Portal To Another World

 
One of my favorite subjects to paint and photograph is water. Why? Mostly because it is fluid and reflective. The water molecule is made of 2 hydrogen and 1 oxygen atoms. When they are bound together they form a very flat surface with the oxygen and hydrogen alternating in the same direction. This is great for causing photons (light particle) to bounce off in a consistent direction. They bounce because water is denser than air. Water is much flatter and smoother than most surfaces. You see reflections in water but not, say, sand, for the same reason you see your reflection in a polished piece of steel but not a rough-sanded piece of steel. All materials reflect light to some extent, but a rough surface scatters the reflected rays in all directions, so reflected images are blurred beyond recognition. On the other hand, with a very smooth surface, all the reflected light rays stay arranged in the same way they were arranged before hitting the surface, (except for being flipped into a mirror image, of course).

If the water is flowing rapidly, there is little reflection because the surface is not flat. Usually it picks up some surrounding colors, especially the sky. I have had fabulous outings in autumn, when the blazing fall colors are reflected in rivers.

Last fall I was living in Venice, Italy, the magical city built upon water. Some of my favorite photographs are of reflections. With the slightest movement on the water, the images shift and distort—a portal to another world.

At A Threshold

The word portal is at once familiar and mysterious; herein is its charm. When we come to a portal, we are at a threshold. We may be at a doorway that leads from a familiar interior to an outdoors that is limitless and leads to places unknown. Or it may be the reverse, coming from the wild outdoors of bustling streets or primitive forests, to an entrance that welcomes us to the comfort and safety of home. Portals have great variety. In ancient days, most cities were surrounded by walls, and great gates were portals to and from the interior. These days, websites can act as a portal to other domains through links that are gateways. 

I love experiences that are portals. I have been through many gates, and crossed countless thresholds around the world. Many times I have crossed into the unknown and always felt a thrill at the possibility of surprise and learning something new. Portal experiences function this way—taking us from something known into the realm of spirit, where borders are more obscure and our frame of mind shifts to something new. Such an experience can take us into the heart of creation and the center of our own being.

I have a simple example of just such a portal experience. It occurred last October while hiking outside of Vernazza, Italy, one of the five villages of Cinqueterra, on the Italian Riviera. I was with a friend, walking along a narrow dirt trail hugging a mountainside, with the Ligurian Sea just below us. We had followed the path up and down slopes, amid vineyards and flowering shrubs, when we turned and abruptly came to a man sitting on a bench, accordion on his lap with his dog laying on a rug at his feet. He had the look of old world gypsy—dark, with rumpled but stylish clothing, and a little mustache that perched on his upper lip. Wearing eye glasses under black leather cap, and smiling amiably when he saw us, he began playing his red accordion. His dog rolled onto its back, spreading his legs and putting all four feet up in the air, absolutely content and relishing the music on a fine fall day with the sunshine warming the earth.

At the sudden sight of the old-world gypsy and his dog, and the sound of the first notes of the accordion, I was entering a portal. A realm of wonder and enchantment opened before me. My breathing became deeper and I felt rested and gay. Although in a foreign land on foreign soil, an ancient recognition stirred in my breast. I had stepped through the portal and was in wonderment, spellbound by magic. We stood near and listened to the music, and I made a film with my camera video.

Portal Experiences

Within the church of San Pietro, Corniglia, Italy

I am so happy, this life is so beautiful and intriguing, there is no room for being sick . . . this is what I said aloud, as I coughed and convulsed, walking along the narrow main street of Vernazza, Italy. The crowds were out in midday bloom, laundry hung to dry from lines strung by windows above, shops lined every inch of the passage to the city harbor and of course no traffic and no motor vehicles. I walked and thought, this cough has been going on too long. 

The illness began in Venice and was so surprising because I have not been sick in 15 years; not even a cold. I had developed an attitude of impermeability to sickness. A friend I have been corresponding with in the USA, noticed I was not getting better, so wrote that I must see a doctor.

When I arrived in Vernazza, the apartment owners, a darling older couple, Giacomo and Maria Capellini, helped get me settled. Giacomo speaks English and when the discussion turned to a doctor, said that the clinic up the street was always open—including weekends. He walked with me and I was immediately seen by a physician who took tests and heard my descriptions, then pronounced I have bronchitis.
Now I am on antibiotics and should be much better in three days.

I have been having what I am calling “portal” experiences. These are surprising moments of occurrences that usher in such sublimity that some ancient remembrance of a pure state of bliss results. A few examples of the last few days: Being alone in a 500 year old church at night, long past the time when tourists were going to and fro. Walking up the steps into the dark cathedral and passing over the marble floor to sit at a pew next to a beatific sculpture of Jesus, arms outstretched with nail holes in the palms of his hands, looking down serenely. At his bare feet, candles still burning from earlier visitors. The silence so evocative, and on the wall nearby, a painting of the virgin mother, with the dove of heaven arriving to tell her of the heavenly life to grow inside of her.
Another time, just a couple days ago, in Monterosso, outside my room in the street, a man passed under the window, singing in such a marvelous and melodious voice. Then later, he came back, still singing. It awakened my higher sensibilities.
And of course, the church bells that ring, and sometimes their ringing takes on a melody.
So I finally wondered if my cough could possibly be a “portal” experience.
In some simple way, I think it could be. But I am more inclined to dwell on the sublime experiences that lead me to consider writing a book.