(Minghui.org)Dear Master,Hello, fellow practitioners.
Before I knew it, I had been involved in the media project for nearly 13 years. Throughout this time, I have continually rectified myself in my work and worked to let go of various attachments and human notions. Along the way, there have been moments of joy when things suddenly became clear, as well as struggles and hardships that cut deep into my heart and bones. On this occasion, at this grand gathering for Dafa disciples to share experiences, I would like to share some of my recent cultivation experiences, report to Master, and share them with fellow practitioners.
Maintaining Righteous Thoughts While Photographing Shen Yun Curtain Calls
Over the past three years of photographing Shen Yun curtain calls, I have encountered different challenges. This process has also been one in which I have continually corrected myself and improved my xinxing. On the surface, each time I faced technical difficulties with photography: lighting, positioning, composition, and unexpected situations. But looking back, what truly tested me was often not my photography skills, but whether I could let go of myself and maintain righteous thoughts amid pressure and conflicts.
When I first became involved in photographing Shen Yun curtain calls, my understanding was still limited to the technical aspects of photography. I knew that there was a huge difference in brightness between the stage and the audience area, so it was necessary to take photos at different exposures and combine them to fully capture the performers’ presence on stage, as well as the magnificent and sacred scene of the audience members being saved and illuminated by the light of Dafa.
However, once I actually began photographing, I realized that taking a good curtain-call photo was far from as simple as I had imagined. It required not only technical skills, but also a thorough understanding of the theater environment, careful anticipation of various unexpected situations, and the ability to complete all the necessary shots within an extremely short period of time.
When I was invited to photograph the curtain calls for the first time, I had no hands-on experience. On the day of the shoot, I had not gone into the theater beforehand to scout the location, nor did I have enough time to enter the theater and test the camera settings that would work best for my camera. In addition, after the shoot, I had to rush immediately back to the NTD interview assignment. Under the combined pressure of time and multiple tasks, I could only look for a shooting position at the last minute. The result was predictable.
Looking back and reflecting on the entire process, I realized that I had not sufficiently considered the various unexpected situations that could arise. With less than one minute available for shooting, anything from audience members standing up or leaving early to someone blocking the camera could cause the shoot to fail. Nevertheless, that experience also allowed me to figure out the camera settings that worked best for my equipment.
The second time I photographed the curtain call, I encountered a new problem. In order to be able to rush back to the NTD interview assignment quickly after the shoot, I deliberately chose a position close to the exit. I never expected, however, that the lights on both sides of the stage would block most of the character “Yun” on the backdrop, leaving an irreparable regret in the photo.
That experience made me realize that the success of a curtain-call photo does not depend only on the moment the shutter is pressed. It also depends on the shooting position, anticipating the conditions at the venue, and careful planning beforehand. Every detail can affect the final result.
When I photographed the Shen Yun curtain call the following year, I initially thought that with the experience from the first year, things should go much more smoothly. But in reality, I was faced with a completely different kind of test.
A few months before the Shen Yun reporting season began, I accidentally twisted my ankle. It became swollen like a loaf of bread, and even the bones in my leg were displaced. However, it was also an extremely busy period at work, and I had no time to stop and rest. All I could do was use crutches and complete one assignment after another.
By the time Shen Yun performances began, my foot injury had still not fully recovered. For me, in addition to figuring out how to take a good curtain-call photo, there was now another practical problem: How to find a position that could both capture the best possible image and allow me to leave as quickly as possible after the shoot and rush back to the NTD interview assignment.
As I watched the performance and thought about where to position myself, I suddenly realized that the seat where I was sitting might actually be a suitable shooting position. The answer I had been struggling to find was unexpectedly right in front of me. That day, I completed the shoot successfully and was also able to return to the NTD interview assignment in the shortest possible time.
However, the next day, a fellow practitioner from The Epoch Times told me that because the Saturday matinee and evening performances were both packed, they hoped I could continue photographing the curtain calls in a different position. I remembered that a veteran photographer had once shared that photographing the curtain call head-on from the side of the orchestra pit could capture several levels of the audience seating, showing the spectacular sight of a theater filled to capacity. So I decided to give it a try as well.
