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03120017DriftwoodHeron156ATwpDriftwood Heron

May 14, 2017

Nothin' Doin' - Notice Is Given

Once upon a time before a hip became an appliance of shiny, smooth, almost unbreakable, metal, someone had a dog, a staff of spindly wood, and a large, heavy, mechanical slash electronic image recording device and a goal.

A goal consisting of image satisfaction. One waiting for atmospheric changes that brought bright colors and amazing combinations of elements to wow the mind, the eye, and the heart. Goals worthy of sharing, writing about, and publishing.

Then a subtle transformation, like the barely discernible tilt of the earth through the seasons, edged its way into this life. Sleep or the act of laying in bed without motivation, and unemployed thoughts of those loved, and distantly remembered characters of time entertained an idle mind. 

There was no rushing race to beat the sunrise to the lake, or forest, or surprised clouds of color on the horizon. Those shots had already been shared in memory clouds, on hard drives, on flash memory bits, and in cyberspace. The imaging instrument of choice became noticeably heavier.

The desire to capture ‘that moment’ faded into a ‘meh’. The fire burning in the heart became embers slowly cooling, as one could hold them in a palm of this hand. The immediate need of chasing time slowed to a lazy, listless, limping walk.

Oh, it did not seem like much at first. But like seasonal change, one day it is spring, and then without warning summer heat blasts your face red. On that day notice is given and shockingly received with surprise. Trites ’Didn’t see it coming’ phrase slaps a forehead with a 2x4.

Another process aided and abetted the long slow metamorphosis from active shooter and seeker of distinct perspectives to a less caring, and acquiescent searcher of the unique. The old dog was put down, a harsh choice but inevitable. Walks became less frequent, lacking determination. Desire became a stale drink without fizz or bubbly carbonation.

Without a companion, four-legged or otherwise, breaths of wonder faded into darkness like a slowly creeping fog shrouding the life and clouding the desire. But there is more. It wasn’t just an absence of another life sharing these moments. 

Just one of those long, slow, imperceptible, modified moments that change a life and remain unnoticed until it becomes a routine that shifted into its present state. One becomes comfortable with it. Like a flat tire in the middle of nowhere, a gas tank empty, and no town, or city, or help in sight. One accepts this change and moves forward with it.

Sure, one shoots now and then, looking for abstraction in everyday, ordinary life. Not with fire in the mind, not with desire that causes excitement, and a rage to capture ‘that moment’, but with a goal of slight, subtle, satisfaction finding an unseen point of view of that which is common. 

Any shooter worth their instrument of choice never gives it up completely. There is always a moment anticipated, patiently waited for, or shot when time stops and peaks its moment as decisive as Henri Cartier Bresson knew it.

Thank you. I am grateful for your visit.