beckon it to return

(taken by The Bro. Please note the snow capped mountains in the archway. So beautious.)

When I went to Canyonlands and Arches, we did Canyonlands the first day. And, I kid you not, I had an early onset of Alzheimer's. We woke up the 2nd morning in our hotel room in Moab. We had done Canyonlands the morning/early afternoon before, ending the day in Arches at Arches at Turret Arch and the Windows at sunset. I could not for the life of me remember Canyonlands. Not a single thing. It was freaky.

Sometimes I think that when I spend too much time behind my camera, I don't truly enjoy the view in front of me. It is only remembered in those photos I take. I don't take time to breathe in the air or really look around me a soak in the view.

Thankfully, now, I have vivid picture in my head of Canyonlands. I can picture the plateau we drove on with the canyons on either side. I can picture this arch, Mesa Arch, and smell the cold, clean breeze that was there that day. I can see the visitor center with my introduction to the pit toilets (fancy porta-potties, if there is such a thing) which are the only restrooms in the parks. I can see those amazing, larger than life, deep, rust colored rocks on my right side as we drove up to the Canyon. I can picture sitting on the rock ledge with my feet hanging over ledge (1,000's of feet to the bottom of the canyon). I can see my brother looking excitedly out the car window saying "I want to climb that so bad!" about every .25 miles. I can feel the excitement in seeing something new and completely unlike anything I had ever seen before.

It was a great reminder to put down the camera every once in a while and drink in the world around me. Live in it before I try to remember it. Have a memory with these photos other than just snapping away, trying to feverishly capture everything permanently before I forget it. Create those mind stamps that will stick me forever and come back to my mind the moment I beckon them to return. The sights, smells, feel of a moment that can only be recorded because the Lord chose to give us memories. Remember.

"A memory is not strictly mortal in its nature, either. It is a strange thing, after all, to be able to return to a moment, when it can hardly be said to have any reality at all, even in its passing. A moment is such a slight thing, I mean, that its abiding is a most gracious reprieve. "

-Marilynne Robinson Gilead