You know how a photograph captures a particular moment? Back in the days of print-only photos this was especially true as photos were fewer and farther between. Nowadays we can take thousands of photos. One of my closest friends has over 20,000 photos on her phone. I mean, really?! The glorious and multi talented author Alexander McCall Smith wrote a book, ‘Pianos and Flowers’, which follows the narrative of choosing a photo and forming a story from this. What an excellent literary idea to share with us all. In one of these stories there is a picture of several people in groups, couples, and alone on a lawn in front of a stately home. Captured timelessly in black and white. He notes that one couple are pictured stopping and looking at a statue on the lawn, ‘and then walk out of the picture, into the rest of their lives’. Reading this stopped me in my tracks. The realisation that at any given moment a snapshot is taken of where we are and who we are with and what is of foremost concern for us. And then, very shortly after, we walk out of that picture, and into the rest of our lives. Sculpture artist Daisy Bomans creations remind me of this http://daisyboman.artists-oftheworld.com/ That we do not live static lives, we are always in some kind of motion, even if this is internal.
We are emerging from a time frame when the snapshot seems to be on repeat, or at least like a film reel running in perpetual slow motion.
This moment for you, where you find yourself – it is not framed in. There will be a time when you walk out of this photo, this snapshot, this picture, into the rest of your life. There may be some bits you may cherish and wish to take with you. There may be some you cannot continue to carry, characters who will be missing from future frames. We cannot remember all our moments, though they all change us. But if you pick any given one from your life, a frame that you wish to cherish forever, or a frame you wish never took place, it is as true for that frame as for any other, ‘This isn’t everything you are’ (Snow Patrol). There are more photos to be taken. More steps to take. Because everything changes, even the dependable tide. The tide which to me seems like such a very constant, rhythm. Even the tide changes, day by day, travelling a little more or less farther, every day changing when it will arrive and leave. If the tide is allowed to change, if the tide is allowed a little wiggle room, well then, so are we, even as we pass from this picture into the rest of our lives.
Has the tide heard of the moon?
Is the tide aware of its' own movement in and out? Does it remember every shore it has covered before? Or does it always discover the shore anew? Does the tide know, as it crashes and furls That it follows a pattern greater than its' own ebb and flow?
Has the tide heard of the moon? This far away pull that daily shifts the time and reach Of the otherwise dependable, predictable tide? Has the tide ever noticed in the dark of the night a shimmering silver light casting a path over its' waves The reflection of the face of her distant cousin on which so much depends, though the tide is unaware.