I’ve filmed inside a lot of houses of worship this year.  In Vietnam I visited countless Buddhist pagodas.  In Ecuador, it seemed I was in a Catholic church just as often as I wasn’t.  And here in Thailand, there’s a Buddhist wat on every corner.  So it may sound strange when I say that despite the number of hours I’ve spent filming the Christians and Buddhists who use these spaces (see Quito episode 6), it still makes me deeply uncomfortable to do so.  It has little to do with my own beliefs, except maybe this one:  Respect the spirituality of others.

Sadly, I think this makes me a bad fit for my job.  I can’t help but feel that I’m intruding on something deeply personal when I point my camera at a person in prayer.  There’s a great scene in Waking Life when filmmaker Caveh Zahedi tries to summarize the position of the Christian film critic Bazin by saying, “Film is like a record of God or the face of God, or of the ever-changing face of God.”  It’s a beautiful thought, and one that should strike terror into the hearts of any god-fearer with a camera phone.  Still, we don’t have to share Bazin’s beliefs to recognize that the strangers I’m filming DO believe, and that if ever there was a moment when they might fear me capturing their god on camera, this is it.  (For the record, Bazin never called it a “holy moment,” as Caveh claims.)

They don't build 'em like they used to.

So why do I film someone when I’m worried they’ll take offense?  (more…)

I’ve done some pretty crazy things in my life, mostly in the last year (swim with sharks, teach English to Korean kindergartners, jump from moving trains, drink milk a day after the expiration date, etc).  I have a predilection  towards finding myself in situations where I hear that little voice in my head saying “Freddie, what are you thinking? What are you trying to prove?” and this I have learned is just my mind’s way of alerting me to the fact that I am about to have a great story to tell if I survive. Just the other night I almost plummeted to my death into a raging river but luckily just landed on a muddy ledge. God, thanks for that one.  Why would I attempt to hike a mountain in the dark with no flashlight while wearing Chuck Taylors you ask?  Two words. Inti Raymi. This summer solstice festival is a huge deal for the indigenous people in Otavalo that have been celebrating this holiest of holy festivals since their Incan forefathers ruled the Andean region centuries ago.  They celebrate this event once a year with a riot of folk music, a fermented drink called Chicha, house parties and bathing in the waterfall at midnight on this special night- the waters are supposed to give one the necessary energy and vitality to dance all night honoring the Sun God for the following 5 nights.

Traveling around Ecuador the past few months I have been treated to some pretty impressive sights, think snow capped volcanoes, waking in a tent atop the Andes mountains, wild orchids growing in cloud forests, deserted beaches, pristine colonial architecture, guinea pigs roasting on a spit, but the reason that I risked life and limb to get the Peguche Waterfalls precisely at midnight, was just what my subconscious was trying to tell me all along with its repeated warnings that  clearly went unheeded.  After a slippery hour long hike in relative darkness, only couple of flashlights and the big beautiful moon served to illuminate our pilgrimage  over the handful of bridges that consisted of nothing more than some logs and boards haphazardly placed along the way.  The “bridges” went over river rapids, over drainage ditches and irrigation canals and ranged anywhere  from 15- to 20 feet in length.  I don’t know how we did it in the dark, I still don’t know how the fear didn’t throw me off balance, but the support of my friends and constant prayers to God saying  “God, if I can survive this, I will NEVER do this again!” , helped me make it across every time.  It felt like we were in the Ecuadorean version of “Stand by Me” .  Then after an hour of wandering lost in the woods we finally heard the roar of the waterfalls.

We found the trail that took us to the waterfall and were greeted with a huge crowd of revelers in basking in the moonlight, some in various states on undress as they took the chilly plunge into the waters, some watched, bands of musicians provided the perfect score as the shadows from the fires set up around the area danced in unison with us all. The sight, sounds and energy of the night were more than my limited vocabulary can capture in this blog post but I can assure that the Sun God smiled down upon us that night at Peguche Waterfall.

The Cao Dai religion (or Cao Daism) was formed in 1926 in Southern Vietnam. Cao Dai literally means high tower or palace, a metaphor for the highest place God reigns. This religion draws on beliefs from Confucianism, Buddhism and Taoism, and borrows terminology from Catholicism with titles like pope, cardinals, bishops and priests. The central philosophy of Cao Daism pertains to the duty that the faithful perform for themselves, their family, society and the world at large. There are reputed to be around 2 to 3 million followers, most in Vietnam.

Cao Dai’s pantheon of saints includes such diverse figures as the Buddha, Confucius, Jesus Christ, Muhammad, Pericles, Julius Caesar, Joan of Arc and Victor Hugo. Men with the rank of priest and higher have brightly colored robes reflecting their spiritual allegiance: yellow (symbolizing Buddhism and virtue), blue (Taoism and pacifism) or red (Confucianism and authority). Their most venerable place of worship, the Tay Ninh Holy See, is located a couple hours outside Saigon and we were lucky enough to attend a prayer session.