The Manifestation Process: How Intention, Belief, Action, and Surrender Work

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A contemplative approach to creating change without trying to control the outcome

How do I consciously participate in creating my life while remaining surrendered to a reality larger than myself? Over the years I’ve been intrigued by the topic of “manifestation,” the practice of consciously bringing a goal or desire into reality. Some writers take a psychological approach, which combines focused mental clarity, emotional alignment, and consistent, practical action, rather than passively wishing for outcomes. Others recommend a spiritual practice—stating an intention, cultivating absolute faith that what we desire is already ours—thereby eliminating doubt or feelings of lack—and opening oneself to receive the blessing. Both these approaches have elements that appeal, but I’m not a subscriber to a particular formulation.

However, I strongly believe in belief, which is a necessary component in both approaches. My experience with manifestation was more often unconscious rather than conscious. In other words, there were times when I experienced success using visualization and affirmations. And other times when desirable and undesirable realities showed up without any effort whatsoever. It was only by looking back that I realized there’d been a strong desire for something positive to come into my life. Sometimes it did. Sometimes it didn’t. And sometimes it was accompanied with negative experiences. Perhaps my desire was so deep, so subconscious, it lacked specificity. Be careful what you wish for—you might get it—with “strings.”

Three events precipitated my urge to investigate this topic—a conversation with a friend, noticing the connection between my thinking and unwanted realities that showed up and a chapter in David R. Hawkins book, Letting Go: The Pathway of Surrender, which my daughter handed to me. His recommendation integrates the psychological with the spiritual: envision, see clearly—declare your intention—accept that you already have what you desire—act accordingly—relinquish attachment to the outcome. I especially appreciated his perspective on “wanting,” pointing out that it affirms I don’t have it. His bottom line is a paradox: Choose fully—and then let go; be not attached to outcomes.

There was an experience in the lifestyle department where I had subconsciously chosen fully, often thinking and proclaiming that Linda and I needed to move from our three-story house to a one-floor plan. At the same time I resolved that I didn’t want to move unless it was “absolutely necessary.” So I didn’t take any steps to manifest it.

Linda had a stroke. As a result, I was under tremendous stress for three months, undertaking the house maintenance, finances, shopping, food preparation and making 10-15 trips up and down three floors every day. With our health declining, we needed to move. Our daughter and son-in-law came to the rescue, finding the perfect place for us—an assisted living facility just twenty minutes from their home.

Professional Perspectives

Psychology offers substantial support for some elements of this process, without claiming that thought magically creates external reality. Maxwell Maltz, author of Psycho-Cybernetics, emphasized self-image: visualize the goal, experience yourself as already changed, and take relaxed action. Psychologist Albert Bandura’s work on self-efficacy demonstrated the importance of believing in our capacity to influence events through our actions. And researchers Edwin Locke and Gary Latham found that clear goals direct attention, mobilize effort and increase persistence.

Their approaches differ, but they converge on something important: intention changes the person who is interacting with reality. David R. Hawkins adds the spiritual dimension—act but relinquish emotional attachment to controlling the outcome.

For me, that’s the appeal. It isn’t “thoughts create things,” or making reality obey my will. It’s participating intentionally in life’s unfolding and trusting what comes next. It leaves open—as mystery rather than scientific fact—whether something more is occurring. The approach is alignment rather than control. 

The appeal of these psychological approaches is not “thoughts create things,” making reality obey my will. It’s participating intentionally in life’s unfolding and trusting what comes next. For me, this leaves open the spiritual perspective that “the soul is the doer,” and “God’s will be done.” The approach is alignment rather than control.

No doubt, intention is powerful. It changes attention, motivation, perception, persistence, choices and behavior, and leaves open—as mystery rather than scientific fact—whether something more is occurring.

At the outset I mentioned my strong belief in belief. That’s because I see it as the foundation of intention. And I recognize two kinds—the belief in what’s possible (This can happen), and the belief in oneself (I am capable of participating in making this happen). I see both as being essential components in any manifestation process.

But what about the spiritual traditions that warn against desire? Buddhism offers an important distinction. The problem is not necessarily desire itself, but tanhā—craving or thirst: the grasping sense that “I must have this.” By contrast, chanda can refer to intention, interest or aspiration and, when directed toward what is wholesome, can motivate learning, compassion, service and awakening. The distinction is important: spiritual maturity need not mean wanting nothing. It can mean becoming free from the grasping and attachment that turn desire into suffering.

The Bhagavad Gita offers a similar resolution: act fully and fulfill your dharma but relinquish attachment to the fruits of your actions. Spirituality does not require passivity; it asks us to release our insistence upon outcomes.

Hawkins’ letting go fits naturally here. The crucial question becomes not “Should I have desires?” but “Where does this desire come from?” Fear, insecurity, status, comparison, and acquisition produce one kind of desire. Love, creativity, service, growth, beauty, and inner calling can produce another. A desire can therefore be contemplated rather than automatically pursued or suppressed.

Will also has a legitimate spiritual function. Desire supplies energy; intention gives it direction; will mobilizes and concentrates that energy; action embodies it. The danger comes when will becomes willfulness—the ego’s insistence that reality conform to its demands.

Belief provides the ground of possibility. We are unlikely to move wholeheartedly toward something we fundamentally believe impossible. Belief affects what we notice, attempt, persist in, and become. This gives us a more spiritually mature understanding of manifestation—not control, but co-creation. We listen inwardly, discern what genuinely calls us, bring our human capacities into alignment with it, act wholeheartedly, and then surrender the outcome.

That was helpful. The key is to understand where the desire is coming from—fear? status? insecurity? Or love, service, creativity, beauty, growth or a deep interior calling or aspiration? At the spiritual level I recognize that I am not the ultimate controller. I listen, trust and surrender. Thy will be done. At the human level, I’ve been gifted with imagination, desire, reason, intention, will, creativity, discernment and the capacity to act. It’d be wrong not to use them. Combining again, it’s a matter of co-creation.

So my summary formulation looks like this—

Listen → Discern → Desire → Believe → Intend → Will → Act → Trust → Surrender.