When the final program ended and the stage lights went out, I immediately raised my camera, completed the camera settings, and waited for the lights to come back on. Unexpectedly, as soon as the lights came on, five people in the front row stood up and left almost simultaneously. The image that had been filled with a full audience suddenly had a large empty area, and my plan fell apart in an instant. I was unwilling to give up, so I immediately moved to the side of the audience area and tried to recompose the shot. But a fellow practitioner serving as security, who did not understand the situation, mistakenly thought I was an audience member taking photos in violation of the rules and came over to stop me.
That experience made me reflect for a long time. On the surface, the failure seemed to have been caused by external factors such as audience members leaving and the security practitioner misunderstanding the situation. But when I looked inward, I also realized that there was something wrong with my own state. During that period, I had been shooting and editing intensively day after day and was completely exhausted. After the audience entered, I only wanted to find a quiet place to rest, and I had not attached enough importance to sending forth righteous thoughts and clearing away interference.
At the same time, I also realized that communication with the theater security team was equally important. If I did not communicate with the relevant security practitioners in advance, it could easily lead to misunderstandings that would affect the shoot. From then on, I paid even greater attention to overall planning before each shoot.
This year’s Shen Yun curtain-call photography brought another new test. Due to interference from the evil and bomb threats from the Chinese Communist Party, among other factors, ticket sales for Shen Yun performances in several cities across the United States were not as strong as in previous years. Under such circumstances, it was truly not easy to take curtain-call photos that were both realistic and able to fully showcase the grandeur of Shen Yun’s performances.
When I first received the assignment, I was worried that I would not be able to take photos that met the requirements. But I quickly reminded myself that I could not allow myself to develop a fear of difficulties, much less be swayed by the appearances before me. After the performance began, as I was thinking about how to approach the shoot, Master’s teaching, “When it’s impossible to do, you can do it.” (Lecture Nine, Zhuan Falun) suddenly came into my mind.
Master said:
“When it looks impossible and is said to be impossible, give it a try and see if it is possible. If you can actually do it, you will indeed find, “After passing the shady willow trees, there will be bright flowers and another village ahead!”” (Lecture Nine, Zhuan Falun)
After letting go of my attachment to the outcome, I no longer focused only on finding a position where there were “no empty seats.” Instead, I continuously adjusted my camera position, composition, and shooting angle according to the actual conditions at the venue.
In the end, I successfully captured several curtain-call photos that were both true to the scene and able to fully convey the atmosphere of the performance. Looking back, I have come to appreciate even more that taking a good curtain-call photo requires more than photography skills. It also requires patience, careful observation, thorough preparation, and maintaining righteous thoughts at critical moments.
When the performances returned to Vancouver, my home ground, the expectations were raised to another level.
This year, in addition to taking curtain-call photos, NTD also hoped that I would film a curtain-call video. At the same time, The Epoch Times needed a curtain-call photo that showcased the grandeur of the performance in order to meet the Thursday newspaper deadline. Although the photos and video recorded the same scene, the requirements were completely different: The photo depended on capturing the key moment, while the video required that nothing go wrong throughout the entire process. At the time, I was not even completely confident that I could take a good curtain-call photo, and now I also had to handle the video. Naturally, I felt somewhat uneasy.
Thanks to the cooperation of fellow practitioners on the NTD team, other photographers were able to support the interview work. Finally, I no longer had to sacrifice the best shooting position, as I had in previous years, just to rush back to the interview assignment. This made me appreciate even more that the overall coordination among fellow practitioners can often overcome the limitations of an individual’s abilities.
I reorganized my shooting plan: First, I would complete the curtain-call photo needed for the newspaper, and then choose the performance with the largest audience and focus on filming the curtain-call video. Unexpectedly, before the shoot, I once again encountered a situation in which theater staff were unaware of the arrangements and initially would not allow me to enter. As I watched the performance approaching its end, I became anxious and felt wronged. While waiting, I suddenly realized that if I continued to be driven by these negative emotions, wouldn’t that be exactly what the evil wanted to see? So I silently asked Master for help and reminded myself to remain calm and steady, and not to be driven by impatience or complaints.
