A Holy Moment At The Biltmore Conservatory

Several years ago, I visited the Biltmore House in Asheville, North Carolina. I left a piece of my heart there. I’m not sure why I felt this way. It felt like Home. The house, the grounds, Asheville, the falls, all of it. Home.

There are towns all over the South East which have churches in close proximity to one another, differing in denomination. For me, Asheville is similar to this but instead of churches, there are waterfalls that you come across in much the same way. The waterfalls were better than any church. Sacred.

More often these days, I find myself lost in reverie. I suspect that it’s my spiritual connection which bridges the divide between the earth I stand upon and the place I go to: I call it the Holy Hum. Sometimes I refer to it as the Holy Stillness. Either way, I leave the physical world even though I am very aware of my feet on the ground in those moments. The air is sweeter somehow. It doesn’t have to be something large to transport me. These flowers were my vehicle that day.

This photo was taken inside the Biltmore conservatory in May several years ago. The light was magical. Soft, diffused, almost tender, it illuminated these flowers in such a way that I stood transfixed for a few moments before remembering I had my camera in my hands. They were hanging fairly high up so I simply stuck my camera in the air, hoping for a good shot. I was not disappointed.

This is one of the reasons I love to photograph the world around me: I am able to revisit the holy moments whenever I wish. I don’t need them to visit the Stillness. Yet, when I look at my photographs, they are a shortcut to it. Instantly, I am There.