No Title

Painted Grassy Hill

 

Have you ever found yourself sitting in class, or reclining on a hillside beneath a beautiful sunny day, and realized the depth of things within which you were immersed? Walking along, deep in thought or worry about the difficulties of the day, it’s pretty easy to walk along a path or through a front yard, lost in the list of things to do.

But sitting among blades of grass spiraling up out of the earth, I look out around me and open my eyes. Life is sorted into layers upon layers; first details of the grass, before the grass itself, before blades together composing the field into which each is lost. Beyond that are the hills whose curves the field blankets before reaching to the trees just over the ridge, where shadows from clouds in the sky lazily skim across the horizon before getting lost in the curature of the earth itself.

What could be sorrowful in a world such as this? I imagine sitting there, camera raised up before my eye. I slowly cycle the lens, focusing close up and slowly panning out until those things nearby are lost in blurred fuzziness and the horizon is framed in crisp detail.

Does a stream of consciousness need explanation? Does an article need a title? Stop for a moment and try a new lens. There’s so much to see.

 

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