There is that old Paul Simon song that pops up in my mind when my brain gets weary: Maybe I Think Too Much. Thinking is sometimes a curse. I’ve never solved much from thinking through anything. But, it hasn’t stopped me from trying. My mind is a trickster. It does its thing regardless of my deeper wishes. A walk on the old rail path with my camera usually gets me out of my head and into a better state of presence.
Along the rail path are plants that seem to thrive regardless of anything I do or don’t do. As I walk by them they remind me that they are still there. They grow without me, thrive without me, die without me. If I choose to, I can revel in the opus of nature. No matter—it will do its thing whether I am present or not. The boggling complexity of nature’s work is done without effort. Mountains are built. Birds learn to fly. Everything abides by the proportions of sacred geometry. Only I seem to think too much.
It is the magic of photography to slow us down. The twitch of the finger on the shutter requires no thought. It simply acknowledges what is there. The click is an affirmation. “Yes!” All is well, all has always been well. The universe swirls with effortless magic. Only I seem to think too much.