My pictures are never as beautiful as my words, my words are never as beautiful as my thoughts and my thoughts are never as beautiful as reality. The other day I walked out to the end of my road to take some pictures of the budding trees, and I discovered an adventure. At the end of my road stood a row of bright yellow forsythia bushes to the left and to the right a row of pure white trees in the process of budding. I wanted pictures of both. So I began with the forsythia bushes. Some of these shots came out well, but I really came for the pure white trees on the right. There was just something beautiful about how they stood contrasted against the sky. Their peaks were fading from white to green like an upside-down mountain and they were posed so firm next to each other.
As I neared them I walked slowly, as if not to disturb their purity, but as I got nearer the scene slowly began to change. In the air I could hear a buzzing sound, like the engine of an airplane. Then, every so often, I would see little black blots blast past me, moving from one tree to another. As I looked closer I noticed not one or two dozen, but hundreds of bees collecting pollen on these budding trees. I froze and a slight nervousness took over, but I didn’t want to avoid them, I wanted a picture. Standing as far back as I could and holding my camera as close as I could I took a few snapshots.
In this moment, however, I realized something: I no longer wanted to take pictures. I stepped back for a moment. What started as a desire to take pictures of everything turned into a desire to write about my discovery – for I knew my photos would not do it justice. So I stood there trying to think about what I should write, and all I could do was focus on the thoughts and how my words could never convey them well enough. Finally, I decided to just think about it, but soon learned that thinking was not good enough either. The only thing that could capture the moment was reality. Reality alone contained everything and left nothing out. So instead of taking pictures, instead of writing, instead of thinking, I just stood their and observed reality knowing that it alone could contain the beauty of that moment.