Saturday, I took a walk with my dogs (of course)...total of five,
including me. It was midway through our biggest snowfall yet this year--twelve inches over 24 hours--and it was after sunset, so I could feel the big, fluffy flakes tickle my nose but I couldn't see them. Not, that is, until I photographed a few scenes along the Rouge which rivers through our neighborhood. Then, magically, the flakes appeared like tiny Tinkerbells of light, floating across the front of my camera lens. At first I thought the flakes were on my lens and tried to wipe them away. When I realized they were actually drifting from above, I let my excitement carry me away and began snapping wildly to see how many I could 'catch' digitally.
And then I began to think about this phenomenom, new to me, but probably not to most photographers.
What other aspects of our lives do we know exist, can sometimes feel, but cannot see, until they reflect the light?
Emotion--love, regret, fear, joy--and the range between all these; the essence of our heart.
Spirit--the food of our soul, the invisible connection between ourselves and our world as it is now, as it has been experienced by those before us and as it will exist tomorrow.
Knowledge--the stuff of brains which sets us apart from animals and plants because it enables us, for better or worse, to remember our past, anticipate our future and contemplate our demise.
And from where does the light shine that illuminates these three, renders them visible?
It shines from us, from the way we live and the way we treat every living creature we encounter.
If these encounters are not brilliant, emotion, spirit and knowledge will still exist, but we will lose out--we will not enjoy the childish joy that they inspire.