Applying this to my difficulty in sleeping:

Tonight I’m awake. Acceptance: this is what is.
I welcome peaceful, restorative sleep. Intention: this is what I invite.
I create conditions that support sleep. Action: this is how I participate.
I don’t have to make sleep happen. Trust: my body knows how to sleep.
I let go and allow what will be, to be. Surrender: I release the outcome.

In terms of contemplative photography, instead of approaching a landscape or subject asking How can I make this into a beautiful or compelling photograph? I arrive with my gear and aesthetic preferences in an open and receptive mindset, and pay attention to the energy of attraction: Let’s see what will be revealed here? That’s both intention and surrender.

Perhaps the spiritual challenge, then, is not to eliminate desire and will, but to transform them—from instruments of acquisition and control into instruments of participation, service, and growth.

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My other sites:

David L. Smith Photography Portfolio.com

Ancient Maya Cultural Traits.com: Weekly blog featuring the traits that made this civilization unique

Spiritual Visionaries.com: Access to 81 free videos on YouTube featuring thought leaders and events of the 1980s.

Everything Had To Happen

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What one photograph taught me about wonder, interconnectedness, and the miracle of being

Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy.

                          Hermann Hesse

This photograph has followed me for more than sixty years. I’ve often wondered why. It’s only a few young leaves illuminated by a streetlight on a September night in Rochester, New York. Yet every time I return to it, the same question quietly arises…

What had to happen for these leaves to be photographed?

What circumstances that gave rise to them? And what had to happen for me to be wandering the streets of Rochester, New York in the dark, with a 4×5 camera and tripod, looking for something to photograph?

What had to happen? The answer, of course, is EVERYTHING!

Leaves by Lamplight is one of the first photographs I made as a student at RIT (Rochester Institute of Technology), not as an assignment, but attempting to explore how the light without could reveal the light within. I felt that the black and white photographs of masters such as Ansel Adams, Ed Weston and John Paul Caponigro pointed to or evoked sensibilities beyond and deeper than representation. They not only increased my appreciation of subject matter, they helped me see deeper into essences through certain qualities of light and patterns in creation.

Everything since a speck, tinier by far than a grain of sand, dramatically burst forth and expanded to become the cosmos that we know—all of space-time with its invisible fields of energy and clumps of matter, the galaxies, stars and planets including their patterns of organization. Had any one of these events, elements, objects or processes varied even slightly—including my birth and life experiences up until that moment—the tree, the lamppost and the above image would not exist.

According to cosmologist, Brian Swimme, if the rate of the expanding universe had been slower by even a millionth of one percent, it would have collapsed. Conversely, if the universe had expanded faster by even a millionth of a percent it would have expanded too quickly for structures to form. So if the unfolding of the universe had not occurred exactly as it has, this image, the photographer and you the reader would not exist.

It’s a humbling perspective that leads me to appreciate that those of us alive today stand as the pinnacle achievement of the evolutionary process, the result of countless lines of ancestors going back to just a few individuals in Africa more than 40,000 years ago. They and their line survived to reproduce. And we are the result of their success down through the ages. Now, we are the leading edge of the future, determining what we will build and become.

So in this image I see evidence of the perfection and success of being itself—ALL being, as it happened and as it is. Though we humans may be imperfect in our becoming, we and everything around us is perfectly being what it is and doing what it needs to do. Here and now, in and through us, the universe with all its blessings and blemishes is, in us, reflecting upon itself, coming to self-knowledge—the Love that we are—through infinitely diverse and creative expression.

Just as Morning Glory blossoms attract hummingbirds to extend their line, the young leaves on this particular tree in Rochester, New York attracted a young college student many decades ago to stop and notice them. Due to the law of attraction they captured me and in turn I captured them.

Part of the wonder is that, although those leaves are long gone, they are still present and operating in my life—and now, because of their presentation here, beyond it.

No matter how slow the film, Spirit always stands still long enough for the photographer it has chosen.

                        Minor White

Perhaps that’s the deepest wonder of photography: not that we preserve moments, but that moments continue to shape us long after they have passed.

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My other sites:

David L. Smith Photography Portfolio.com

Ancient Maya Cultural Traits.com: Weekly blog featuring the traits that made this civilization unique

Spiritual Visionaries.com: Access to 81 free videos on YouTube featuring thought leaders and events of the 1980s.

Photographing God

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 What a patch of roadside weeds taught me about paying attention.

Bristle Grass (Setaria species)

One of the world’s earliest grains, bristle grass sustained ancient civilizations in Asia, and served as a resilient food source in dry, marginal lands. Today, it serves as forage for livestock and seed for birds. Their hardy growth helps prevent soil erosion and restore degraded ground. It’s also a model plant in scientific research on photosynthesis, drought tolerance and crop improvement.

A weed is a plant whose virtues have not yet been discovered.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

It was near to dusk with the trees casting long shadows—”magic hour.” I had a close-up lens on the camera and it was attached to a tripod. While composing a leaf with the sun raking across it, a voice came from behind asking what I was photographing. Addressing two elderly women, I said, “A leaf—I like how the sun coming from the side enhances the texture of its veins.”

This situation was different. The women stepped off the sidewalk, into the tall grass to get closer. Their genuine interest prompted me to make a very rare decision. I said, “To tell you the truth—I’m photographing God.” “Really?” one woman replied. There was wonder in her voice, not skepticism. “I knew you were doing something special,” the other woman added.

“Years ago,” I explained, “I self-published a photography book called Weeds: God by the Side of the Road. Photography helps me to see God in all things.” Pressing me, I told how I used to walk by thousands of of weeds, barely noticing them until I singled one out to photograph in my basement studio.

I told how black and white film, a black background and especially controlled lighting helped to bring out their features. One woman likened my approach to a painter she knew. The other wanted to know where she could get my book. I gave her the website. “What I learned,” I said, “my appreciation of commonplace plants—and their diversity— increased tremendously just by paying attention to them as them as individuals. And in the process of researching their names, I learned their unique contributions to human well-being.

