IPhoto tells me that I have 3,323 photos, and I know that is very conservative compared to many people I know. I love looking at my photos; they transport me back in time to special occasions, outings, great meals and good times. They remind me of loved ones who are no longer with us, and friends and family who live far away.
Isn’t it great to have it all there on the computer? Sometimes when I want to look at photos of my precious Mom, I sift through all the other ones in order to get to the good ones. Other ones like 83 photos of a cousin’s wedding, 47 of the last baby shower we went to, complete with all the ‘mistake’ ones, and another 24 of the baby.
How many do we need? Would 10 good photos of the wedding have sufficed? Two of the pregnant belly? How about 10 of the baby? Naw, I think we need all the ones of the baby.
I have been going through my photos recently and eliminating all the repeats, the ones that make people not look good, and the ones that just don’t matter anymore, like 15 of a turtle I saw on my walk two years ago.
On another thought, when we take multitudinous photos of every event we go to, every restaurant meal we eat and every trip we take, do we not experience the event through the lens of the camera rather than just enjoy the day? We go to the restaurant and take photos of the food, the decor, and then the inevitable group selfie.
Writers write in their head instead of living in the moment; this is such a beautiful scene – how can I describe it – lush colors, blood stained sky, panoramic masterpiece, rather than just drinking in the scene with all their senses. I do that all the time.
The rest of the world takes photos so that they will never forget. The problem is that they miss out on the music, the laughter and the scents that go with that beautiful scene or delectable meal.
My current project is to simplify life by not only living in the moment, but also loving the moment, every moment, and keeping them to memory and sentiment rather than on my computer.
This poem by Wendell Berry captures in a great and humorous fashion, the dilemma of our times.
Once there was a man who filmed his vacation.
He went flying down the river in his boat
with his video camera to his eye, making
a moving picture of the moving river
upon which his sleek boat moved swiftly
toward the end of his vacation. He showed
his vacation to his camera, which pictured it,
preserving it forever: the river, the trees,
the sky, the light, the bow of his rushing boat
behind which he stood with his camera
preserving his vacation even as he was having it
so that after he had had it he would still
have it. It would be there. With a flick
of a switch, there it would be. But he
would not be in it. He would never be in it.