Moved by Moments

From my window, the purple wisps of bachelor’s buttons catches my eye amongst the ever encroaching green.

The sun pours in around the riotous overgrowth of a very neglected garden, and comes to rest for a moment on their shaggy heads, glowing with raindrops of the night before.

That light will last mere seconds, I know, and grab my camera, hastily slipping my feet in to boots before stepping out the door. And then, I am wading through the weeds I have ignored all season, forgetting the ticks that probably live there, to try and catch those fleeting moments.

It is often the way with me. I will be going along in my day with the million thoughts of things to do running through my mind, when something grabs my attention begging to be seen, and everything stops.

Everything, that is, except for the changing light and the compelling need to capture the moment before it is gone.

I don’t know if I think this way because I have been taking pictures for so long, or if I began taking pictures in the first place because I think this way, but I sometimes wish everyone could experience life that way, even for a little while.

I say this because it feels like a meditation of sorts, a communing with something beyond yourself, an immersion into the world that we so often neglect, overlook, forget about, devalue. And there is something calming and validating about looking outward, really seeing and feeling the world around you and embracing that connection.

So, I’m not sure what came first for me, but photography has been a brilliant tool to help me explore the world, see those moments, stop time.

I can get so excited about the way light falls on or around a particular subject, such as the illuminated crowns of the bachelor’s buttons outside my window, that in a moment nothing else matters. It is like the sun is saying, “Look at this! Look how perfect, look how interesting, look how beautiful.” And I rush to agree, to really look, to be completely present.