Milkweed

Indigenous people considered milkweed a source of medicine, food and fiber. It’s silky floss was used as insulation and later stuffed into life jackets during World War II. Ecologically, it’s indispensable as the sole host plant for monarch butterfly larvae and a rich nectar source for countless pollinators. Its deep roots help restore soils and prevent erosion, and its fibers and natural compounds are being studied for sustainable textiles, biofuels and medical uses.

Pokeweed

Native to North America, Pokeweed was used by indigenous peoples and rural communities for medicine, dye and even food. Its young shoots, carefully prepared, were eaten as “poke sallet,” a spring green of both nourishment and ritual. Its deep purple berries have long been used as a natural dye and ink, including in early American writing, and it serve as food for birds and wildlife. Today, it’s studied for its antiviral and cancer-fighting compounds, showing promise in modern medicine.

Burdock

Burdock, with its prickly burrs that cling stubbornly to clothing and fur, has long been used in traditional medicine across Europe and Asia. Its roots and seeds were valued for purifying the blood, supporting digestion and treating skin ailments. In Japan, burdock root (gobo) remains a nutritious and popular food, rich in fiber and antioxidants. Its burrs inspired the invention of Velcro when a Swiss engineer studied its natural hook-and-loop design. The plant also provides nectar for pollinators and food for wildlife, reminding us that even the most tenacious weed can nourish, heal and spark human innovation.

Johnsongrass

 Originally from the Mediterranean and introduced to the U.S. in the 1800s as a forage crop, Johnsongrass grows vigorously, offering abundant fodder for cattle when properly managed. Its deep roots help to hold and enrich soils, and its fast growth provides quick ground cover on eroded or disturbed land. Researchers have studied its potential as biofuel, because it produces high biomass under poor conditions. Though it spreads aggressively and demands respect, this hardy grass embodies resilience and productivity, showing how even a troublesome plant can serve human and ecological needs.

Teasel

With its spiny flower heads and tall, prickly stalks, teasel is often dismissed as a nuisance along roadsides and fields, yet it has served humans for centuries. In Europe, the dried seed heads were once indispensable in the textile industry, used to raise the nap on woolen cloth, giving fabrics their softness and sheen before metal tools were invented. Medicinally, teasel root has been valued in folk remedies, particularly in Chinese and European traditions, for supporting joints and circulation. Its striking flower heads are also beloved by pollinators, and in winter they feed finches and other birds with their seeds.

Nettle

This plant stings the skin, so it’s often cursed as a plant to avoid—yet few weeds have served humans more generously. For millennia, nettle has been harvested as a highly nutritious spring green, rich in iron, protein and vitamins, often sustaining communities after long winters. Its fibers were spun into cordage and cloth in Europe long before flax and cotton, and its roots and leaves have been used in herbal medicine for inflammation, allergies and blood health. Nettle enriches soils with minerals drawn from its deep roots and provides food for butterflies and other insects. It serves as a reminder that life’s stings can conceal deep blessings.

Socially

The process of photographing dozens of individual plants reminded me that—

we best discover the virtues of other people by getting to know them as persons.

Observing them in “clumps,” it’s easy to ignore, categorize, devalue or otherwise see others as a threat in some way, particularly when they’re different from us. Rather than considering plants or people as commonplace, peripheral to our interests or a nuisance, I remember that life takes multiple forms for survival and growth. All living beings are unique, precious and beautiful. And needed.

Every living system—plant, animal, human, society—expresses an outer form for reasons that are not always evident. What is known, however, is that each individual, as a member of a greater whole (species), is endowed with “life,” inner animated being. However simple or complex the form or consciousness, it emanates from the same Source.

The next time you pass a patch of weeds, resist the temptation to see only a clump.

Pay attention to just one. Look closely.

Learn its name. Discover its gift.

Then ask yourself: If this overlooked plant contains so much unexpected beauty and purpose…what overlooked person might be waiting for someone to truly see them?

If we are to direct evolution… we have to find an appropriate moral code to guide our choices. It should be a code that… specifies right as being the unfolding of the maximum individual potential joined with the achievement of the greatest social and environmental harmony.

Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, Psychologist

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For more of these photographs: my self-published book is  Weeds: God By The Side Of The Road. (Click on the book, expand the screen and turn the pages).

My other sites:

David L. Smith Photography Portfolio.com

Ancient Maya Cultural Traits.com: Weekly blog featuring the traits that made this civilization unique

Spiritual Visionaries.com: Access to 81 free videos on YouTube featuring thought leaders and events of the 1980s.

When Becoming Becomes Being

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A quiet morning revealed the difference between doing and simply being

In the wee small hours of the morning, while the whole wide world is fast asleep… 

The rain has stopped. The streets are fresh and warm. The sky is clear. The day begins to form…

The opening lyric to these favorite songs conveys the sensibility of this exceptional morning.

I’m not a morning person. Never have been. While the prospect of greeting the sunrise, having a full and healthy breakfast and feeling the start of a new day is appealing, it hasn’t been enough to satisfy my body’s need for sleep. And I relish the quiet of late nights.

This morning was different. At 5:30 I got up, put on my robe and had a couple strawberries and two Graham crackers with peanut butter. Unusual. Even more so, after raising the window blinds, settling into my recliner, watching wispy-pink clouds drift by and noticing the stillness of the trees, I suddenly realized: I hadn’t even anticipated the day.

No checking emails, formulating plans or recalling concerns; no deciding whether or not to take a shower; not a thought about the date, tomorrow or the future; didn’t even notice my open schedule book. Most unusual! Their absence, the low light and quiet combined to produce the experience of both inner and outer peace.

I’m generally a peaceful person, equanimity is a primary value. I’ve experienced the “peace that passeth understanding—or close to it. But this wasn’t that. “Contentment” comes to mind, but this was different yet. Reflecting on it now, “beingness”—beyond “presentness”—is a better word for it. And that calls up its corollary—”becoming.” The former represents the static state of what is, while the latter references change. It’s dynamic, something in the process of coming to be—like the result of learning or our personal evolution.

