Through a Glass Darkly, then Face to Face


It's been two months now, since my return from India. During that time I have been processing all that I saw and felt and the windows of my studio are covered with post its containing words and phrases from my experiences there: chaos, sequins, saris, silk, dust, call to prayer, snake wires, inner worlds, lustrous and my most favorite- the light. A two week sojourn in any place does not make one an expert, but it does provide nourishment for introspection. The words on my windows are a small but powerful metaphor that sums up a great deal about my brief time in 'the land where all things are possible' where I found myself drawn over and over to the windows and doors. Many were old and worn, some historic and majestic, but all of them seemed to witness to the human curiosity to want to know what is behind them, to discover and understand the lives of people in new places and other lands. It seems to me that a journey to another place is much like looking through a window or going through a door. We leave the way we live to experience the way others do and by doing so, open ourselves up individually and to each other. When we come home we are full of tales of how odd or surprising or amazing those other worlds are whether in the next city or state or across the globe and often as not, how very alike. In these tumultuous times, I find that a source of great comfort.

As I close this series of blogs about my trip, I would like to leave you with a last little story. One evening as a guest, I watched two men in front of me heading for the clubhouse after a round of golf. One was Indian, the other American. I knew they had met that day for the first time, as partners for a tournament celebrating the birthday of the club. In India, it is considered an act of trust and friendship for men to hold hands. It is their version of the handshake, only more meaningful and you often see men doing so. As I walked quietly behind these two in the gathering dusk, the men walking along, talking congenially, I saw the Indian reach out and gently clasp the hand of his American partner, who with uncommon understanding, received it without embarrassment. In those quiet moments all three of us were standing at the windows of each other's life, looking in and seeing how much more alike we really are, than different. The simple and beautiful act shared by these two men expressed in deed more than words ever could, the power we all have to create a peaceful world. When I find myself despondent over the future it is to these kinds of memories that I return. Our times are not unique. I don't know if that is necessarily comforting, for don't we wish that life would somehow have improved? But I do believe we are slowly changing for the better. While there are many who believe that differences are to be feared, there are growing numbers who have the courage to reach across with a friendly handclasp or return a smile. Until that day arrives for all of us, little windows such as this sustain my hope for I believe lasting peace begins in our hearts and hands and not on a piece of paper.


Thank you all for letting me share my trip with you. I'll be returning to my regular posting format on Wednesday. I hope you can join me. Until then traveling mercies on all your lives. To see some wonderful last glimpses, please visit the India Photo Journal site to the right.