This post doesn’t have a single picture in it. Nothing beautifully staged to satisfy the need for eye candy, no pithy social commentary, no delightful vignette, nothing to offer immediate gratification so that you maybe will stay a while to read the story I am about to tell. That’s how it should be, really, for this, because it was trying to capture the moment that I missed it, catching only a brief flicker in the corner of my eye as I was looking at my phone hoping it would have enough power to share this moment publicly.
Two or so weeks ago, my parents came to us for a visit. We haven’t seen my dad for almost a year, and it was a few days of glorious family visiting, and just being together. We didn’t do anything special, we just enjoyed the presence of special people. My mom and I have a tradition, though, where we go on a whirlwind shopping trip to all the neat little shops, enjoying the hunt for quirky things and cramming in as much time as we can together before they leave.
On this last day, the weather was of a sort I’ve never seen here in the lower Adirondacks: warm rain over snow, with thunder and sunshine breaking through. As we were making our way back home, the clouds cleared enough for the setting sun to set, casting a deep, dark peachy orange glow across all the fog and clouds, a color I have never seen before, and which was a physical experience because it was thick in the air around us, catching the haze. Not far from home, as we drove up and over the corn fields, we looked to the right and saw before us the most amazing double rainbow I’ve ever seen. If the orange of the sky was dulled and grayed from the steely clouds heavy with storms, this rainbow was its antithesis: the colors vibrated and glowed so bright it was as if they hummed, like your ears could hear the light waves, and your eyes tingled with the light particles striking them. Like any normal person, I screeched and pulled the car over onto the frozen field to stare in wonder, sitting next to my mom.
And this is when I took leave of my senses, literally. I turned my eyes to my phone, knowing it was dead, trying to power it on so I could take a photo for Instagram. Here’s the most amazing natural beauty I’ve seen in years, and I am futzing around with my phone, to try and use it to do what, exactly? Prove something? Like this rainbow is a message about how awesome life is, my life is?
And then I think the Universe had enough, as if it was pissed at me for paying only a half-assed attention, because in the middle of this double rainbow, with the ominous clouds and fantastical sky over a winter field, a bolt of lightning right through the middle of the rainbow.
And I missed it.
I could have been staring at the rainbow instead of my phone. I could have been enjoying the presence with my mom at my side. And I did, but I was only partially there, because my need to fill up my feeds with awesome somehow seemed more important than my need to delight in the world I live in while it is before me. It is a moment I haven’t finished thinking about yet, for the lesson is a deep and painful one when the Universe slaps you upside the head and bellow “ATTEND!”
Oh Mandy, this is soooo true. I remember (80s) when a video camera became the thing everyone had to have. I was at my son’s kindy sports day and about 75% of parents were watching their children through the eye of a lens – no eye contact when they finished a race, so no chance for them to see the joy and pride in a parent’s face.
we have all had moments like this!! Hugs!
It does happen for all of us. The sad part is that the lens forgets.
My husband and I talk about the behind the lens phenomena a lot, as he is an avid photographer. There are times when we consciously leave the house without any method of social connection or a camera so that the tug and pull and feeling of needing to capture is lessened. The first time I witnessed a space shuttle launch from Kennedy Space Center, it was through a camera. The second time (and I was so lucky to even have a second time) I knew better. Sometimes these moments help refine and inform us in a way that just discussing the topic philosophically never will. My husband and I are flying today to visit friends. We are leaving the cameras at home, but it was a discussion we had this morning as we packed our backpack for the short visit.
Seems odd to comment on my phone. — guilty!
Such an important moment and lesson. I struggle to balance experiencing the present to its fullest and stepping back to record something for the future – especially with my little ones.
And yet your description paints a picture in my mind as vivid or more so than any photograph you could have taken…. recording it in words – saving it to savor again and again…
Thank you, Kat!
A beautifully written reminder, Mandy. As Daisy said, I think we all need to find that balance of documenting life and of enjoying it. When my kids were young, I realized I was doing too much documenting and not enough enjoying. So I had to make a conscious effort to put the camera down, to leave it at home, to maybe snap a few photos and then just watch and marvel at them experiencing life. I think because we are so blessed to live in a time where we can connect and share with people all over the world, we feel like we should be sharing everything. But there are moments where I have to say to myself, “No. This is sacred. This is not for the world, but for me and for the people with me.” I’m so sorry you missed the full splendor of that lightning. But rest assured that more wonderful things and experiences are coming your way!
Part of the problem, too, is this obsession people seem to have with branding, I think, especially personal branding. There’s a weirdness there I haven’t sussed out yet.
Oh, I have had a few moments like this. Yes, a good slap. When I went on my last cruise I consciously did NOT take my camera anywhere with me. I smelled the ocean, I felt the spray on my face, the humidity, the low lying clouds. No camera lens will capture that memory, that feeling. and I was really present. Sometimes I think we try and capture these moments because we want so much for others to share in this beauty. But soaking in that beauty without the camera, without the sharing could possibly lead to some incredible things elsewhere in your life that you could share later 🙂
I really love this. Thank you for sharing!