Philosophy

According to Google AI (with my editing for brevity): The philosophy of “being” versus “becoming” is one of the oldest debates in metaphysics, centering on whether reality is fundamentally permanent or constantly changing. The debate began in ancient Greece with two contrasting views:

Parmenides (Being): Argued that reality is permanent, unchanging, and eternal. Change is an illusion because something cannot come from nothing.

Heraclitus (Becoming): Argued that change is the fundamental nature of the universe, famously stating that you can’t step into the same river twice.

Aristotle united them through the ideas of “potentiality” and “actuality.” “Being” is what a thing actually is right now—for instance an acorn. “Becoming” is its potential unfolding into something else—the oak tree.

More recently, Jean-Paul Sartre argued that humans don’t have a fixed, permanent essence (“being”). Instead, through our daily choices, we’re constantly inventing ourselves (“becoming”). And in the East, Buddhism generally rejected the idea of a permanent, unchanging “being,” viewing “becoming” (constant flux) as the ultimate reality. Daoism encouraged alignment with the natural, dynamic flow of the universe rather than trying to freeze reality into fixed categories. And Hinduism embraced both absolute permanence and absolute change. While the physical world is always “becoming,” our true identity is the unchanging spiritual “being” underneath it all.

I find it curious that science and philosophy have relied upon analysis to seek understanding. They both separate and divide ideas, objects and processes, the former asking, “How does it work?” and the latter “What does it mean?” It seems obvious to me that for something to become, it must first exist—be. And while in my view being precedes becoming, human beings integrate them by our having inner (subjective) and outer (objective) lives.

Beatrice Bruteau argued that being and becoming are unified through the process of cosmic evolution and human consciousness. “Being,” she wrote, “is not a fixed, unchanging substance, but an active, creative movement of love that continuously flows into “becoming.” To truly experience our “beingness,” we need to shift away from an ego-centered view (“I am this separate thing”) and look at our reality from the inside out—recognizing ourselves as an ongoing, “collective evolutionary stream.”

As a consequence, she didn’t perceive God as a detached, unchanging entity watching from afar, but “actively rising up through the evolutionary process.” Therefore, the constant transformation of both persons and the universe—acts of “becoming”—is the physical manifestation of the divine life expanding ITS consciousness. Further, she taught that Ultimate Being is Unconditional Love.

Consistent with this perspective, a while back I read somewhere that God isn’t a “being,” but Being itself. That resonates.

Unconditional love. Hmm. That’s really what I was experiencing looking out the window this morning—not loving some object, not directing it outward to anything or anyone. Just love—being love and luxuriating in it. If deep silence and stillness is a catalyst for tapping into that, I could become a morning person.

Then again, there’s the body.

We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We’re spiritual beings having a human experience.

Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, S.J.

(Regarding the opening lyrics cited above, I’ve heard several singers perform those songs, but it’s Johnny Mathis’ versions that play in my head. Beautiful!).

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My other sites:

David L. Smith Photography Portfolio.com

Ancient Maya Cultural Traits.com: Weekly blog featuring the traits that made this civilization unique

Spiritual Visionaries.com: Access to 81 free videos on YouTube featuring thought leaders and events of the 1980s.

Consciousness, God, and Quantum Reality

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How a television screen illustrates the mystery of pure potential

The eye with which I see God is the same eye with which God sees me.

Meister Eckhart

Have you ever become so absorbed in a movie that you completely forgot the screen it was projected on?

We laugh.
We cry.
We become frightened.
We fall in love with characters who don’t actually exist.

Analogy

Throughout the entire experience of watching a movie or television program, something fascinating happens: We stop seeing the screen itself. There’s an analogy that’s sometimes used to signify the difficulty in attempting to image the Absolute, God or Pure Potential. It’s fairly commonplace, so I was surprised when someone on the spiritual path said she’d never heard of it—and it helped. Since I happened to have a photo of my television screen I thought I’d share that perspective here.

A bare movie or television screen with nothing projected onto it is “pure potential.” It can display an infinite number and variety of images, tell an infinite number of stories and can be conceived of as having the capacity to showcase the full range of nature’s evolution and human history. A difficulty arises when an image—any image—is projected onto a screen. The projection is so compelling, so attention holding, the surface of the screen becomes invisible.

Right now, instead of seeing words on your screen, try to see its surface. Being limited with five senses, we only see and attend to whatever is projected onto the screen. Whenever we’re attending to a movie or television program we’re seeing its infinite imaging potential manifesting a particular image—reality. We don’t see the source. Just so in life, we don’t see the Source. When images are being projected onto any kind of screen, it’s nearly impossible—except by imagination—to discern its texture or smoothness.

Science

At the subatomic level, quantum physics describes the “collapse of the wave function,” a mathematical description of probability (potential reality), where an observer’s expectation (consciousness) “collapses” that potential to display a single, definite reality.

The Great Mystery

Another familiar metaphor makes it clear why our senses don’t “see” God or the Absolute reality—fish don’t see the water they swim in. Just so, for us the divine isn’t “out there,” somewhere in the cosmos or beyond it. It’s existence or “being” itself, so present and pervasive we have to train our consciousness—usually though meditation and contemplation—if we’re to become aware that we and the reality we experience is a projection of  IT.

We call it “The Great Mystery”—How our local (personal) consciousness “collapses” or manifests a particular reality from the nonlocal consciousness that permeates the cosmos.

Practical Consideration

What are images that are being projecting onto our media screens? Are they helping us to become aware of Source—the divine presence in all that exists? Is the content awakening us to our higher potentials, encouraging or inspiring us to give our gifts to consciously co-create our preferred reality? Are we paying too much attention to our screens and not enough to what goes into the images (consciousness) that’s projected onto them—and how it’s affecting our lives?

Perhaps the deepest purpose of contemplative photography isn’t simply to make photographs that capture the world in a compelling way, but to awaken us to the luminous Presence from which the world continuously arises.

