Tag: change

Be the bear…

We’re living in uncomfortable times. For many of us, social circles have shrunk and our outings, should we take one, take place in anonymity or the virtual world. Masked, and muffled by being masked, there are no chance engagements with strangers. The news doesn’t stop, though. Life does go on, and each painful, horrendous event that’s disclosed becomes a magnet to hoards begging to be seen as part of that inner circle—leeching off the pain of victims, revictimizing those directly affected. In a world inundated by social media and choking with videos screaming look at me, look at me I want to be the bear.

I publish more photographs than I used to on my own social media pages because I’m aware that people haven’t been traveling and it’s a way of connecting and passing along to others the beauty of our natural world. I’m especially proud of the ones that are shared by my favorite science-based sites like EarthSky, Les Cowley’s AtOptics, and The Cloud Appreciation Society. Collectively, those sites have inspired and educated me—where were these people when I was young and wondering what to do with myself?! Fortunately it’s never too late to learn and I’m grateful to the scientists, physicists, and field experts who share their knowledge with me.

The morning light is golden and burnishes the leaves of the undergrowth—a stark contrast against the skeletal trees, reminders of a past fire. The sounds and the sights of the mountains and forests sustain me. They calm and enchant me while reminding me that change still exists.

In the image above, a bear sits high up on the mountainside, oblivious to the cars driving below. At peace with the moment he’s in. Is it an amazing photo? No, it was taken at the outer reaches of my telephoto lens, but it made me stop and think look at him, look at him!

Live your truth, reconcile your path, and if you can…be the bear.

Scars…

from a different viewpoint.


All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another.

Anatole France

On a recent flight my seatmate was a woman slightly older than myself but as you do in close quarters, we began to chat. Summing up your life history in a few short sentences is somewhat freeing. Each time you share your story, even if it’s with someone you’re likely never to see again, it opens the door to healing scars that may not be visible from the outside.

Gazing out over the mountains below she spoke with regret of the place where she had gotten married, a place that I have been to on several occasions and each time have been seduced by its beauty.

You see it burned in the fall of 2017, 19,303 hectares in the park itself. She said it was now ugly, it would never be the same, and she likely would not return. I was surprised by that reaction, so at odds with my own. I shared some images with her that I had taken over the last two years but where I saw signs of strength and survival she saw only haunting scars.

She’s a breast cancer survivor and I couldn’t help but wonder what she feels about herself when she confronts a mirror. When I see scars, especially devastating ones, I always think of the strength that it must have taken to push beyond that and to survive.

Change is a good thing. It gives us the opportunity to create a new narrative and to perhaps do a better job when we tell the next story.

Be optimistic, be brave, and most of all be kind.