A turning point came very quickly. The theater staff informed me that I could enter to take photos. I quickly found a suitable shooting position, eliminated all distractions, and sent forth a firm thought in my heart—“Steady.” I hoped that throughout the entire curtain call, the audience would remain peacefully in their seats, without leaving early or blocking the view. In the end, everything went very smoothly, and I successfully completed the curtain-call photo shoot.
After completing the curtain-call photo for The Epoch Times, I had originally planned to use the Saturday matinee, when the audience would be the largest, to focus on filming the curtain-call video. Unexpectedly, a fellow practitioner from The Epoch Times contacted me again and hoped that, with the theater packed, I could take another curtain-call photo that would better showcase the grandeur of the scene. I found myself in a dilemma and could only once again ask Master for support.
To my surprise, the shoot went exceptionally smoothly this time. During that performance, I was able to complete both the photo and video assignments. I am grateful for Master’s compassionate support, which once again allowed me to witness the extraordinary power of Dafa.
My Understanding of Enduring Hardship
This year, color grading the interview footage for the Shen Yun reporting was a major test for me. In the past, my color grading tended to look more natural, but my supervisor wanted the footage to better reflect Shen Yun’s brand style. I was asked to make the blue background wall deeper and more dignified, while making the people look more vibrant.
To meet these requirements, I repeatedly adjusted the colors, lighting, and skin tones. A single shot would often take one or two hours to revise. I would conduct interviews during the day and stay up late at night doing color grading. On top of that, there was no fixed reference version that I could use as a standard. Sometimes, because of the interviewee’s skin tone, I even had to change a background wall that I had already adjusted to a deep blue back to a lighter blue. The versions were revised again and again.
If the color grading was not approved, the subsequent editing could not move forward. At the same time, new interview footage kept piling up. The pressure became overwhelming, and I became very anxious. I always wanted to finish everything as quickly as possible and gain recognition, and I also hoped that others would understand the difficulties I was facing.During that period, I often thought about the story of Venerable Milarepa building houses: he would finish building one that day, only to tear it down the next day. Then he would move to another mountain and build again, only to tear it down after finishing. It seemed that he was simply doing the same thing over and over, but in reality, he was tempering the will of a cultivator. As my color grading was repeatedly revised and repeatedly rejected, I often felt that I could hardly bear it. At times, I even thought, “I have already worked so hard. Why can’t they be a little more understanding of me?”
But this process also gave me a deeper understanding of what it means to endure hardship. Just as new practitioners often hope that after obtaining the Fa they will gain a good and healthy body, I realized that perhaps I, too, had been expecting that after cultivating for many years, my work would become increasingly smooth and there would be fewer and fewer conflicts. Yet we are still so busy every day, and a thought often arises in my mind: “When will all of this ever end?”
At that moment, I suddenly realized that for new practitioners, experiencing the blessings that Dafa brings to a person is a genuine feeling in the early stages after obtaining the Fa. But for disciples who have cultivated for many years, perhaps it is time to change our way of thinking.
Master taught us in the article “How Human Kind Came to Be”:
“It is certain that going through hardships can help people to atone for their sins and karma. And anyone who manages to stay good-natured amidst painful situations and interpersonal troubles is going to build up merit and virtue and, as a result, will achieve the elevation of his or her soul.” (“How Human Kind Came to Be”)
Looking back on this experience with the color grading, when I truly began to see enduring hardship as an opportunity to improve my xinxing, those repeated revisions that had once seemed so difficult to bear were no longer simply suffering. Instead, they became a precious part of my cultivation journey.
The above are some of my cultivation experiences in participating in the Shen Yun reporting project.
Please kindly point out anything not in line with the Fa.
Thank you, Master!Thank you, fellow practitioners!
(Presented at the 2026 Canada Fa Conference)
