It has happened a lot lately. I set out to wander and take photos, and have my camera mounted with my long lens. Just in case I might see birds I want to photograph, I want to be ready, because the moment with photographing birds is often, literally, fleeting.
But some days, perhaps, I'm not supposed to photograph birds.
When I go back to my original question from three-and-a-half years ago -- the one I asked each morning as I set out on my walk, eyes finally ready to see -- I realize that the lens through which I look may be different than the one I put on my camera.
"What do You want me to see today?"
Perhaps I'm not to photograph birds today...nor even the details of seeds or outlines of dried seed pods or insects on a petal. Perhaps a "closer look" may actually be a broader look...one that reflects...takes in the whole picture that subsequently takes in the details of a bigger picture more clearly.
Like today. Winter. Not a leaf on the trees, but a paleness that made the variations in oranges and tans more vibrant. Not a cloud in the sky (nor a richness of blue), but a clear reflection on the water.
What do You want me to see today?
Perhaps I'm to change my lens sometimes.
Not just on my camera...on the lens through which I look at my past, at myself, at people, nature, this world, my beliefs and thoughts. I might need to look at those same things through different lenses at different times.
And see.