Ever since it dawned on me that my cell phone has a camera, I’ve used photography as a form of remembrance. Of meditation. Of prayer. It’s not just the act of taking pictures, it’s getting them off my cell, uploading them to my netbook, titling them so that I don’t accidentally overwrite an image, organizing them in some way so that I can find them again. While my focus is on these activities, my mind is quiet and free from its usual chatter. My small still voice speaks to me clearly.
When I was organizing recently uploaded photos this morning, I took special note of the ones in this post. These were taken as I was standing at the bus stop on the corner of Lexington Avenue and East 86th Street, waiting for the westbound M86 bus. I raised my cell and snapped a series of pictures of the new building diagonally across the street from me. I liked the play of light from the rapidly sinking sun on its reflective, sleek, modern surface contrasted with the organic, naked branches of the tree. These pictures were taken within seconds of each other and the light in each picture is noticeably different.
I heard my small still voice whispering to me: “In Life, that’s how quickly things change.”