Stardate 20240820

Day: Summer

It’s Tuesday. I survived the retreat. I did lose my voice, but not completely so we were still able to continue. My first session did not go as well as I’d hoped. I overestimated my audience by planning for undirected discussion, not remembering that I had to train my college students and my movie night crew how to do that.

The second session was better. I explained the logic behind what I was trying to accomplish first. Then I scaffolded by doing the first part together before finally giving them a chance to try it in small groups.

I was not terribly impressed with the content I was teaching, even up to the last session. It was very intellectual, very abstract, very useless. It was true, but it didn’t have any punch. We were talking about our identity as royal priests. On the last day, I felt a need to be alone for a bit, so I went behind the venue for my quiet time. While I was reading, I noticed two goats down on the soccer field.

Deciding to extend my isolation a little bit, I grabbed my camera and went down to get a picture. As I got close, I noticed that they were tangled in the netting of he soccer goal. At that moment, I had a choice—was i going to leave them for someone else to take care of, or would I risk it and try to free them?

Saying a quick prayer that I learned in the Philippines, “Creation welcomes me,” I put down my camera and got to work. The male goat was very tangled. I spoke calmingly to him as I brought the net back and forth over his horns. There was one point that he was so enmeshed, I had to physically pick him up. “Don’t struggle. Shhh.” Finally, I was able to free him. The female was much easier. She was tangled, but I think she could have freed herself if she wasn’t providing moral support for her man.

After releasing them both, I started back to the venue, but the two goats followed me. When I turned back to look, the male walked up to me and bowed before going back to his late breakfast. I turned and started up the stairs and was hit with a blast of God’s presence. “You are my priest.” My spirit staggered under the weight of it. I got back to the venue barely holding it together, but when I entered, I did not see my fellow attendees—I saw God’s sheep. I saw them as he sees them, struggling and and entangled but longing for freedom. I realized the significance of our calling as royal priests. I saw the honor in helping others to untangle the knots in their lives.

In the conclusion, I shared this story with the audience. For some of them, I know they got it; I could see it in their tears. I’m glad I was able to go. I don’t know what anyone else got from the experience, but I know I left better than I came.

This past weekend, I was invited to a retreat center in Hong Kong. I wanted to see if it would be a good fit for the next step in my 40+ journey. So far, I have tried working in an international school, running a photography startup, doing adventure sports excursions, and evaluated a coastal B&B. I fought cancer for a third time, spent a year in the corporate world, and started my own business. I’ve explored almost every channel that has any interest for me, and I’ve learned one thing: we need to slow down.

We need to put down the phone, turn off the computer, and just be present. We need to let nature speak to us, entice us, draw us into the deep places of our soul. We need to enjoy sunshine and conversation without an electronic glow. Nature doesn’t lie. It gives you freedom and works to make you stronger.

My journey has been a bitter struggle, but each day that I refuse to give up is a victory. Each bloody step brings me closer to the person I am meant to be. After grieving my losses, I have finally picked up my camera again. Of all the pictures I have taken this weekend, this one speaks most powerfully to me.

Every day is balancing act. We must choose darkness or light. The future lies before us either way, but the perspective is ours to choose.

Uniquely Human*

My photo project #choosingjoyeveryday was born as an experiment. I used my camera to force myself to focus on something good every day for one hundred days. It is now 1,150 days later, and I have continued to post a picture almost every day. I viewed my role as a redeemer of social media. I wanted my content to provide a counterbalance to the inundation of soul-destroying content available. Most of the images I featured were of things that were either free or very nearly free—a trip to the park, a walk in the woods, a romp on the beach. I wanted to show that happiness is not expensive, that joy is within the reach of anyone who dares to look for it. Joy is not denial of reality—it acknowledges the darkness, but it chooses the light.

My journey has taken me from the initial project with my #gopro Hero 9, to building my skills with my little #sony a5000. After that, I took to the skies when I was blessed with a #DJI Air 2s. For a birthday present, my wife surprised me with my workhorse Sony #a7iii, and recently, when my son was diagnosed with cancer a third time, I was given an #insta360 X4. I have learned how to capture sea and air, large and small, dark and light, fast and slow, but the thing I enjoy capturing most is people. I love capturing those unguarded moments of pure emotion. In each person I see a divine spark that, if I’m patient enough, I can capture with my camera.

But today marks the end of this daily journey. I’ll still be choosing joy, but not daily. In the future, I’ll probably be working on videography as the opportunity arises; but for now, it is your turn to choose joy. You can focus on a little bit of gratuitous beauty and share it with those around you. Good things cannot continue if people do not nurture them. If you’re the kind of person who believes that a glimmer of joy is enough to tip the scales, I pass the baton to you. Thank you for being a part of this journey with me. I hope my photos have served as a ray of light for you through the dark places. If ever you’re feeling low, find one of my old posts and forward it to a friend.

As always, we are #choosingjoyeveryday

IG: choosingjoyinc

This camera has seen many adventures. It has been cooked, dropped from a three story platform, drowned, and hung out of numerous moving vehicles. It has recorded highlights of our family that could be captured no other way—especially since I have two boys who would rather die than pose for a picture. It has been the only camera fast enough to keep up with them. I’ve repaired it more than once, and at present it literally has a bandaid on it to keep water from getting through the punctured power button.

This last trip, I was able to use it on life support to capture the underwater beauty of the Pacific Ocean and the Philippine Sea. I am so grateful for all that this camera represents. Even though its place in my bag is now empty, my GoPro will forever hold a place in my heart.

But nothing happens after that.

At first, I thought it was because my photos were not good enough, but when I changed my perspective and started looking at the website as a buyer rather than a creator, I found a different story.

Picfair is actually designed NOT to sell photos.  That’s right.  There is no marketplace where you can search for images.  The only way to buy images is if you have the specific photographer’s web address, and the only way to get that is for the photographer to self-promote.  The search bar only searches that photographer’s work.  And the only way to spread your work to the community is through the “Focus” articles that Picfair publishes.  But here’s the kicker, the Focus articles highlight the same photographers multiple times or they highlight images from sites that are no longer active, which means:

There is some kind of relationship between the author and the photographers who get promoted.  

Picfair is a stock photography collection hub.  Anything uploaded goes into their database and when you stop paying for the service, they get to use whatever they want.

I have to say that water and sunshine are two of the most healing things in the world for me—photography coming in a close third.  Beneath the surface, my mind clears and my heart slows down.  All of the voices that surround me fade into a dull murmur, and I can just BE.  I’m not one for bulky, expensive gear, but if I could skip breathing, I would.  I can’t wait for the weather to warm up again.

I have spent nearly twenty years in China, and anyone who still remembers me knows that China is a part of me.  Looking back, I don’t know how much my presence has done—what difference I have made—but I have endured.  I have not faded or sold out.  Hardship, illness, and denial have been unable to crush the light that I carry.  If anything, they have focused it.  I chose this picture to be the first because my name means light, and China is where I shine.