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My other sites:

David L. Smith Photography Portfolio.com

Ancient Maya Cultural Traits.com: Weekly blog featuring the traits that made this civilization unique

Spiritual Visionaries.com: Access to 81 free videos on YouTube featuring thought leaders and events of the 1980s.

The Power of Stillness: How Serenity Awakens Creativity and Potential

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Contemplative photography promotes silence, renewal, and seeing more deeply

On the evening this photograph was made, the dominant sound in this airport parking lot was birds—a stark contrast to the busyness and clamor of cars, shuttle-busses and conversations that once pervaded it day and night for several years. The difference between the activity then and the serenity I experienced is heightened, I think, because the central structure existed, literally, to provide shelter. Ironically, the emptiness of the space in this image sort of fulfills the site’s purpose aesthetically by conveying a sense of peace.

The emptiness and quiet of the landscape encourages me to reflect upon its elements. Had there been cars, shuttle-busses and people in the photograph, my attention would have been drawn to the human rather than physical aspects of the image. Instead, the simplicity of elements and the long shadows direct my attention to the expanse of asphalt. I think of the forest it must have replaced, the animals and birds that were displaced, the mountains of sand and gravel, oil and paint that were used in its construction. It’s not that I object to this use of natural resources. I don’t.

Building is what we humans necessarily do—it’s the activation of energy flowing from the desire to create and grow.

In addition to the raw materials that it took for this landscape and shelter to exist, I appreciate the army of individuals who envisioned, designed, leveled, supplied and built them, including the electricians who wired it for lighting and those who manufactured the glass and aluminum. Having traveled in countries where paved roads and electricity were non-existant and barely functional, this facility stands as a testament to the power of collaboration.

The emptiness of a space designed to facilitate the movement of hundreds of people has a haunting quality. Not in a spooky way, but in the sense that purpose here is at rest. Potential. And because everything looks fairly new—no weeds pushing up through the asphalt, no fallen light poles or broken glass—there’s the hope of renewal. (And that hope has recently been realized. Today, this parking lot is back in action serving as an airline hub for a major freight company).

In serenity it’s easier to touch impermanence, ebb and flow, rising and falling, coming and going. It gives rise to the place in us where purpose discovers its most appropriate and creative action, for in the state of potential, all things are possible.

The more tranquil a man becomes, the greater is his success, his influence, his power for good. Calmness of mind is one of the beautiful jewels of wisdom. 

James Allen, British philosopher

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My other sites:

David L. Smith Photography Portfolio.com

Ancient Maya Cultural Traits.com: Weekly blog featuring the traits that made this civilization unique

Spiritual Visionaries.com: Access to 81 free videos on YouTube featuring thought leaders and events of the 1980s.

 

Identity: Discovering the True Self

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What we are not, can reveal what we are in essence

Every photograph I’ve ever made is a portrait of impermanence. After the shutter clicks, the subject changes. The light grows brighter or darker. A cloud moves. A flower fades. A child grows older. A face changes. Even mountains—given enough time—rise and disappear. Photography teaches an unavoidable truth: Everything we can see changes, is subject to entropy. Which raises one of humanity’s oldest questions: If everything about me changes—moment to moment—who—or what—am I?

For something to qualify as our true identity, our “essence,” the ground of our humanness, it cannot be subject to change. It can’t be anything that comes and goes over time.

In part, I’m contemplating this topic because I recently heard of someone who staunchly refused to do the morally right thing—or shift his belief—because he identified so strongly with a particular ethnic group. To generally paraphrase that mindset: “My people have an ancient history. Having been born into this group, their path is my path; I believe as they do, even if the world thinks otherwise. You ask who I am? I am one with my people, and I will defend them to the death. I am nothing without them.”

A staunch commitment like this, expressed as “I am my people” can start and maintain wars, racial and political conflicts and a host of other violent events. Vehemently claiming and clinging to an identity other than one’s true essence creates separation. And any attack on that identity, however subtle or overt, requires a counter attack—which is considered justified because it’s reciprocal. Thus the lesson of history: “war breeds war.”

Individually and collectively, we don’t yet know who we are.

I say “yet” because the consequences of the “separation paradigm” are proving to be disastrous and unsustainable. Eventually, we’ll learn that this perspective cannot sustain a civilization. It doesn’t support life.

What I am not

From their beginnings, the major religions and wisdom schools have provided a unified answer to the question of identity. But for the most part—and for a variety of reasons—it hasn’t taken root. Essences are rarely discussed or debated outside these and academic venues.

Our true identity, “essence,” is the core of our being, the most fundamental and intrinsic quality that makes us unique—one of a kind and unchangeable with time. As such, our essence is not subject to change. That being so, I can gain some insight through a process of elimination. For instance—

I am not my body, mind or thoughts. (They are constantly changing)

I am not my heritage or race. (These are properties of my body, not me).

I am not my DNA. (This blueprint for a particular body often changes. Mutates).

I am not my personhood. (I am not the person I was yesterday)

I am not my family or relationships. (I simply have membership in them. And they change).

I am not my house or neighborhood.

I am not my faith, beliefs, religion or philosophy.

I am not any of the schools I attended or organizations I belong to.

I am not my money, wealth or possessions.

I am not my gifts (talents or capabilities)

I am not my labels: name, roles,  occupations or interests.

I am not my beliefs, values, intentions, perspectives, imaginations, dreams or aspirations.

I am not my faith, religion, ethnicity, culture or nation.

I am not my status, reputation, image, personality or history.

I am not my health or lack thereof.

I am not what I create or invent.

I am not what I consume.

And so on…

This doesn’t mean these aspects of our lives are unimportant. Our families, cultures, talents, beliefs and stories are precious expressions of who we are.

So What Am I?

I am that aspect of being that’s not—and never has been—subject to change; not in a process of becoming. We assign it different labels so we can talk about it, but the human essence across time and cultures is the same—

soul

spirit

light divine

divine spark

cosmic life-force

spiritual presence

higher Self

Atman (Hindu)

Pneuma (Greek)

Nitzotz (Hebrew)

Monad (Theosophy)

Agni (Vedic)

Buddha Nature

Jesus referred to it as I AM.

