The present moment

Teaching myself, or trying to teach myself to be present is met with very little ease. As I am asked to be present, I contemplate what that means I must do. Is it that I must touch, smell, and take it in for all that it is in that moment? What if I use past memories, to bring meaning to the present? Does that mean, I’m cheating my present by remembering it through the past?

I walk, and decide that I am allowed to use the past to embrace the gifts of the present. I choose to use my camera as a portal so that I may catch and preserve my present.

I embrace and pay attention of what my surroundings bring to me, and wonder, maybe too much on what conclusions they bring me.

1st a picture of the Sunset. So simple to acknowledge yet something that I usually do not allow myself to embrace. Faced with the ideas and plans of the future or even the act of reminiscing the past are too often used as an escape from what is before me.  As I walk in the shadows of light, I feel its heat and energy course through my body. I am only yet another spectator who is able to capture its many sides of beauty. I am privileged.

sunsetadvantage

 

2nd Picture car in cemetery. Finally paying attention to the world around me, I am made aware of the amount of life taking place before me. I find myself unable to catch up to nature, watching birds fly by, dragonflies make love in mid-air (impressive), ants renovate a new mound, and in the midst of all this still managing to listen to the knowledge being spoken around me. I am almost repulsed but more so overwhelmed by the beauty and the perfectness of it all. I am not the type that can handle too much good in life, let alone natural beauty. I almost become sick with happiness but then in the distance, I see a person visiting a deceased loved one in the local cemetery and my heart is calmed by the idea of death. For how could I truly appreciate life in the present if there are no limits, if there were no end. My respects go out to the evening visitor; I too, have made that trip… too many times to count.

 

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3rd picture. Bird. Much chatter is going, it is hard to say what others are actually taking in. Yet in mere camouflage, the eyes of a fellow walker catch what the heart wants to see… nature in its purest form. We watch as the bird takes in its supper time, oh the art of catching ones food… a lost art for most.

birrrd

4th picture Beaver’s work. Left behind a few stumps, I seen an example of the pure raw strength that nature and its children have. My mind is perplexed on how to approach such forms of work. I am not educated much on beavers but I speculate that the beaver used pure instinct to gather supplies to build its home, not just a place to live but a home. Which I believe is safe to say that we all seek a home, physical or not.  Yet on the other hand, the destruction and emptiness left behind by what I consider is living through natural instincts scares me to think of what destruction I have left in my own path. Note to self: become aware of the effects that my instincts have.

workwelldone?

5th a video of a moth.  I see the struggle of life. No need to know the story of how it got there or why it is there, all I see is a struggle that life has created. I stand above it, to bring attention to it on purpose to gauge people’s reactions. As I suspect, the moth itself is noticed, but the struggle it goes through is almost in a sense sugar-coated. No real worry for the moth is conjured, the beauty of it is acknowledged the most. Then surely, one by one each person leaves it. Yet I stand hovering above it. I see it struggle but more than that I can feel it. I can only imagine death is to come to it soon. I contemplate what would I want on my death-bed. Would I want people to come to see me as I struggle, to see me at my weakest point yet only compliment me on the beauty I give as they leave me alone to die or would I want someone to end my suffering for me. In the end, I kill it. I walk away questioning if that was really my choice to make… I am a beaver in this moment of instinct.

Thestruggle