Such Great Heights
So here's what I think the deal is: just when you think life's got you pinned down for the count, something little comes through and taps you on the shoulder. It says "Hey, don't give up just yet, I promise things will get better." But you don't believe it. You just dig your feet deeper into the sand and refuse to move. Like a child promised a special surprise, you demand a glimpse as proof it actually exists. Let's face it, blind faith's a bitch.
Today I got my little glimpse. These crazy storms rolled through the mountains, scaring the crap out of everyone that happened to be outside, but leaving beautiful cloud formations and that partially diffused light that comes through the clouds after it rains. I decided to go shoot some photos, even though I've been lacking in the competant composition area lately.
I went down to the river and got my gear out, setting up my tripod. There were a few people there, two crazy kids decided it'd be cool to go in the river as it swelled from the 3 inches of rain we'd had in the last 30 minutes. But there, at litterally the lowest possible point geographically, I had a little moment of grace. I was at the bottom, both physically and emotionally. So are a lot of my friends. It seems like a rough summer for a lot of people. However, at this one particular moment I felt embraced by the mountains. I felt like they would always be there for me to escape to, like they were promising me they'd stay. And I felt this way about my friends and everyone around me: We're all here, and none of us can controll anything that happends. If things didn't begin and end and feel uncomfortable inbetween then life would be too easy. So I concluded that I would focus on being a mountain as well, and support everyone that needs it while letting them help me out too, however unsucessful we all may be. Just being together usually does the trick.
I left the river with some pictures, and a sense of understanding. Think of it as The Giving Tree with mountains instead of an apple tree. We're here to love and support. Maybe it sounds a bit too ambient right now but it's something I have to keep telling myself, it gets me by. So for now, I'm taking it like I did when I left. One step at a time, up the river bank.
Today I got my little glimpse. These crazy storms rolled through the mountains, scaring the crap out of everyone that happened to be outside, but leaving beautiful cloud formations and that partially diffused light that comes through the clouds after it rains. I decided to go shoot some photos, even though I've been lacking in the competant composition area lately.
I went down to the river and got my gear out, setting up my tripod. There were a few people there, two crazy kids decided it'd be cool to go in the river as it swelled from the 3 inches of rain we'd had in the last 30 minutes. But there, at litterally the lowest possible point geographically, I had a little moment of grace. I was at the bottom, both physically and emotionally. So are a lot of my friends. It seems like a rough summer for a lot of people. However, at this one particular moment I felt embraced by the mountains. I felt like they would always be there for me to escape to, like they were promising me they'd stay. And I felt this way about my friends and everyone around me: We're all here, and none of us can controll anything that happends. If things didn't begin and end and feel uncomfortable inbetween then life would be too easy. So I concluded that I would focus on being a mountain as well, and support everyone that needs it while letting them help me out too, however unsucessful we all may be. Just being together usually does the trick.
I left the river with some pictures, and a sense of understanding. Think of it as The Giving Tree with mountains instead of an apple tree. We're here to love and support. Maybe it sounds a bit too ambient right now but it's something I have to keep telling myself, it gets me by. So for now, I'm taking it like I did when I left. One step at a time, up the river bank.
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