Woodland Sunflowers in Early Morning Light

“The world of life, of spontaneity, the world of dawn and sunset and starlight, the world of soil and sunshine, of meadow and woodland, of hickory and oak and maple and hemlock and pineland forests, of wildlife dwelling around us, of the river and its wellbeing–all of this [is] the integral community in which we live.” 

Thomas Berry

This picture, along with several others, was taken on today’s date—September 18—but the year was 2013. I distinctly remember shooting these photographs for two reasons.

The first is because in the final days of summer that year, I was experiencing a serious lack of energy and direction. I’d been feeling disconnected from my work, my community, and my creativity. My journal was my trusty therapist: “If I’m being honest,” I wrote at the time, “I feel totally detached from my own life.”

Seeing these bright yellow flowers lining the wooded trail, however, jolted me from my doldrums and gave me unexpected joy. And purpose. The next day, I returned at sunrise, DSLR in hand, to capture their colorful energy. What an adventure it was to be in the woods when the dewy light of dawn casts its magic spell over the land. Because it was so early, the blooms were in the process of opening, making it appear that their petals were dancing in a non-existent breeze. Later, I did some online research and learned their name: Helianthus divaricatus or, more commonly, Woodland Sunflowers.

The second reason I remember photographing these cheerful flowers is because it was just a few days later that my vision suddenly became clouded and distorted, with splinters of light and veils of darkness obstructing my view. The retina in my right eye had detached, threatening permanent blindness in that eye.

I underwent emergency surgery to save my eyesight. Thankfully, the procedure was successful. Afterward, I turned my gaze inward and examined what this “detachment”—both physical and emotional—might be trying to teach me. I committed myself to not only “seeing” my life more clearly, but actively re-engaging with it.

I thought back to the friendly Woodland Sunflowers who, at the break of day that morning, gently pulled me out of my bed and, at least briefly, out of my head. They reminded me that photographing nature is a perfect way to re-connect with the living world—physically and emotionally.

During the weeks of recovery that followed my surgery, I was visually disoriented and witnessed the world through a translucent purple gas bubble in my eye. Regardless, most days I ventured outdoors to focus my attention and my camera on the beauty and wonder that Mother Earth offers. The annoying bobbing bubble gradually dissipated. And the more landscapes, flora, and fauna I photographed, the more observant I became of seasonal shifts and subtle changes in lighting. Healing was slow but sure.

Years later, taking pictures outdoors, where I’m surrounded by the smells, sounds, and vital energy of nature, makes me feel calm, curious, and connected to something bigger than myself. I more fully appreciate the endless diversity and everyday marvels of this living world. But, as Robin Wall Kimmerer says in her book Braiding Sweetgrass, “To love a place is not enough. We must find ways to heal it.” 

Are there ways that my humble camera and I can, in the spirit of reciprocity, aid our planet in its peril?

Well, let’s go back to the lessons of 2013. A detached retina results in clouded vision and, eventually, permanent blindness. Photography provides a healing connection. It seems logical that photography can also help heal our collective “detachment” from nature and environmental concerns. And yes, it has the potential to restore our vision.

Conservation photographer Karine Aigner explains: “It comes down to what we know; it’s simple: we will not fight to save something that we know nothing about, that we have no connection to… For me, the images are the bridge to the connection.” And Christian Vizl, an award-winning underwater photographer, says, “The higher purpose of my images is to be a voice of the ocean and for the ocean. I believe photography is capable of real service to humanity, promoting empathy and initiating change… If we want to have a future in this planet, we need to understand that our lives are interconnected to all living animals, and our own well-being is directly linked to the well-being of these animals.”

I, too, want to be a voice for the earth and its kin; to capture their images as a form of eco-activism. The need for us to re-connect with our environment is great, and nature photography presents a powerful way to create a shared vision for a healthier future.