Single moments that embed themselves in your psyche
There are very few times in a lifetime that truly give your life meaning, direction and solace. The above image was born from a heartbreaking time in my life. My marriage was over; I was on my own in Malaysia without my kids for the first time, and the conflict was non-stop. This trip was to 1. reclaim my independence from my marriage and 2. distract me from the heartbreak of not being able to see my kids every day. The trip was 2 weeks, 1 in Malaysia and 1 in Thailand. A chance to slow down, to heal, to appreciate the strength I had and to grieve as well. On a day when something horrendous happened, I chose not to let it ruin my time away, as the tension was designed to do. So, I dried my tears, got dressed and embarked on a day trip to the Batu Caves just on the outskirts of Kuala Lumpur. I had been here in my 20s and knew what to expect, so bought a couple of bottles of drink at the train station.
Once at the Batu Caves train stop, I walked the short distance to get to the stairs.
The stairs that lead to the caves are steep and are lined with monkeys.
Climbing those stairs was like a release of everything I had been through in the last 6 months. When I actually thought about it, I was, in fact, also processing 3 decades. I'm not going to lie, there were tears. Achievement, sorrow, determination, anger and love for myself. It's interesting, on reflection of these photos, that photography is how I communicate. A documentation of my life, a cathartic substantiation of my feelings and a release of emotions. From travel photos off my phone to the 40-layered composite awards art pieces, I extend everything of myself into my photography.
Once inside the cave, I knew I would spend some time, but first, I sent my Mum some photos. She hates monkeys with a passion 😂, but she was also my rock during this time and had been aware of the complicated time I had earlier that day. Inside the cave, time almost stood still for me. There was something deeply different about being there. For once, I didn’t feel any pressure to move on. I could simply be there, take my time, look around, enjoy the moment and appreciate the place for what it was.
I hadn’t realised how much I had come to associate simply being somewhere with the expectation that I should soon be leaving. For so long, there had been an underlying pressure to move on, to leave the shop, leave the café, leave the place we were visiting, finish what I was doing and get going. Even when there was no practical reason to hurry, I could feel the anxiety building around the expectation of moving on.
Over time, that pressure became something I carried inside myself. I would find myself watching the time, anticipating when it would be time to leave, feeling guilty for lingering, or worrying that I was taking too long. I stopped being fully present because part of me was always preparing to go.
So to experience a place without that pressure felt surprisingly profound. I could stay. I could look. I could wander. I could sit with the moment rather than constantly anticipating its end.
I knew that I wanted to spend time in the temples and pray. The desire to set my intentions for the year and let go of the previous year was strong. I lit ghee lamps and set them down while praying to the universe. I think I sat on the main temple floor for probably half an hour just watching people come and go, watching monks bless people and just being in that moment.
Then, it was time to head back down to the bottom, as I had drunk all my water and I was thirsty again.
At the bottom, there is another temple with interesting shapes, columns and colours so I was immediately drawn to it. It was surprisingly empty considering how many people were going up and down the stairs to the caves so it was a welcome quiet area to explore. I saw this image, and the floor invited me to sit down and take a photo from a different perspective.
As I was photographing, a monk came over to me and asked if I wanted a blessing. I immediately said yes, and he prayed for me as he tied this orange cord around my wrist. Once again, for about the 100th time that day, tears rolled down my face. The peacefulness mixed with the sorrow, mixed with the spirituality of the moment, was now embedded into my DNA.
After the blessing, this monk, who was probably only 28, chatted with me about where I was from. He asked me if I was a photographer, given the expensive and rather large camera I had 😂. We talked about photography, and he asked to see my Instagram. He pulled out his phone and followed my account. It struck me as so funny that my own preconceived notions of monks had just been smashed. He was quite funny, and he also showed me some of his photos on his phone. The next sentence he said has changed me. He looked at my camera and looked at me after seeing my work on Instagram, and said in his stilted English, "You need Big Soul to do what you do". 🤯🤯🤯 Mind blown, mic drop! I thanked him for his blessing, gave him my donation and left the temple.
Isn't it a strange and wonderful world where two people from vastly different worlds can meet and have a moment? He probably didn't think much of the chat, considering how many people he sees at the Batu Caves every day. However, to me, with my state of mind and my emotional conflict, it was very deep and has affected me long past the encounter.
He was right! I DO need Big Soul to do what I do. I’ve thought about those words many times since.
Photography is often described as being about light, composition, lenses and technique. Of course, all of those things matter. However, the part of photography I value most is the connection. To photograph someone well, I have to really see them. I have to make them feel safe enough to let me in, to trust me with a version of themselves they might not usually show.
Perhaps that is what he meant by Big Soul.
It takes something bigger than a camera to hold people’s stories, their vulnerability, their confidence, their joy and sometimes their uncertainty. I think my photography has always been about that: seeing what is there, finding the beauty in it, and creating enough space for someone to be fully themselves.
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