In an old journal, I found the following words. Perhaps one day I will polish them, but even a bit rough, I feel inclined to share them, paired with some new images. I suppose I should be sharing a poem, given that it’s Put a Poem in Your Pocket Day, but perhaps there is poetry embedded in these words and images.
Journal Entry: Several friends think that I never go to the dark places. That I always see the light in the world. The glass is always at least half-full. Lemons can always be turned into tasty lemonade. There is no dark so dense where some bit of brightness cannot be found. At such accusations, I usually say nothing or I perhaps point out the beauty of fallen petals upon the ground. I do not to say with indignation, you are wrong because I do go to the dark places. Don’t we all? I do not say, I have seen the dark clouds descend from once-bright skies and settle over once-clear roads. Haven’t we all? But, for me, you know what always happens … even upon the darkened road … eventually? Winds come and blow the clouds away. If there is a lingering dark fog, the sun rises and burns it to a cooling mist, refreshing upon the skin. When I’m in the darkest place, pitch black, I don’t always see the light but I know it’s there somewhere. It has to be. I can feel it even if I cannot see it. Don’t the blind feel the sun on their faces?
Maybe that’s why I write, why I photograph. To show that no matter how dark, light penetrates and reveals certain glories. In the contrasts, the shadows created, the silhouettes that emerge, unique beauty is revealed. That is what I want to convey, in whatever medium feels right in the moment. The simple beauty in this life.
I do not want to ignore the dark, or the fears that spring to life though I may not always share such fears with friends. I will walk the dark roads until the sun rises. I will carry a flashlight or a lit candle and if these items should fail then I will take a deep breath and raise my eyes to the sky and focus on the tiny beacons of the stars. And who knows, I might even see a sliver of moon. All I know is I may walk in the dark – we all do at some point in our lives — but I will not stay there. I will not.
We used squid as the tasty lure. Once the hook had been baited, Steve taught me how to cast (last time the fellow did it for me). As I stood at the rail holding the rod, I was aware of the looks we received from the neighboring fishermen. As you can see I am still not quite up to speed on fishing attire. A few people came over to chitchat. I let Steve do all the talking. I stared out into the sea.
I watched the rippling of the water and the gentle rise and fall of the waves. In the ephemeral light of the cloudy day, every shade of blue appeared on the water’s surface. For just a moment. No fish did I see but I kept imagining them down in the dark depths, nibbling on my squid. Birds flew overhead. Sailboats drifted by. In the end, I caught nothing except of course that calm. Unexpected but welcome. A treat. As Steve and I walked back to the car, and he outlined our strategy for next time so that we’d actually catch something, I realized I didn’t need to a catch a fish. It was the journey that mattered to me, not the destination. When I shared that revelation with Steve, he was quiet for a moment, then said, “I respect your feelings. But let’s test that theory once you actually have a fish on the line.”
Words + Images 