Meaning-Making Is Both Blessing And Curse
…my mind often buzzes with questions about mundane events…
Red Mountain is in close-up view from a picnic area on the southern bank of the Salt River a few miles north of Mesa, Arizona, where the Bush Highway enters the south-west corner of the nearly three million acre Tonto National Forest. I sat there alone at a weathered and rickety picnic bench one day last week, my attention divided between the mountain and a narrow strip of river where a breeze rippled the surface and trout leaped. I had a notebook in front of me to record what I saw, thought and felt.
A small middle-aged woman wearing a white sleeveless shirt and khaki cargo pants appeared a few yards to my right. She raised a point-and-shoot camera to a foot or so in front of her face, aimed it at the mountain, snapped a photo, then retreated to her car and left. I did not know how long she had been in the picnic area and had no sense of whether she spent time absorbing the view or merely drove up, took her picture, and drove away. Her manner seemed perfunctory, so I suspected that the latter was the case.
My contribution to life on earth at present appears to involve making meaning of experience and sharing it, so my mind often buzzes with questions about mundane events such as those that occurred at the river. Questions such as these: What is this compulsion many of us have with recording our experience, with writing things down and taking pictures? At what point does the compulsion interfere with the experience so that the experience is truncated by thought or by some device such as a camera? What experience might be denied me while I am busy making meaning of the last experience? Why would anyone else care about how I make meaning of experience?
I have come to terms with that understanding of my contribution; I get that it is what I am supposed to do and that I am good at it. But there are times when I’d like to experience a river, a mountain, leaping trout, and a small woman with a point-and-shoot camera, without an urge to record them or to make of them anything else.
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Tags: Arizona, meaning, Photography, Red Mountain, Salt River, Tonto National Forest, Writing
I’m sure there is an irony in this story.
It’s so true, though, Dick, that especially as writers and bloggers we are wearing one hat which carries one intention sometimes to the detriment of another hat, the quiet witness. I know exactly what you mean. I’ve had to remind myself in the midst of a beautiful shoot at, oh, say, a rose garden to experience what I’m catching in the camera!–not simply be overjoyed I’ve found something beautiful to share with my readers. Mindfulness on many levels to be balanced…sounds like you are.
A few potent phrases in your comment Kathryn–
“the quiet witness” and “mindfulness on many levels to be balanced.” You captured the sense of the post nicely. Thanks! And it’s always great to hear, “I know exactly what you mean.”
“But there are times when I’d like to experience a river, a mountain, leaping trout, and a small woman with a point-and-shoot camera, without an urge to record them or to make of them anything else.”
Try experiencing without recording and see what that’s like . . . it might be interesting to just let urges arise, and to let them go . . . meditation in action perhaps?
“meditation in action” — yes, Deb. I once practiced Thich Nhat Hahn’s “walking meditation” with him and about 200 other people in the National Mall, Washington Monument in full view. Beautiful experience. I know how to do it, but remembering to do it is the problem–not my “going-in position.”
Too often the ‘point-and-shoot’ view ends up as a flat, flavorless memory. See and record fewer spots, experience more. Very nice thoughts.
I like your summary Fred: record less, experience more.