Sandy, my dear hubby, recently read my post on Nantucket. His comment was, “It didn’t feel nearly that serene while we were there . . .” Sandy’s comment got me thinking about how blogs, and photographs in general, provide such a selective window into someone’s life. I’ll use the photographs from the second part of our wonderful summer vacation to illustrate my point.Photography constantly amazes me with its ability to capture such singular and beautiful moments, whether they be joyful or serene.
This turned out to be a boon. I love this shot of them standing apart because they didn’t trust being close to one another.
So, when you look at beautiful blogs and despair, keep the faith. It’s not that those bloggers’ lives cannot possibly be that perfect, because they can’t, really. Its more that these special, serene, lovely moments are in all of our lives. You just have to keep your eyes open for them.
I’m so glad B straggles behind, because look how I caught him here:
You don’t see me getting wildly bitten by mosquitos here – but doesn’t it look lovely and peaceful?
So glad Sandy asked me to go get the forgotten camera, because look what I saw on the way to the house:
So glad I bartered with my husband to take a run instead taking my turn to make breakfast for the kiddos, because look at the light I found at the end of the tunnel:
Or, the little bit of green hope I found in a patterned sea of concrete:
These five shots above were all taken with my iphone and the addition of an instagr.am filter. Truly, these beautiful moments, these creative visions, exist in all our lives. But, it takes practice to be aware of them, see them and capture them.
So, in thinking of our time in Nantucket – the quietness, the relationship building, the fun, the pure joy that I described in my post – it was all there. It all occurred, but of course, these moments were sandwiched within every day crazies and drama.
But, if this blog has taught me one thing, it is that if we slow down enough, we can capture the quiet, touching, beautiful moments in our lives.
And, then, I need to remember to put down that camera once in a while so that this isn’t how all my friends and family will remember me . . .