Our essence is believed to be eternal, one in being with the Creator, God, Source, the Ground of All Being, Infinite Intelligence. While our body-minds differ from one another, we each have the same divine spark within. It’s the basis for human unity—and our true identity.

If that’s true, how then shall we live?

If our deepest identity is not the ego-self but the soul, the life lessons are profound. Rather than “rules,” I would frame them as shifts in perception. 

  1. Learn non-attachment: I have experiences; I am not my experiences. If the soul is the witness beneath changing conditions, then we can participate fully in life without being possessed by it. I have a story, but I am more than my history. The lesson is to Hold everything lovingly—but lightly. This is the wisdom behind the Buddhist teaching of “impermanence.” Suffering comes not because things change, but because we resist it, demanding that changing things provide our permanent identity.
  1. Learn humility: My perspective is not the whole truth. If my ego is not my essence, then neither are my opinions, beliefs or worldview. This is critically important socially. The ego says: “If you challenge my belief, you threaten me.” The soul says: “If you challenge my belief, you may help me grow.” That shift alone transforms marriages, politics, religions, cultures and nations. A soul-centered person is open, can ask: “What if I’m wrong?”
  1. Learn compassion: The same essence lives in everyone. In India the greeting “namasté” acknowledges the divine spark in each personal encounter. It says, in effect, “I honor that place in you where, when you are in that place and I am in that place, we are one.” If the deepest reality in me is also the deepest in you, then separation is ultimately superficial. The question becomes: “Can I see the soul beneath the behavior?” 
  1. Learn forgiveness: Human beings are in a process of becoming. One of the great lessons of soul identity is patience with incompleteness. The ego asks: “Why aren’t you better?” The soul asks: “What are you still learning?” We’re all unfinished, works in progress. We are beings in the process of awakening to the reality of our true—divine—nature.
  1. Learn courage: Nothing real—essential—can be lost. A great deal of fear comes from defending temporary identities: status, possessions, reputation, youth. But seeing essence as more substantial than form, change becomes less threatening. The question shifts from: “What am I losing?” to: “What is life inviting me to become?” This is the spiritual meaning of transformation. 
  1. Learn presence: This moment is where the soul lives. The ego spends much of life traveling backward into regret and forward into anxiety or dreaming. But awareness itself is always present. The soul encounters life only now. That’s why contemplative practices—including contemplative photography—matter. The camera (especially view cameras) slows us down enough to truly see: a leaf, a face, a beam of light, a shadow on a wall, a footprint in the sand. Minor White famously said, “Once it has selected a photographer, spirit always stands still long enough to be recorded.”
  1. Learn service: We are here to express and contribute, not acquire. If identity is ego-based, life becomes: “What can I get?” If it’s soul-based, life becomes: “How can I use my gifts to contribute?” The emphasis changes from: “What do I own?” to: “What can I give?” Our gifts, talents, creativity, and photographs are not who we are—they’re the ways our true identity expresses itself.

By strongly identifying with and clinging to anything that changes, life becomes a struggle to maintain what can’t last. By identifying with the soul beneath that which is impermanent, life becomes an adventure in growth, compassion, creativity and awakening. Ego strives to be special, particular, to stand out from the crowd. It’s concern is acquisition and tomorrow. Knowing our true identity, the soul guides us to become what we truly are—to be present and aware now. According to Teilhard de Chardin, “We’re spiritual beings having a human experience.”

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My other sites:

David L. Smith Photography Portfolio.com

Ancient Maya Cultural Traits.com: Weekly blog featuring the traits that made this civilization unique

Spiritual Visionaries.com: Access to 81 free videos on YouTube featuring thought leaders and events of the 1980s.

Part-Whole Relationships

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One Individual’s Expression Matters

Image

Do you see the jetliner? Remove any one of the pixels in the above image and there would be a hole in the whole (photograph). It wouldn’t be complete. It wouldn’t be the same photograph. Some might say it would have a flaw.

The universe presents itself to us as a system composed of parts-within-wholes, of systems within systems, organized through time and evolution as interdependent levels of complexity. Each part, including you and me, is integral to the whole; and, in some holographic sense, each part is a microcosm of the greater macrocosm. Each part contains within itself the seed or template of the whole.

— Christian de Quincey, Philosopher and author

Each and every individual pixel within a digital image is a necessary part of the whole picture—if it’s to be complete. Because pixels have unique characteristics such as size, color, luminance and value they are also individuals by virtue of their boundaries. Each bears a strong relationship to those in close proximity, less so for those farther away. Even the myriad of individual pixels so distant they appear to be unrelated are present and contributing to the whole picture.

Sounds like life, doesn’t it?

Had the above scene been photographed on film, the parts would have consisted of grains of silver halide which are “fixed” entities. They couldn’t be changed. On the other hand, because digital pixels are “virtual,” consisting of  units of electron excitations, they can quite easily be manipulated—for instance, made lighter or darker with changes in color and saturation. Whether the image substrate happens to be paper or a computer screen, photographic images are mechanical systems, constituted of parts that can be manipulated—in the developing and printing processes or using software applications such as Photoshop in the case of digital images.

Not so with living systems.

They’re composed of other living systems, each of whom continuously makes choices regarding their function and relationships. At every level, a living system is referred to as a “holon” because the uniqueness and integrity of the whole depends upon the integrity of its parts. And because each individual holon—cell, organism or person—makes decisions for itself relative to its condition, purpose, function, environment and host of dynamic considerations, such systems are said to be constituted of “members” rather than parts. When parts are interchanged within a mechanical system it returns to its functional design. But when members are replaced within a living system it becomes newly constituted.

At every level, as change occurs—within a living system or its environment—the holons (systems above and below) change. They become new by adapting, or they die. (Thus the expression relating to human beings, “Grow or die.”) And when a human holon dies, the system within which it was a member—family, business, organizations—have to adapt to the change.

System scientists refer to the decision-making capability of a holon as autopoiesis “self-making.”

