Faith Exposed

"Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see." - Hebrews 11:1

I'm finding I have trouble with the details. For as organized and detail-oriented as I like to think I am, life really is in the details. I'm learning that I just cannot STAND losing sight of the big picture for the stinkin' details. I mean, if we can't see the forest for the trees, what is the point, anyway?

I'm taking a photography workshop at the local museum this weekend. It has been hugely educational and inspirational, but also a real exercise in faith. It's so easy to see what I want to photograph, but actually capturing that image is a different story. The instructor acknowledged it is difficult to capture on command the way he is asking us to do; that is to say, it is hard to be told to point and shoot at the ocean and tell the story of only water. What does that mean? How can we possibly take a picture of the sea and not include the sandpipers looking for their morning meal or the sunrise's reflection on the wet sand? How can we possibly omit the pelicans in formation overhead, or the sea foam's froth left behind a retreating wave like the foam residual in my cup long after the latte is gone? It's perplexing. I want to include it all...are these not the details that tell the whole story? I want to know the WHOLE story instantaneously. I want someone to give me all of the information up front. Please s-p-e-l-l it out for me.

This tends to be the theme in my life at large. When I study, I want the whole outline before I break it up into palatable bites. When I investigate new geography, I want to look at a map of the entire area before I can gain my bearings. When I was a kid, I used to peak ahead in the books I was reading to see what was going to become of the heroine (embarrassing as it is, I still do this sometimes...).

Wandering around the landscape today to scout for photos felt oddly surreal. There was so much I really wanted to capture, but somehow I lacked a clear sense of going about that. It was as if I was afraid to start because I didn't want to fall short of the real story that needed to be told. I couldn't even begin, not knowing the ending. I learned so much just marching around the dunes or shuffling through the mulch (fire ants, I am not a fan) to get to the place I thought could possibly be the right place.

One butterfly, in particular, was especially frustrating to me. Not only would this creature not corporate with me, but it was defective. I wanted a picture that would somehow hide it's tattered wing, but every shot seemed to accentuate that imperfection. It annoyed me. Then I realized I am not all that different from that tattered winged insect. I'm broken, too, so why hide the obvious? Are we not all worn and imperfect in one way or another? Why not embrace it?

Each of us in the workshop took a great many photos. It still amazes me to think that sixteen people can be in the same place, photographing the same scenery, and turn out such radically different photos. The story means something different to each one of us. I'm pretty sure I grew in leaps and bounds today, absorbing what the instructor had to say, but more so, by taking in what my peers turned out. It was the compilation of stories that brought the understanding of the importance of emphasis on detail.

And, yet, there is still such utter disappointment in knowing just how many of those details are altered in Photoshop after the image is taken. Nothing is perfect to be certain (see broken butterfly), but knowing just how much we can change a photo to create something more appealing to the eye feels like cheating to me. Hiding a broken wing in the original captured image felt legitimate to me, but cropping, enhancing, enriching, embellishing....it feels like a facade. And really, is this any different from what we do in our everyday lives?

I have issues focusing. I can't seem to stay true to one task before I am ready to run around and move onto the next. I want to know NOW how my life is going to unfold, where I am going to be in five years (or next year), and find myself impatiently wishing away the details to get there. If life is about the journey, why am I so restless for the ride? Why am I not able to just enjoy today? What does it mean to truly be content?

Maybe, just maybe, it's because I feel as though my life in pictures doesn't always accurately portray reality. It's borders on fantasy. It's not always real. Parts of it are, sure, but other parts I have altered or even convinced myself are okay, though they are not always representative of what I truly desire. Who am I and what do I want? Is my life merely snapshots, pieces of a story I am trying to create, but failing miserably, carelessly lost by neglecting the details? What am I photoshopping, as if to convince others the picture is better than the true image?

Photography is therapy. It's a language all its own, but it translates into so many other disciplines of my life, sometimes it really scares me.