I’ve often wished that I could take pictures with my eyes. I’d love to show you an image of a vulture that attempts a landing on a tree branch. As the vulture settles, the dead branch breaks and falls to earth. The vulture dropped a couple of feet, built up enough air speed, and then soared away. I saw it, but can only talk about it now.
There have been countless other times I’ve seen a meteor, a landscape or critters just living out the drama that we call life. I’ve so wanted to capture those moments and share them with you. Meditating on this, I realized that I do capture those images on the imperfect canvas of my memory.
Last night, it happened again. The sun was setting as I looked out the window. Wow! The sky was glowing with the red-shifted light of the setting sun. I wanted to capture that so I ran to the office as fast as I could gimp. With camera in hand, I went out onto the front deck to capture this image:
Too late! The magic was gone. The camera never sees what the eyes do anyway.
Those grapes were probably sour. So why should I care?
Sometimes the best thing you can do is just stop, take a deep breath and SEE the sight before you. That memory won’t ever be taken away and feeling the moment makes it just that much better. But I know what you mean. I have hummers buzzing around the flowers and I just don’t even bother picking up the camera any more. I just enjoy.
Thanks for the visit and especially for the comment, Sue. I do try to savor those moments. Isn’t it great to watch those hummers?
The good Lord gave us the capacity to store images in the brain. True, like the camera they are sometimes imperfect, but they belong solely to the observer, for no one, no one, has ever recorded the same image!
Good point, sir. Try reading eye-witness accounts of an incident. Each will be different in some aspect.
I love that there are some things in life that you cannot capture other than with your own eyes and memories. I think that is what makes them special…that you, alone, are to treasure it forever.
Yah, me too.