For four days, I visited the rocky mountains and it felt like home. When I knocked at the entrance, Winter greeted me. It was the middle of the night and I was frightened by their shadowy appearance. Nonetheless, Winter welcomed me into their property.
As I entered their manor, the halls were adorned by an almost endless collection of pines. Little pictures of reality accompanied these halls. Where photographs of homes covered in snow were depicted. Amidst the collection of paintings, I enjoyed the many depictions of birds. These feathered friends became less timid as I arrived at my room. Curious at my appearance and various supplies.
Eventually, I arrived at my designated sleeping quarters. The hospitality of nature was virtuous. Snow laid unfazed and prepared, Like a perfectly made bed, I dared not touch it. It would be vile to destroy such a pure element of the mountain.
As the days passed, Winter and I got closer. The nights got colder, I could feel their touch, their frozen yet gentle fingers sliding against my extremities.
The Winter’s embrace would discourage many, as it offers exposure in exchange of discomfort. It trades the warmth of shelter for a frozen getaway.
I saw past these discomforts and allowed the cold to greet me. I allowed the frozen howls of the forest to speak their truths.
On the final day, I allowed Winter into my bed. Where it wrapped their arms against my sides, their chilled breath coloring my cheeks pink. My curls were frozen and stiff, the constant affection of the mountains taking its toll on my hair. As my body began to acclimate, feeling my bones rattle, I looked upon the stars.
The sky was clear. Dots of light began to emerge, multiplying by the seconds. Universes being created and destroyed as I stared at the endless abyss of the cosmos. A terrifying thought for some, but a delightful surprise to me.
I felt fortunate to have stared at the stars. A clear reminder of the gift that is existence. To be given the opportunity to live. This thought began to cultivate as the frozen air distilled my lungs.
Winter began to point at certain clusters of stars. Telling me the many myths, legends and occurrences. Like a child being tucked to bed by a loving parent, I listened gently. My eyelids gained weight as the stories penetrated my laxed ears. With a goodbye kiss, Winter began to turn off all the stars.
I fell asleep.
I woke up looking for my lover. As I turned, my hand reached for their side of the bed. It was Cold to the touch. As I changed my clothes, I began to notice that winter had left in a hurry. Their items were scattered about and were in the process of being cleaned by the new house owner: Spring.
Spring was nice, it came holding gifts. A blue sky and gentler weather. But I was already in love with someone else. Perhaps, just like winter It was finally time for me to move on.
I retained the gifts of Spring as I lowered the mountains. The snowy landscape began to be replaced by a surreal amount of grass. As Ruby drove me away, I couldn’t help but to think about Winter.
Candidly, that Winter in the Rockies will always stay with me. Their captivating beauty will illustrate in my mind better than any photograph. The lessons that it taught me will guide my hand and their gentle touch will inspire me to share my newly gained wisdom.
We may never see each other again, but their mark will leave a lasting impact.
A intertwined feeling of jadedness and restlessness clouded my thoughts. A thin veneer created to disguise my feeling of longing amidst the rockies. As my journey began to take me to the Land of Enchantment, I craved the tenderness adventure could give. The sense of escapism created by the serenity of nature. Without a second thought, I clicked anywhere on my gps, like throwing a dart into a map. “The Garden of the Gods”. It seems that my terrible aim granted me a pass into the heavens.
Halfway through my eight hour drive, I reached the promised land.
Hiding behind a massive hill, a collection of orange sandstone rocks ripped through the landscape. In the same manner a shark’s fin carves the sea. The change of scenery was abrupt, like a volcanic explosion of warmth and color. The clearest blue skies I have seen in days, it contrasted neatly against the orange rock.
It wasn’t sundown, but the shape of the stone branded the land with a heavy shadow. Such pockets of shade reminded me of winter. The absence of heat allowed a quick gust of wind to penetrate my lukewarm body.
This area already oozed idyllic thoughts. An absolute contrast to what my life was a few hours ago. Open areas of greenish yellow grass were neighbors to these amber geological wonders. In fact, you could spot this park from miles away.
It was wonderful to feel the sun’s kisses embrace my skin. Without a doubt, I was unprepared for such sporadic change. My attire was still accounting for freezing peaks and snowy landscapes. Silently being labeled as a bumpkin by the numerous groups of individuals. Man, women, children and… Sheep?
To my absolute delight, I was given a friendly reminder of the true owners of these lands. BigHorn Sheep scattered the surrounding prairies. Posh Creatures. Unbothered by the countless glances of uncouth tourists and visitors. Without being a Dolt, I decided to amicably photograph such grandeur critters.
If this was truly to be a slice of heaven, I visualize that these residents were meant to be angels.
After bowing a “thank you” at the angels, I decided to venture into the park. Letting Fate and Fortune choose a trail on my behalf.
Yet my mind was fried by the passionate thoughts of my newly created musings. I yearned for a nice lot of land to alleviate and organize my thoughts. Yet, Serenity of the mind was not a nicety I was to be given lightly. Fate had other lessons to teach me at the moment.
Arriving at the apex of the trail, I spotted a rock in which many had sojourned before. A miniature version of the main exhibit. Climbing said rock generates a wonderful landscape that truly shows the great scale of this wonder.
Without a second thought, I began to photograph this moment. My camera brazenly picturing the scene. As fast as a machine gun.
My camera’s Stalwartness was commemorable, yet something seemed wrong.
Removing my eyes from my camera’s viewfinder, I came to the realization that I could never truly photograph this wonder. That the images created by my pocket size visualizer could never compare to the genuine emotion given by nature. In a world where we are currently overly saturated with imagery, would I befall to the simple act of photographing my whole life instead of simply living it? A follious act, where we allow ourselves to give the illusion of remembrance through the many forms of media we consume?
So, I put my camera down. Realizing that not all aspects of lives are meant to be photographed. That some are meant to be experienced, no photograph could ever truly create that.
However, I understand that I am an artist. As a self proclaimed adventurer and photographer, I wish to dedicate my life to understand the many aspects that create our reality. The beauty that is the gift of life.
Photographs, in a sense, allow my audience to better understand my emotions and material. To fully refrain from photographing my adventures could limit my musings and teachings to a wide array of individuals.
Perhaps, life did not grant me a chisel and stone. Perhaps, existence did not grant me a paintbrush upon birth. But, the idea of art isn’t as simple as strokes in a painting. To me, what makes art beautiful is the manipulation of the most critical aspect of our reality: Emotion.
Any person can learn to alter pigment onto a canvas, but not any person can make another feel.
In those final moments, Colorado told me to seek balance.
That is my current goal as an artist. To be able to have the strength to live in the moment without delivering empty canvases.But to undertand the tools I am given to enhance the life of those around me.
I don’t want to photograph my life so the world can see me. I want to photograph my life so people can see the world.
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