I’m feeling particularly distracted today, especially after taking a delicious afternoon nap. Before I call it quits on reviewing pathology lectures, I wanted to stop by and share some of my Big Sur pictures. These are my favorites from the trip.
I feel unknowledgeable. About technique. About cameras and all their finicky parts. (What do I know-or understand- about crop factors? Zilch.) I want to hide my cameras into a dark, cobwebby corner of my closet along with my photography aspirations.
But these pictures make me happy. I have no clue if they’re correctly exposed or accurately use the rule of thirds. I just like them and the quiet satisfaction I feel upon looking at them. I remember the awe I felt being immersed in nature and how acutely aware I was of the fragility of life and my many blessings. And that is enough.
Sometimes when day after day we have cloudless blue skies,
warm temperatures, colorful trees and brilliant sun, when
it seems like all this will go on forever,
when I harvest vegetables from the garden all day,
then drink tea and doze in the late afternoon sun,
and in the evening one night make pickled beets
and green tomato chutney, the next red tomato chutney,
and the day after that pick the fruits of my arbor
and make grape jam,
when we walk in the woods every evening over fallen leaves,
through yellow light, when nights are cool, and days warm,
when I am so happy I am afraid I might explode or disappear
or somehow be taken away from all this,
at those times when I feel so happy, so good, so alive, so in love
with the world, with my own sensuous, beautiful life, suddenly
I think about all the suffering and pain in the world, the agony
and dying. I think about all those people being tortured, right now,
in my name. But I still feel happy and good, alive and in love with
the world and with my lucky, guilty, sensuous, beautiful life because,
I know in the next minute or tomorrow all this may be
taken from me, and therefore I’ve got to say, right now,
what I feel and know and see, I’ve got to say, right now,
how beautiful and sweet this world can be.
Sometimes | David Budbill