People hate travelling with me… Even loved ones and friends.
It’s because, when I bring a camera, I am completely unsatisfied with having seen something unless I have also captured it. The downside to all this is that many times I have minimized the beauty of beholding a vista with my eyes in favor of mediating it through my lens…
There we were, at the Top of the Rock, one of the city’s best and least appreciated viewpoints. Me, with tripod and SLR. My comrades, on their own.
Arriving at 20 minutes prior to sunset, I knelt in position, composed my camera, and hopefully waited for the light to appear.
Having traversed all decks and angles, others in our party noted the time, and their own reasonably aching muscles, wondering aloud why we were still “here”. With subtle irritation, I found ways of noting that “here” was the only place to be, at least for another 15 minutes…
Then, it happened. The sun dropped below a thick layer of cumulescent vapor, the darkness seeped in far enough for incandescent illumination to be turned on, the ebullient blue of space held on tenaciously for the last few remaining minutes, and then The Light was shown across the dimming urban landscape.
Had we earlier lost hope; had we not waited; we would have seen nothing so spectacular. Only the deepening gloom of the receding day would have remained in recollection.
Yet, we persisted, in faith, and, truth be told, in intransigent stubbornness. Thus we were rewarded with a vision far beyond what anyone could have planned.
The year ahead has already been laid heavy with the fear of what is fading away, without much hope for what can be.
But wait for the Light. I believe it will come. And when it does, it will be beautiful.
Perhaps it will not appear as we had hoped, but it just may be more beautiful than we could ever have imagined.