By our choices we constantly make ourselves new, not just our experiences in life. Philosopher of science, Beatrice Bruteau, wrote that “In all living systems it’s the interactive union of the members, the sharing of their being, their energies, that constitutes the new whole.” I emphasize: The sharing of their being. Atoms unite to form molecules, molecules unite to make cells, cells unite to form organisms, that in turn unite to make organs, that unite to make… You get the picture.

Whether we share, what we share and how we share our beingness, beyond but including what we do, how we do it and how we behave and talk makes a profound difference for the whole systems (holons) within which we are members. This is especially so for those in our close circle. But it’s also the case, by extension and facilitated by the electronic media, for those beyond it—the larger holons within which we function as members—family, community, church, business, industry, nation, species.

As members of a church, community and political systems, we remake these larger systems by the quality of our presence and everyday choices. For instance, one of the lessons we’re learning on this turn of the evolutionary spiral is that the person or persons we elect to public office—or allow to lead us, directly impacts the reality of a nation.

Considered broadly, in the above image I’m reminded that every human being (pixel in the analogy), regardless of circumstances, is an integral member in the emerging picture of the human family. Every day, the quality and manner of our character, choosing and relating contributes to the making of that picture. Our interrelatedness makes us interdependent.

What happens in and to one of the system’s parts also happens in and to all its other parts, and hence it happens in and to the system as a whole.

— Ervin Laszlo, Systems scientist, philosopher

Image

This is a greatly enlarged section from the lower right corner of the sky image above, here to demonstrate how individual holons (pixels in this case) contribute to and constitute the larger image.

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My other sites:

David L. Smith Photography Portfolio.com

Ancient Maya Cultural Traits.com: Weekly blog featuring the traits that made this civilization unique

Spiritual Visionaries.com: Access to 81 free videos on YouTube featuring thought leaders and events of the 1980s.

What Does it Mean to be Human—To be More Fully Human?

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Finding Meaning, Purpose, and Wholeness Through the Evolution of Consciousness

In The Meaning of Your Life: Finding Purpose in an Age of Emptiness. Arthur C. Brook says

many today, especially young people, are experiencing a growing sense of emptiness.

  • There’s a lack of purpose and significance
  • Loneliness, anxiety and dissatisfaction are on the rise
  • I’s the feeling that something essential is missing

Growth in adolescence depends in large part on the amount of meaning one is able to extract from the culture. — Mihalyi Csikszenthihalyi, Psychologist

He attributes this to having our more choices, conveniences and distractions.

  • The perennial questions (Why am I here? What is worth living for?…) are seldom discussed.
  • The culture advises “Become successful, and then you’ll be fulfilled.”
  • The theme of modern life is self-centered: my identity, my desires, my opinion…
  • Emersion in technology provides constant stimulation.
  • There’s a loss of higher connection—to God, nature, beauty, truth, love, awe.
  • Everyday living is largely reduced to productivity and consumption.

I’m moved to write about this because evidence of this is showing up in attitudes and media. Also, because meaning is the organizing principle in life. It gives our experience coherence, connecting our story to larger stories. And it helps us endure hardship, make choices, develop our gifts and feel that our lives matter beyond survival or success. Without meaning, we may be comfortable and having great experiences, but its accompanied with a persistent feeling of disconnectedness, restlessness or emptiness.

Socially, meaning is the bond that holds communities together. Shared meaning creates trust, belonging, cooperation and a sense of responsibility for something larger than oneself. Even large cultures are sustained by stories about what’s valuable and sacred, and what people aspire to become.

A crisis of meaning becomes a crisis of relationship: separation from ourselves, from one another, from nature and from the great mystery of existence.

The arc of human evolution

(Source: ChatGPT. My request: “I’d like a timeline: first appearance of mammals; first appearance of “homo sapiens”; first appearance of self-reflexive consciousness—awakening to the inner life. And what would characterize the transition from then until contemporary humans?”)
  • ~225–200 million years ago — First mammals: beyond reacting, life developed feeling
  • ~65–55 million years ago — Early primates: monkeys, apes and humans diversify. Life begins relating in complex groups
  • ~7–6 million years ago — Earliest human lineage separates from other apes. Life begins to reshape its environment intentionally.
  • ~2.8–2 million years ago — The genus Homo Life begins to accumulate knowledge across generations.
  • ~300,000 years ago —Homo sapiens appear in Africa. Life becomes aware of possibilities; early signs of a symbolic inner world.
  • ~100,000–40,000 years ago — Symbolic awakening (“inner life”). The great point of self-reflexive consciousness: “I am aware that I am aware.” “Who am I?” “Where did I come from?” “What happens after death? What is my relationship to the cosmos?

Since then—

  • Mythic humanity (~50,000–10,000 years ago). Humans experience themselves embedded in nature.
  • Agricultural humanity (~12,000 years ago). The Neolithic Revolution transforms consciousness. Less nomadic, more sedentary.
  • Humans begin controlling ecosystems. (“We can shape the world.”)
  • Rational/scientific humanity (~500 years ago). The rise of modern science. (“We can understand the world.”)
  • Contemporary humanity. Emerging planetary consciousness. (“We are the world becoming conscious of itself.”)

What does it mean to be human?

We’re the creature in whom the universe looks back on itself, wonders and continually ask: Who am I? What does it mean that I am here? What have I come here to BE? What have I come here to DO? What’s going on? What matters? 

These being “perennial” questions, it’s the seeking itself that creates coherence and connection to the larger story. It helps us endure challenges, make good choices and feel like our lives matter. Behind the scenes, evolution moves at a glacial speed toward greater complexity, awareness and capacity for relationship.

Considering the causes for feeling disconnected, restless or empty, many in our culture were—or are—never taught or give thought to these questions. Others just don’t want to go there. Still others get so busy there’s no time to consider them in earnest. 

What does it mean to become more fully human?

For me, perception opens the doorway. For most of biological history, seeing served survival: Where is food? Where is danger—mate—shelter? Sight was primarily functional.

As human consciousness evolved, seeing became something more. The eye became connected not only to the brain, but to memory, imagination, emotion, meaning, and spirit. We became the creature who could see and appreciate beauty. 

