Conversations With Nature
What Nature Quietly Taught a Photographer of the Soul….
Before we begin... This article is the first part of a series called Conversations….
Over the coming weeks, I will share a few of the quiet conversations that have shaped both my photography and my life - conversations with nature, with my camera, and with light itself….etc…..
This first conversation begins where most of them do: in silence, before sunrise.
For many years, I thought I was going into nature to photograph it….
I thought I was chasing sunrises, reflections, foggy mornings, and beautiful light….(yes, I was…..)
But somewhere along the way, I realized something surprising…..
Nature wasn’t just giving me photographs.
It was giving me answers.
Not all at once…
Not loudly….
Not in a way that could be written down in a notebook….
More like a quiet conversation that has been unfolding for years….
A conversation between me and the world around me….
The funny thing is that nature never speaks in words.
The lake never says, “Slow down.”
The trees never say, “Be patient.”
The sunrise never says, “Don’t give up.”
Yet somehow, if I sit quietly enough, I hear all of it….
I have spent thousands of mornings standing beside water before sunrise….
Most people would probably think I go there to photograph the light.
And yes, I do.
But the truth is that photography sometimes becomes secondary….
Sometimes I arrive carrying questions.
Questions about life…
Questions about the future….
Questions about myself….
I stand there in silence while the world slowly wakes up.
And then something strange happens.
The questions become less important.
Not because they are answered.
But because they become smaller.
The lake has a way of doing that….
When I look across the water, I am reminded that the world is much bigger than the thoughts running through my head…
The lake doesn’t care about my worries…
The trees don’t care about my deadlines…
The sunrise doesn’t care whether yesterday was a success or a failure….
They simply continue being what they are.
And somehow that is comforting….
Nature never seems to be in a hurry.
I have never seen a tree trying to become another tree…
I have never seen a sunrise arrive earlier because it was afraid of being late…
I have never seen a river comparing itself to another river.
Only humans seem to spend so much energy trying to be somewhere other than where they are…
Nature taught me something that I constantly forget and constantly need to remember: Life unfolds in its own time…
One of my favorite places is a small lake where I most of time photograph sunrises.
I have returned there so many times that I know every bend in the path…
Every season changes the scene.
Every morning tells a different story.
Yet the lake remains….
It has seen my best days.
It has seen my difficult days.
It has seen me hopeful.
It has seen me lost.
And every time I return, it welcomes me exactly the same way.
Without judgment.
Without expectation.
Without asking me to be different….
That may be one of the greatest lessons nature has ever taught me.
Acceptance.
The wind does not argue with the trees…
The fog does not apologize for hiding the landscape…
The rain does not ask permission to fall….
Nature accepts itself completely…
Maybe peace begins when we learn to do the same.
Photography has taught me many technical things over the years.
But nature has taught me far more important ones.
Patience.
Presence.
Humility.
Trust….
The understanding that not everything needs to be controlled.
The understanding that not every cloud must move before beauty can appear….
The understanding that sometimes the most beautiful moments happen when nothing appears to happen at all.
These days, I still wake up before dawn….
I still grab my camera.
I still head toward the lake…
But I no longer feel like I am only photographing nature.
I feel like I am visiting an old friend….
A friend who speaks without words.
A friend who never judges…
A friend who always seems to know exactly what I need to hear.
And every morning, our conversation continues…
This is the first conversation.
Next time, I would like to introduce another participant in these quiet morning meetings - the strange collection of glass, metal, and buttons that has accompanied me through thousands of sunrises.
My camera….
Wonderful, thank you!
There’s a lot in this post, both in the images and words, I immediately recognize. What we feel when we’re in nature is similar for a lot of photographers, yet our rendering of it and the words we use to describe it with are different. But that’s on the outside only.