Did you hear the story of the photographer who visited the Grand Canyon and took millions of photos of the awe-inspiring sights, and then later realised that he hadn’t seen a thing despite having his eye glued to his viewfinder the whole time? He retraced his steps, his camera dangling idly by his side, and looked at everything properly.
I wonder: do we fail to see the bigger picture when we view the world via our cameras and phones? Perhaps we don’t look carefully and take in what’s before us.
We might not breathe deeply and inhale the smells. Are our hands not free to touch? We might cry, “Wow!” in awe, but is our attention soon diverted as we rush greedily to the next photo instead of exhausting the scene before us?
Even when we recognise that we’re missing out by grabbing as many photos as possible, it’s still hard to put the camera to one side and enjoy the world empty-handed, isn’t it? We want to imprison as many moments as possible, like birds in a cage, afraid they might fly away. Why aren’t we content to savour what’s in front of us and then let each moment drift away, knowing it has changed us in some mysterious and unseen way forever?
Sometimes, we’re too busy capturing images and storing them for future enjoyment that we fail to enjoy the moment as it’s happening.
“Smile!” I say to my kids for the hundredth time and press the button on my phone.
Instead of eating the finger bun, bought as an unexpected treat, savouring each delicious crumb, I direct my camera towards it. Snap! Snap! I return my attention to my kids. I wonder: did I take a photo of them all together?
“Move closer to each other. Smile!”
My girls ignore my command. “Haven’t you got enough photos, Mum?”
“A few more then I’ll leave you alone to eat the finger buns,” I promise.
Faces turn stiff. A barrier is raised. I’ve spoilt the moment.
When I look at my photos later, I see my girls trying to please me by posing before my camera. I remember how smiles disappeared and bodies turned stiff because of my insistence.
I don’t think about the strong summer light bouncing off our sun-screened skin, my girls’ glowing eyes as they opened their mouths wide to eat their buns, their tongues licking off the pink sweet icing from their lips. I can’t remember…?Oh, there must be so many details of that glorious morning, I can’t recall because I never noticed them as they were happening.
Despite acknowledging the downside of seeing life through a lens, I’m excited because I have a nifty new phone with a brilliant camera. I can’t wait to try it out!
There’s definitely a time and place for photography, isn’t there? For example, photography is a creative art. I love the challenge of producing attractive images.
Also, photos are valuable when it comes to homeschool record keeping. We can easily snap evidence of learning with a click of a button. But photos don’t really tell the story of unschooling. They’re a pale reflection of the real thing. They don’t contain the experiences engraved on our souls. Fortunately, our photos satisfy those who can approve or reject our homeschool registrations.
But do they satisfy us? Will one day, we wish we’d spent more time looking at our kids with wonder and awe instead of saying, “Smile!” all the time as we clicked the camera button?
Do Beautiful Photos Fail to Tell the Whole Unschooling Story?
I said: But photos don’t really tell the story of unschooling.
Here’s a story that explores that idea:
We could post loads of pictures of smiling kids involved with impressive activities or running wild and free, surrounded by the spectacular beauty of nature. How about sharing photos of the stunning places where we live? Or visit? The campervans, the rustic cottages, the self-sufficient farms, the yurts, the attractive bits of our more conventional homes, the piles of interesting books and other resources?
We could share eye-catching images that might convince everyone that our lives are indeed beautiful, maybe even perfect.
But can photos adequately tell the story of an unschooling life? Or do they capture only the surface beauty of our days? Could they miss the deeper and more significant beauty of this way of life?
What about the beauty associated with the times…
A Challenge
How about we put our cameras aside occasionally and absorb the moment as it happens? We could leave our phones in our bags or pockets, while out and about. Instead of taking photos, we could listen, talk, feel, smell, look, touch, and hug.
We could slow down and savour the moment. By doing this, we’ll be connecting with our kids and what’s happening around us. We’ll be communicating the message, “There’s nothing more important than you and our time together here in this place.”
And if we really can’t survive without a few photos, perhaps we can take some together. Make them part of our connecting by getting in the shot and having fun.
What do you think?
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Thank you, Gina, for your coffees!
Nice post 🌹🌹
Satyam, thank you! 😊