Off the grid

One of the spoils, the pleasures if you will, of being close to the ocean is that during the off-season, everything feels quieter….


…unhurried…


…introspective…

…unspoiled…

…undisturbed…

…calm…


…spacious.

North

A few days ago, the cold felt punishing. Yes, I have preference for cold versus hot days, but when the air is already cold at zero degrees Fahrenheit, then enhanced with a windchill of -15, well, that may be enough to reconsider that preference.

I’m fortunate that I can retreat to places where the cold and wind don’t feel as threatening. From the safety of these retreats, I philosophize on the dual sides of nature, of how something that can appear simple and beautiful and minimal can deliver a reality check powerful enough to humble any aesthete caught up in winter’s vanity.

Do you get the feeling that winter provides a sense of calm? The calm I speak of provides a level of reassurance. This winter calm is a metaphorical blanket, one which acts like a shield from unwelcome and sometimes sudden vicissitudes. Such a blanket stops–albeit briefly–the weariness of having to deal with things that keep us from finding a particular quiet.

And when the quiet is welcoming, the alone time is curative…

Future tense within the present

In the past several months one expression seems to echo in my comings and goings and it goes something like, “…well, there’s 10-minutes I’ll never get back…”

Typically it has an air of regret, of time spent that could’ve been used in a different or better way.

Let me shift the lens or the perspective a bit and instead say, “….the next 10-minutes has got be better than the previous ten…”  

[Really] Low Tide

The claim is that “over 160 billion tonnes of seawater flow in and out of the Bay of Fundy twice a day.”

I would be grateful if I could purge my mind of all the thoughts and sentiments that don’t add to my quality of life. If I could do that twice a day, I wouldn’t be sure if I’d be a more genuine version of myself. Hence, perhaps once a day would be sufficient. Let’s not get greedy now…!

Somnambulism + Camera

There are 2 places where solitude, a camera and myself synchronize: the ocean and the woods. Maybe it’s a condition borne of meditation and yoga though the common denominator in all of this remains to be solitude.

These are the places that help me roam without getting lost in the all-too-many distractions of work, deadlines, demands, expectations and disappointments. The same places also help me acknowledge my fortunate standing in life and when I do recognize it, a lot of negativity bias dissipates more easily.

Light Chaser-2

Because I’m more of a “night-owl” it’s somewhat easier for me to take photos towards the end of the day. Actually, the later part of a day is when my brain starts to ramp up. Most of my images are serendipitous, which by the way is, how a lot of photographs become interesting.

The space between me and the street below stands 25 floors. All the views I see are through a thick piece of window glass. None of our windows open, not even a crack. That’s a good thing because if these large windows were to open, I suspect we would see more bugs and some birds in our work space.

Dealing with glass not quite crystal clear and uniform is far better than trying to deal with insects and pigeons…well, for me anyway.