Being open to seeing

Last fall I related in a blog post about an experience photographing in the eastern Sierra one afternoon. While I had missed out on what I had "wanted", I allowed myself to be open to the moment, and in the end, I was rewarded with images that excited me. If you want, you may read that post here.

During that experience I allowed myself to imagine that I had a group of fellow photographers that were my students, and I shared with them the serendipitous moment that was upon me, or in this wide open and fictional classroom, my students. The lesson then was not to be disappointed, but allow yourself to be open to other photographic opportunities.

Much of landscape photography is about planning: studying weather reports; reviewing the tide tables; checking on what time sunset and sunrise will be. All of these activities are done to prepare you to be in a certain place at a certain time so you can capture "the image" that you are seeking. To get that perfect sunset shot of Morro Rock, or the golden sunrise on Mt. Whitney with clouds dancing among the peaks.

That's all well and good, and I follow many photographers on social media who plan and prepare for capturing those images. And I too sometimes plan ahead so I can be in a specific place at a specific time.

But I have found that more and more lately, I don't want to be in a "specific place at a specific time". I want to be, well, just "there", and allow that place at that time to speak to me photographically. And just as last fall in the eastern Sierra was a teachable moment for me and my fictional class, so this morning was a similar moment with another fictional class.

I had taken my time this morning leaving the hotel, and it was nearly 10 AM before I arrived at one of my favorite locations to photograph, Montana de Oro State Park, which rests at the southern end of the vast Morro Bay estuary. I must admit that the mini-vacation I'm on was not about photography as much as it was about resting (I won't go into details here). But I didn't want to spend my last full day of vacation holed up in my pleasant hotel room. So after a late breakfast, I headed out to the Park. 

As I drove in I saw many wonderful potential scenes, but nothing that leaped out at me. I stopped a couple of times in the pull-outs, and after scouting, was just not seeing anything. At one of the pullouts, though, I decided to walk up a short hill, and just see if there was anything. I did not have my camera with me. I just walked.

I came into this clearing where a eucalyptus tree had grown out, instead of up, and its long branches spidered out among the other trees. I just stood there for a few minutes, breathing. Listening. And then I saw my shot. I went back to my car, grabbed my camera bag and tripod, and came back up to set up the shot.

That moment was a teachable moment for my "class" of students. I conveyed to my fictional class the importance of just "being" in a place, and allowing yourself to listen. I conveyed the importance of NOT looking for "the shot", but being open to a sense of oneness with the environment. Perhaps you'll experience a peace that fills your soul. Perhaps your sense of hearing will be amplified by listening to the wind making the leaves dance, or a small squirrel running across the trail to its burrow. Or maybe you'll see the shot - not the one you were going for. But one that presents itself to you within that stillness.