One of my favorite things to do is look at pictures. My fondest memory consists of sitting on the floor at my great grandma’s house and going through photo albums. It was what I looked forward to the most when we went for a visit. I loved the stories that went along with each picture. More though, I loved that the pictures themselves said more than what the spoken stories told.
I happen to like taking pictures as well. I am no photographer, but, there is something that happens to me when I am behind the camera: I feel inspired and I feel as though I become part of something larger than ordinary life. Maybe I should take some courses to improve my skills, or maybe I should just continue not thinking and just snap away not worrying about the result.
I do not remember where this particular photo was taken or why I even decided to take the shot. I see nothing except overgrown grass and darkness. I wonder what my thoughts were at the time. I wonder why I was standing in the midst of overgrown grass. Was I trying to take a picture of something that merely was hidden in the darkness past the power of my lens’ ability?
Funny how often in life beyond the camera I do the same. I get caught up in trying to see into the darkness––instead of focusing on the overgrown grass I am in the midst of…
Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.