Tags
Aging, Everyday Life, Friends, Photography, Purpose, Wriitng
Sitting outside my borrowed balcony, I thought about life, then recorded an odd mix of thoughts — regular schedule programming stuff as well as that which tends to interrupt the norm.
Questions like — “What to buy for upcoming birthdays?” — mixed with — “What to think about my Arthur Andersen gal pals retiring?” — led to one on the limits of photography: “Is it possible to capture the way a particular vintage of early light washes over surfaces to soften steel rooftops, while making a far-off tree defining my horizon, turn red and aglow, each limb and leaf separate and distinct?
The camera is poor help in recording glimpses of reality. Maybe its fully programmable nature is in part to blame. After all, the images it takes are limited by what it’s programmed to record. Since the sky shouldn’t be mauve, light-washed with orange, perhaps the camera filters out those glorious shades so that the sky ends up bleached of color. And while the red of the horizon tree is there, its distinctive shaped edges are lost in translation. By the time the camera and its lens has done its best work, that glorious tree has become a mere smudge of itself.
Looking at image after failed image, I began to wonder whether the camera didn’t do its job just right. That is, what if the image the camera actually captured, WAS the reality of things? What if it was my eye or mind that allowed me to see a different reality, inviting me to see something more than that which was really there to record by machine? Perhaps I looked out on that tree and saw not only its goodness and raw beauty, but as “like calls to like”, could it be that I beheld hints of hidden reality, shimmering beyond my camera’s ability to capture?
Stories of old friends, told around the table Saturday night, made me wonder similar thoughts, regarding the direction of my life. They all have such grand plans. And hearing them dream made me wonder whether I was living my quiet life as I should or whether there were other, more important things, I should be devoting myself toward.
One gal pal, recently retired from her high-powered tax career, is helping to plant a new Methodist church in Kentucky. Another is making plans to travel to Africa, with hopes of helping women and communities by sharing her business expertise. Another, just returning home, after years of living in South Florida, is looking forward to finding another job. Not so much for the income, but for connections with the new community she is transplanting into. She knows not what, only that there will be something with her name on it.
Can I see myself in Africa? Or helping to plant a church? Or entering the work force again — especially in days of a shrinking job market? No. Not really.
But do I dismiss too quickly? Is it possible my own distant vision, when it comes to seeing my own abilities and potential, is as faulty as this morning’s camera lens, when focusing on the sky and that red tree? Do I white out multicolored adventures by concluding they aren’t for me. Could my regular scheduled programming of life keep me from focusing properly on a fuzzy horizon?
If not Africa or church-planting, then what else might be lying just beyond that horizon whispering my name?
an everyday life 
Good question to ponder… Africa or church planting sounds too lofty and huge a project. I’m just taking care of two elderly folks and blogging. I think I have my plate full for now. Having said that, I wish I could do something more fantastic… go to another country to start something completely different. BTW, these are beautiful photos, I particularly like the last one. Thanks for sharing.
Linda’s right — when in comes to caring for parents — or, for that matter, care of any loved one — there is no ‘just.’ Why it’s the highest form of love and service we can offer to another.
Both of my pals — the one dreaming of Africa and the one planting the new church are fortunate in many ways. But limiting it to two– not only do they still have both parents — but they have a mother and father, who more or less, still live independently. Should this change, priorities will shift. Yours will become theirs; and dreams of Africa and that new church planting will simmer on the back burner.
Getting away for a few days is good for the soul. Changes of scenery shake me loose of the same-old thinking and doings — and encountering those friends, who are raring to make dreams a reality, offered me a double dose of shaking up. I’m still thinking what the latest encounter with my friends may mean to me and my life. They reminded me a lot of a “ten-year-ago me”, when I, too, was freshly ‘retired’ from the labor force — with a heavy load of dreams in my hip pocket.
As for the photos, especially those with Texas wildflowers, it’s hard to take a bad photo. Especially with automatic programing! 🙂
Like Arti, I love the photos, especially the one of the wildflower field.
Your questions are good – but as one who’s “been there, done that” in a number of ways,including trekking off to Africa and helping to establish a young congregation, I can’t help pointing out one of those unavoidable realities of life – no matter how grand the plan, no matter how exotic the posting, life “out there” is pretty much like life here.
It’s ordinary, and it’s daily. The frustrations may be different, but they’re still frustrations. There may be wonderful things accomplished, but there may not. There may be less clarity, not more, and in the end, the ones chasing the dream may (may) find it a nightmare.
That’s not to say the grand gesture’s to be avoided, but sometimes it can take more energy, courage and vision to meet the real needs right in front of us. Arti says she’s “Just taking care of two elderly folks?” Shoot, I only had to take care of one, and it about did me in! That work was about as ordinary, daily and un-grand as it comes – at least by some standards. But if I hadn’t done it, who would have?
If I’ve learned anything in life, it’s that there can be a huge chasm between what I want to do and what needs to be done. I keep trying to remember that!
How perfect a response, in that you are able to speak about life on both fronts from experience. Can’t believe I forgot about your time in Liberia!
Your words — “It’s ordinary, and it’s daily.” — really speak to me. They remind me of words written by Kathleen Norris — in particular, from her short book, The Quotidian Mysteries — so perhaps I could benefit with a dose of her words right now. Something about reading Norris helps me think fresh about my own life — while in the midst of everyday life.
Yet, time in the Hill Country was wonderful. Even as I snapped away with the camera, taking photo after photo of wildflowers, I thought more than once of your recent trip to West Columbia. Sometimes, as I looked out the window on familiar sights — some natural, some man-made like HEB! and Central Market — I caught myself thinking — now, why in heaven’s name did we ever move? And now, I remember — I wanted to be nearer to my parents and children!
Thanks for sharing.