We’ve taken a lot of pictures on our sabbatical journey. As of today, one thousand, five hundred and fifty-two to be exact, a nominal amount. Some are great, some not so great. A few the kids took easily, most it was like herding cats. Many have incredible memories attached. Some, not so much. That is the reality of a photograph.
Our use of pictures has rapidly increased the last few years with incredible progress in camera and photo sharing technologies. Instagrm, Pinterest, the iPhone and of course Facebook have found us dumping hoards of our best (and worst) images into some cloud based vortex. I have nothing against this and love to not only share our images, but engage in the lives of others in this way.
What’s really going on behind the pictures? That’s what I want to know. I want to be there, to experience the story, not just voyeuristically watch from my computer or phone. Why? Well, because the reality is (and we all know this) a picture only captures a moment.
That moment may be as good as the picture. Maybe it’s better or in lots of cases the photo leaves us with a feeling of beauty when the moment was anything but. Pictures don’t capture the smells or feelings or dialogue. That’s part of their value. They capture but one nanosecond, a mere glimpse of time.
A picture is worth a thousand words, the moment itself a million.
I love our pictures from this trip. They capture joy and goofiness and exhaustion. Time with friends and family and the growth of my beard. They remind me of the memories and moments we had that are now gone. But they can never replace the moments themselves. I’m glad a picture is worth a thousand words. I’m filled with joy that the moments themselves would fill volumes.