beleaguered body back to its spiritual and physical center.

This month brings with it many blessings , too many to enumerate, too many to even know.  It is a classroom in ‘time’ that gives us the opportunity to focus on the improvement of ourselves, to strenghten the bonds of freinds and family and to reconnect with the community at large.  This opportunity comes but once a year and not taking full advantage of it, leaves one longing to see it again, with no certainty of ever making back.  Make use of this month to garner all that you can.  These first ten days, are for you to re-engage with your Lord.  So lets get to it.

Peace.

Ramadan 1, 1431

The other day my son and I were attending a lecture. The topic was on the blessings we have in our life that we don’t normally think about. In the last year I have had many reminders of the blessings we don’t think about on a regular basis and it’s only when we lose a blessing that we realize what we actually had. So in this lecture, the presenter asked everyone to think of a blessing that we have that we normally do not think about. Someone mentioned trees. Now don’t get me started on trees, (as Trees are the Answer).  The presenter then started to enumerate all of the blessings that we get from trees, with the help of the audience giving additional suggestions; They give us oxygen, they consume carbon dioxide, they provide shade, they provide food and the list went on.

Later that day, I decided that it was time to fire up the grill and have a good ‘ol summer barbecue with the family.  Especially after spending a good portion of our summer so far cooped up in the house under quarantine so as not to infect the world with whooping cough.  So as I normally do, I made the call to the kindling brigade, my kids, who sprang into action gathering up twigs, sticks, pine needles and the like to help get the fire started.  Only this time the task seemed to have been completed much quicker than normal.

I went outside to find next to the barbecue a large pile of fine twigged branches.  On asking where they found these and my oldest son said from the dead birch tree.  He had taken a large stick and trashed some of the lower branches of one of the White Birch trees in our backyard.  I showed my displeasure with that and reminded him of the lecture that we had just attended.  He looked at me and said, “Well, this tree is dead, it has already given us all the blessings it can from its oxygen and shade, and so this is its last blessing, its wood, which will help nourish us by cooking our food on the flames it will produce.”  His statement floored me.

We used to have three of these beautiful trees in our yard.  Two winters ago, during a very strong storm, one was toppled over, leaving its two companions to live on.  Then some time last year the second tree lost its leaves and never grew new ones.  It still stands although just as a skeleton of its former self.

Upon hearing my son’s comment, I really started to ponder about the benefits we get from these delicate and lovely trees.  So I pulled out the camera, as I have done numerous times before trying to capture the essence of these stark white trunks against the dark green leaves in summer or vibrant yellows in autumn and started to photograph them again.  Only this time there was a deep connection with them.  They were more than just trees.  They were companions, helpers in my journey to my own end.

What started out as an intention for a couple of snapshots turned into something much more profound for me. I moved from photographing the detail of the leaves and trunk to how these trees bask in the sun, taking in the glorious light and making their own food from it. What brought this lovely tree to its demise will be a mystery forever I suppose and the question that begets me is will the last standing tree suffer the same fate as its sisters?

Standing as a mere skeleton now, the dead birch has but a few branches left, luckily out of the reach of my over ambitious son in search of kindling. But nonetheless, its branches and twigs are much appreciated as they did most certainly kindle the fire that cooked our meal that evening. As I snapped the dried branches and piled them into the barbecue, I never once realized the blessing we have in the left over wood from dead trees. It just never seemed to register. We don’t see that wood as a tree anymore, but it was a tree.

Simple twigs and sticks, not much at all to look at or to even ponder about, but it is from those simple little things that great results emerge.  A small spark, a flame, and the next thing you know you have a roaring blaze that brings warmth and the energy to cook our own food.  For tens of years, that tree stood absorbing the energy from the sun, making its own sugar as food through photosynthesis allowing itself to grow.  Each year adding more girth to its trunk and branches, producing shade giving leaves and then shedding them to the ground where they became the mulch and soil that the tree itself needed to remain firm and steadfast in the ground.  A cycle that continued until The Sustainer decided that it was time for this tree to stop, and the cycle was broken.  However the benefits continue.  For now, locked in its wood, the accumulated years of energy lies dormant waiting for that small spark to ignite the wood and release it for one more final blessing.

The coals that evening were particularly mild.  Hot enough to cook on, but with no scorching and very few flares that tend to char the food.  The coals themselves originating from hardwood trees themselves also finally gave their last blessing as well.  The entire evening was riddled with final blessings right and left.  For not only did these trees give us what they could in cooking our food, so too did the chickens whose meat we were about to cook, and the grains of Bulghur wheat, tomatoes and onions that were stewing on the stove, all giving us their last blessing as well.

I think we fail to realize that we are the end users of everything on this planet, from the air we breath, to the water we drink to the food we consume, to all the other natural resources that we use for our survival, comfort and gain.  How should we feel as the benefactors of all these blessings?  Do we feel gratitude?  Do we feel a sense of shame in front of The Bestower who gives us these blessings and we do nothing in return, not even giving thanks?  Do we feel any responsibility at all in returning the good we have received by doing good to others and to our world?  I shudder when I think of all the blessings I have in my life, for my benefit, for my comfort and gain, and I go heedless in life not realizing that all I do is take and give nothing in return.

The meal that night was fantastic.  We all ate to our fill and to our satisfaction, and in some part wishing that we still had more for later.  The benefit from that meal has already passed through our bodies, but what we learned from it, what we can give back because of it can go on for a very long time.  I am going to be more cognizant of the blessings I have and will make more of an effort to give back to the world at least some portion of the good that I have taken from it.  I invite all of you to do the same, so that in times to come, others might say of us what we can say now of the blessings we have.

Peace.