Filtered light, like water.
written by Julie R. Neidlinger 2 comments link this post
Photo by Travis Rohrer.
I need to remember the quality of hindsight. It's always clearer.
It always sees things as they are, not as they were. Hindsight may be looking back, but it sees, strangely, not in past tense.
It sees as it is, not was.
Since I've been home from Nicaragua, I have spent about 80 percent of my waking time sifting through discs of photos, and piles of video footage. My eyes are a little bleary, and last night I crashed around 2 a.m., falling asleep on top of my bed in my clothes, pulling a blanket and my cat around me.
After a while, I started to see the trip as mere clips and footage and still shots that I had to organize into various videos for different purposes: a funny video for the group members, a photo montage with music for the church presentation, and a short video with footage showing a little of everything we did.
But then today, as I was going through all of the photos I'd collected, I came upon this one. It was taken by Travis, and it really caused me to stop and look.
I don't remember this moment. In fact, my back is to the light and the rest of the group is busy singing or looking at song sheets. I don't think any of us saw this moment like it was in this photo, the way it was captured through the filtered lens of Travis' camera.
I was in the moment and didn't even see the light.
If there was ever a sobering footnote to my life, that's probably it.
I read my initial post, written upon immediate arrival back home just a few days ago, and I understand that though it is what I felt, I didn't see everything fully; I won't, probably, for years. Going back over the video footage that I shot, I realized I didn't even have any idea of what I was seeing through my own camera. I see smiles and hugs, and hear off-camera talk that I missed completely. I see subtle gestures and glances and the odd little tics each group member had. I hear my own voice and laughter, and understand there was so much more that I missed!
I've come to understand and even accept, with some dismay, that human nature is to never really live in the moment. I purposefully work very hard to grasp the now -- Julie! I would think as I sat out in the early morning breeze of the silent courtyard, reading my Bible. Remember this! How it sounds, how it feels, what you think, what God is telling you! How you love this experience, these people, your group friends! -- but even at my best I see, with hindsight, that I was grabbing at water.
There was a time when I was fascinated with thinking about the use of water as a metaphor in the Bible. I came to some kind of understanding of how to look at water as a stand-in for life.
I can't grab water. It always slips through my fingers. But even then, my hands stay wet for a while and I can look at what's left and understand just a little bit more about the nature of what went away so quickly before I could study it. I like that.
It doesn't make me sad, so much, when I understand the nature of it. That doesn't mean I'm not still thirsty.
So I like this photo. I was in the light, filtered through trees and lens and time, even if I didn't know it. In it I see what's past now, but I know I was there and some of it still lingers and makes it present. And that's beautiful.
Labels: nicaragua, nicaragua 2008
Copyright (c) Julie R. Neidlinger 2/15/2008 10:16:00 PM
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2 Comments:
Beautifully expressed.
I don't know that I would agree with you about feeling dismay at the reality of human nature. I see our inability to fully live in the moment as just one part of our life journey. It is elemental to our being reflective and contemplative.
I do like the use of water as a stand-in for life. Your hands remaining wet for a time does allow for reflection and contemplation.
But do keep in mind that sometimes when we look back in hindsight we see what we wish to see, not necessarily what is.
By 
Rey, at
16/2/08 06:53
I agree with rey, BEAUTIFULLY EXPRESSED
That shot is amazing, GOOSEBUMP amazing! And I love the water analogy, never thought of it like that-- what you expressed rings profoundly true.
My husband and I have two boys, and three years ago a 13 year old boy beat up by life circumstances, whom I was teaching in Sunday School, came into my office at our farm equipment store and asked for a job for the summer. I have never seen anyone do such a courageous thing as that boy did, coming into my office that day. We just found stuff for him to do that summer.
The Holy Spirit in one body often recognizes the Holy Spirit in another, and familial bonds can be formed nearly instantly, in spite of circumstance and logistics.
My point being, last night I got out the photo albums, and for the past three years, in every one, there are photos of the third boy, along with our own two. And while I had known it all along, on some level, it wasn't until I contemplated, and paused to reflect, and viewed what was OBVIOUS in those photos-- that the truth sank in on a very deep level-- we have three boys.
Reflection is sort of like solidifying that water... and so I think the key is allowing one's self lots of time to contemplate and reflect, in order to grab onto something tangible from that water, you know, like an ice cube, HA
By Andrea, at
20/2/08 10:03
