There are heavy matters at hand.
For one, word comes that Butterball turkeys has a 24/7 phone service, available to all, that helps folks solve their problems and emergencies in preparing Thanksgiving meals. A noble and worthy project. (1-800-288-8372)
One fellow (he had to be from Wisconsin, though I don't know that for sure) called in last Thanksgiving in a mild panic. He had neglected taking the turkey out of the freezer to defrost for a few days in the refrigerator, which his wife (I have no doubt) had asked him to do - and when Thanksgiving came around he was confronted with a frozen block of turkey ice. He decided to reduce the scope of the problem by reducing the turkey's size, took the bird out to his workbench in the garage and proceeded to do so with his chain-saw. The thing that concerned him and prompted the call was his wife's question as to whether the oil from the saw would ruin the flavor of the turkey.
Then yesterday I began the re-read of The English Patient by Michael Ondaatje, one of my favorite novels. On page 8, the nurse is reading to the horribly burned patient:
I thought about this. for some time, actually. Then I got up and disturbed our snoozing Spaniel, lifted him up and carried him over to my chair. Then I carefully smelled the skin at the base of his paw.
Ontdaatje was dead-right. It is indeed a lovely, provocative bouquet that points beyond itself.
And I was thankful.
Last week I went up into the White Tank Mountains for a photoshoot. When I do something like that, I don't have anything particular in mind. I do know it will be desert or mountain related. That's what there is up there!
I simply walk around and try to be alert to things that cry out or whisper softly to me. It is quite an unusual experience - being intentionally sensitive to what is quietly there.
I don't always understand what it is that I see. Sometimes it seems a hint, a goad, a lure. What these things have in common is - well, they seem to point beyond themselves. Hence the title of my photoblog, "more than we thought..."
Sometimes I feel a bit jealous of photographers who live in places with breathtaking beauty all around. Oceans, streams, forests, etc. Yet, one thing that amazes is that there is beauty almost anywhere. Some of the best photos I've taken were captured within a few blocks of where I live.
Some of these images don't reveal very much until one gets them home, out of the camera and into the photo editing software on my computer. Work the exposure, the colors, the white balance - often obscure things and unexpected mysteries seem to emerge. One begins to see beyond the apparent and into the mystery of the object. "The beyond in our midst" as Paul Tillich once put it. It gets personal. Becomes a poem or a song or a mood. Sometimes you even get a glimpse of yourself. Yes, you do.
I love that. Will look up an example and add it to this post...
Yes. Here's one from the White Tanks. A Saguaro.
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