Chiaroscuro

I looked up at the dark predawn sky and saw nothing, looked more carefully and saw the merest hint of clouds to the east.  They were more a dreamy suggestion of what might be a cloud eventually.  Not even that much definition existed.  I even wondered if I was just hopeful to see clouds.  But the dawn came up steadily if not slowly.  

I had a satisfying swim, not just because the clouds had become visible, but because it was the end of a long week of work and I had a full span of daylight in which to be healthy and alive.  I do count my blessings.  I know I am fortunate.  I do not take anything for granted.

It was an immense relief to begin a day that, from the minute I first noticed those dim outlines in the east, suggestions of clouds -- and not simply clouds but grand piles of slowly roiling collections of charged moisture and air currents -- I chose to do the things that were beautiful, pleasurable and interesting.  It's the way I have to regain a sense of what is good and right in life.

We drove to the water's edge, parked and walked a mile or so to a favorite breakfast spot and ate out in the fresh air, and I tasted every bite, eating slowly, savoring my meal.  It was delicious.  We went to the Friday Farmer's Market and took our time walking to and fro, talked to a couple of friends we chanced on there.  Every flower was vivid, each display of greens or fruit was rich with color.  All of it seemed splendid.  The clouds were now thick and white, piled up high like mounds of cream and the wide sky was intensely blue as if painted there by exuberant patriots.

I took a long luxurious nap and ate a late lunch made of the meat and mushrooms we'd purchased earlier.  Fresh, simple flavors.  That's all it was and all it had to be.  Absolute simplicity was exactly perfect, a relief, a splendor.

We walked downtown and saw a movie.  It was a matinee, so we were nearly alone in the theater and wallowed in the happiness of picking our favorite sweet spot in the theater, not too close and not too far away.  I felt like some sort of charm had been cast on the day, a beneficent sweetness that allowed all stress to float away like a film of chaff on a river's surface.  Simplicity was cleansing my spirit, creating a chiaroscuro contrast with the past week of work.  

With a half hour left before sunset, we drove to Asilomar and saw the new version of the early dawn clouds assembling on the western border of the visible sky and the sun gilding the edges of the waves.  It was sunset, 14 hours after I'd first awakened, and the clouds' presence in ever-changing colors and forms reflected the regeneration of my energy, sense of optimism and joy.

Restoration of the spirit is possible.  At times when simplicity is all I can handle, it is simplicity that brings me the greatest peace of mind.

My iPhone 1G Camera Retires

In the wilderness of the urban world, I've been carrying my iPhone 1G to photograph what I see.  It's the original first-generation iPhone I bought when they first came out.  It only has 4 GB, and I've never maxed out the memory, probably because I don't use videos a lot on it.

What's interesting about using a very simple camera like this all the time is:  Its restricted technology makes me deal almost solely with composition.  You cannot rely on tricky features of the camera to get your image right.  No flash, no zoom, no macro focus, just compose and shoot.  I sometimes get a little cranky with the limits it places on focusing sharply and controlling things about it that other cameras can do, but I think that overall I've learned more about what I'm looking at and thinking about why I'm shooting the picture instead of what the camera can do.  I have learned to shoot quickly and pay attention to light that's available to me.  Also, I have to hold very still (reiterating the very first thing I learned in photography).

Now that's about to change a bit.  I'm finally upgrading to a 4G (fourth generation) phone/camera.  It's the same size as the 1G that I have been using.  But now I will have a reversible lens (shoots at me or at you without turning the phone around), more megapixels per file (image), a flash, selective focus and some zooming ability.  Immediately, it makes me think more about the camera than I did before.  It will be that way until it, too, becomes second nature to use, but I don't think it will take long.  Apple makes very intuitive products, and the camera on their phone is designed to be a tool to use and not an implement that introduces frustration like so many other cameras tend to be.

I'm posting a few images here from the last couple of days.  Kind of a tribute to the little iPhone 1G I've carried with me, a trusty tool I've grown to respect and admire.  As I've stated before, probably 90% of my images on this blog are from that iPhone.

The Gratitude KISS (Keep It Simple Sweetie)

Here and there today, I noticed wilting flowers, bird poop, and potholes in the road. That dismal little list hardly accounts for the things I am grateful for, which makes it odd I recall them at all.  It makes me realize something, though, about what I am most grateful for.

In the long intervals of time briefly punctuated by those odd little details, I savored a mellow cup of coffee, meandered along a long line of vendors' tents and tables at the farmers' market, took a leisurely nap, and saw George Clooney in The American at our movie theater here in Pacific Grove.  To top all that off, I had dinner out at a local cafe and a stroll home on this soft late-summer night.  It was a very relaxed and enjoyable day, beginning to end.  That's a fine list of delights to be grateful for, indeed.

I could leave it at that and say good-night, but I keep feeling a sense of gratitude and appreciation for...my existence, I guess.  Just that simple?  I think it goes deeper. 

I appreciate the fact that bird poop and potholes do not rivet my attention, that the world I am privileged to enjoy is beautiful, bountiful and peaceful.  I am not obsessed; I can discern between reality and delusion. I cannot begin to tell you how immensely grateful I am to be able to think clearly about that, to say that coherently, to understand that it is profound.

I work with people who are mentally ill, some of whom are completely undone by a speck of red, believing it is blood and that they will be contaminated.  I work with those who are continuously and forever engulfed in the sound of fierce condemning voices interrupting their every thought, day and night.  I work with people enslaved by drugs and alcohol and those preyed upon by abusers.  They teach me to keep things simple, to appreciate what I have and to enjoy a laugh at any opportunity.

I am healthy, can solve my simple problems, have no complaints to speak of.  Chalk it up to the luck of birth.  By whatever force, I am free to live peacefully.  I am not perfect, and I am very deeply grateful -- almost to an extent that cannot be expressed -- for the ability to notice little things and keep them in perspective.  Surrounding my gratitude is relief that I am fine.  All I need I have, and that's the simple truth.