I remember the day and that split-second decision to veer from my normal course. To walk down to the pond at the Saunders-Monticello Trail instead of heading up the mountain. As I turned left along the water’s edge, I noticed the trees looked like line drawings of gesturing arms and dancing limbs. I kept looking. To see, to really see. That is what stops time and makes an instant live on. And it gives us some relief. The moment turns to a meditative pause in our continually moving and changing lives.

I realized the day was a rare occasion. The water was calm and clear and provided a perfect canvas for reflections. And I noticed something else. I was seeing three different perspectives in front of me — the reflection of green trees from the distant shore, the actual trees before me, and the muddy, orange sediment beneath the water. I tried photographing the scene with each layer in sole focus. As I did, it became clear the branches wanted to take the lead. Though both of the other layers render this image more beautiful, what lies before me is seeking focus. The actual branches. Not the reflections, or what is underneath the water. But what I can reach, what I can touch. What I can hold now.

It can be a challenge to stay in the moment and not miss something new based on what we expect to see, what we bring to any given situation based on what we have seen before. From other moments, other places. Older versions of ourselves. I remind myself of this truth when I need to hear it most: I can choose to see with new eyes the beauty of what lies before me even in sorrow or pain. I choose to receive the good that only this precious moment can offer.

~KB