Ecologian Thomas Berry suggested that the great work of our time is moving from seeing Earth as a collection of resources to seeing it as a communion of living beings. Both perceptions carried meaning, but the latter elevates it—expands the mind and opens the heart to greater levels of relationship, connection and belonging.

While increased capacities to perceive opens the door to meaning, the “light” it lets in (to the mind and heart) opens a constellation of capacities—

Self-awareness: the ability to reflect our thoughts, emotions, motives, preferences and actions. We’re no longer only shaped by life—we participate in shaping it.

Love: it expands the circle of identity; the capacity to reach concern beyond ourselves. Teilhard de Chardin said love is the movement from separation toward communion.

Compassion: feeling another’s experience as real; suffer for people we never met.

 Interpretation: even in the experience of suffering we can transform it into understanding.

Creativity: we can imagine and create realities that don’t yet exist. Psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi said “The most important thing about creativity is that it enriches life.”

Wonder and Awe: the feeling that we tapped into or belong to something larger than ourselves.

Conscious Choice: freedom from instinct; we can notice things and choose. 

For me, meaning-making occurred in every facet of life. In family—to learn, share and grow together with loved ones. In photography—using a camera to see the divine in all things. In film and television production—to exercise my creative potentials. In blogging and maintaining web sites— to share my photographs, interests and thoughts. In researching— decades spent studying anthropology, physics, philosophy and spiritual traditions. In studying the Ancient Maya of Central America—learning the significance of past life influences. And 26 years of teaching— afforded me the privilege of passing on practical lessons and hopefully some wisdom to young minds. Every day—meaningful. Every step—meaningful.  

Wholeness  

(Source: ChatGPT. I asked: “How does becoming more fully human relate to becoming whole as a person?)

Becoming more fully human amounts to a movement toward wholeness. The two ideas are inseparable.A human being is born with extraordinary potentials—perception, intelligence, imagination, love, creativity, compassion, self-awareness—but they do not automatically mature. They must be awakened, cultivated, and integrated. To become “more fully human” is to bring more and more of our capacities into conscious expression.

In that sense, evolution has two movements:

  • Outer evolution: the development of the human organism—hands, eyes, brain, language, tools, technology.
  • Inner evolution: the development of human consciousness—wisdom, empathy, meaning, creativity, compassion and love.

The first gave us the ability to shape the world. The second asks whether we have become mature enough to shape it wisely.

Abraham Maslow suggested that development moves beyond personal fulfillment toward self-transcendence: using one’s gifts in service of something larger than oneself. And Viktor Frankl emphasized that fulfillment is not found by turning inward in self-concern, but by reaching beyond oneself toward meaning: “The more one forgets himself—by giving himself to a cause to serve or another person to love—the more human he is.”

The awakening meaning

What does it take?

  • Quiet
  • Self-inquiry. Asking the perennial question within—where all the answers reside.
  • Daily appreciating what is—as it is.
  • Continuously asking: What does this mean? What am I supposed to be learning?

Becoming “more fully human” isn’t necessarily about adding something new to ourselves. It’s about awakening gifts that have always been within us—but that modern life has taught us to ignore or suppress.

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My other sites:

David L. Smith Photography Portfolio.com

Ancient Maya Cultural Traits.com: Weekly blog featuring the traits that made this civilization unique

Spiritual Visionaries.com: Access to 81 free videos on YouTube featuring thought leaders and events of the 1980s.

Nature’s Design Principles

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The Seeds We Water Are The Ones That Grow

Over time, a species of tree that evolved into the maple did so in part because it succeeded in finding a way to disburse numerous seeds over a greater distance. As kids we called them “pinwheels” or “helicopter seeds.” Hedging no bets in the area of reproduction, between 12,000 and 90,000 of these seeds can fall from a single tree in one season.

In this image I see a delivery system, a “package” perfectly designed to accomplish its mission. The heavier bulb containing the seed responds to gravity, pointing downward so it can penetrate the ground, while the aerodynamic “wing” system takes advantage of the wind to disperse the seed beyond the tree’s roots where it can germinate in fresh soil with the added advantage of increased sunlight. The design alone increased the odds of successful reproduction.

Because creation begins with imagination, when I think of seeds, I think of ideas. Of the number of ideas I’ve had, relatively few passed beyond germination. Fewer yet reached maturity. With time and experience we become more selective in our wanting, but how is it that some goals, even when pursued with passion and persistence, don’t come to fruition? Two examples, one from business the other from teaching, come to mind for me, both of which—in hindsight—provided the same simple but profound lesson: Apple trees don’t grow from peach seeds. They are both fruit trees, but their inherent designs, growth needs and strategies are very different.

If I were king of the world, students would be exposed to nature’s design principles and strategies before they graduate from high school. Like many of us with vivid imaginations, I generated many ideas about what I could do and what I wanted to do. Had I known, even metaphorically, that ideas and initiatives grow organically from the ground up (not the top down), from seeds (ideas) planted in soils rich in nutrients (money and resources for businesses) with lots of sunlight (intelligence and wisdom) and caring hands (a collaboration of peers), the ideas mentioned above would likely have blossomed. Instead, they now reside in folders in my “Uncompleted Projects” file drawer.

On the other hand, perspective: had those ideas manifested, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. And although those ideas still tug at my heartstrings, I consider myself better off for having learned what doesn’t work. Had the bigger ideas manifested, my lifestyle would have been chaotic. Gratefully, I needed to learn some very important lessons by missing the brass ring. And that’s perfect. Had I understood something of nature’s design principles and strategies, I like to think I would have directed my attention differently.

In our consciousness, there are many negative seeds and also many positive seeds. The practice is to avoid watering the negative seeds, and to identify and water the positive seeds every day.

— Thich Nhat Hanh

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My other sites:

David L. Smith Photography Portfolio.com

Ancient Maya Cultural Traits.com: Weekly blog featuring the traits that made this civilization unique

Spiritual Visionaries.com: Access to 81 free videos on YouTube featuring thought leaders and events of the 1980s.