This was supposed to be a sunrise shot. At least that's sort of the image I had in mind when I saw the morning's first light come beaming over the eastern horizon. Envisioning something in silhouette—say, the giant sycamore over by the fence, or maybe the walnut up on the driveway—I put my coffee mug aside and grabbed the camera. Then I went out in the yard and waited…and waited…and waited.
Oh, the sun came up. And there was some nice pinkish-orange light. But it wasn't spectacular—and I couldn't find the angle or the foreground object to make an image that worked. My sunrise expectations fizzled.
Then I turned around to head back inside and looked westward. Wow! The still-darkened sky was a deep blue, while fat rows of puffy white clouds caught the burgeoning light—glowing gold and lemon, with peachy pink highlights. All I had to do was point and snap.
It's a lesson I've been relearning over and over all my life: embrace the surprise. Things won't always work out as planned…but look around instead of grumbling about defeat. The unexpected might be better than whatever you'd planned.
I can't tell you how many times I've gone after trout and came home with a bonanza of morel mushrooms instead of fish. Or it might have been smallmouth bass that turned into butternuts. Or bluegills instead of dandelion greens. I've set off on wildflower forays and found fossiles or arrowheads. I've gone hiking to a distant waterfall and discovered a cave. And grumpily attended a boring-but-inescapable cocktail party where I ended up meeting a kindred spirit who became a friend for life.
Moon-the-Dog, my beloved companion for more than fourteen years, was found during a pawpaw expedition in the hills and hollers woods of southeastern Ohio, near the ghost town of Moonville.
The point is, we don't know where a particular path may lead, can't always predict what the next moment may provide. But serendipity awaits, if only we keep our eyes and minds and hearts open to such possibilites. That's part of the adventure.
Embrace the surprise. Or as Yogi Berra so wonderfully puts it, "When you come to a fork in the road, take it!"
23 comments:
Yes, Grizz! The unexpected in life! How I relish it.
I know what you mean - often the things you find when looking for something else are even better than the original goal - Moon being a prime example:) Hope your Achilles tendon is getting better.
HI GRIZZ - glorious picture and the best wisdom given. I know it so well - so many times I though "this" was best when all along "that" was what I really needed. I too stay open to the mystery, the 'surprise' as you so eloquently stated, yes - I am rarely defeated because I know with defeat,disappointment, and the like - something is beyond that I will embrace...waiting for me to "see", "find", "know", understand, realize and on and on....you are so wise Grizz and when you write such wisdom and it is a wisdom I share I am thrilled to know I know what you know.
Love Gail
peace.....
Solitary…
My favorite trips—including vacations—have often begun by packing up the truck, deciding whether to turn left or right only when I came to the T-intersection at the end of the road…and doing the same seat-of-the-pants navigation with all subsequent decisions for the next couple of weeks. Usually with the codicil that no freeways and Interstate highways be taken, smaller roads receive preference over larger ones, and gravel roads are the best of all. I love this sort of trip, simply because it's an adventure from start to finish—with nothing preplanned. I'm sure you walk with the same open attitude.
Rowan…
Yes, indeed! Countless times the unexpected has proven to be better than the intended. I've lived much of my life at the whim of whatever adventure or blessing came my way…and never like to get so locked into a plan and schedule that I leave no room for surprise. I often travel in stutters and starts—stopping to look at this or that, taking some interesting side road, etc. To me, that's the real fun.
The tendon is fine. We've been out most of today, doing more running around, and I'm tired, but tired all over—not just feeling pain in my ankle tendon. Whatever that deal was, I'm better.
Gail…
You sound wiser than me about all this; I have to keep getting reminded. I try and keep my mind and options open most of the time. But too often I forget this good advice and my own experience. For example, I almost didn't look up and find the lovely clouds in the photo, even though on countless occasions I've found the best sunrise and sunset shots are regularly found in the opposite side of the sky from where you expect.
The truth is, I can still mess up at miss the shot. So I'm not all that wise, or apparently, trainable…and believe me, I've made plenty of educational mistakes. Only occasionally have I learned from them. Others, however, I seem fated to repeat endlessly. While I'm not the dumbest old dog under the porch, I'm definitely not bright enough to be picked for the circus.
Hence this post…as much for me as anyone.
I'll let you know when I qualify for oracle status, though. :-D
like I said I saved gas by being towed but also for 300kl got a birdeye view from the extra high cab of a flatbed tow truck and snapped views over bushes and hills of lakes and vistas unseen if I travelled by car -you never know what you will find keeping options and eyes open.
Do tell us the story of how you found your dog.
Thank you for this reminder when going through difficult times...the Lord does have wonderful surprises in store for us...even in tough times.
I agree entirely, Grizz. Indeed, if one does not embrace the surprises, there will be little else to embrace, for life is nothing if not a series of surprises. Nothing is quite what we expected, and, fortunately, things are often much better than we expected. In addition to the surprises, we should also embrace the ordinary; observed closely, that's where the magic is!
Beautiful photos. Just amazing to look deeply into a cloud and find both lemons and peaches.
AfromTO x 2…
That's one of the reasons why I've always preferred a full-sized pickup. Not as high a view as from the cab in which you were riding, but still high enough to see over lotos of roadside bushes, most bridge siderails (important to a fisherman). And from a safety standpoint, the added height gives you the ability to see overtop the traffic in front of you, and thus be able to watch the road and any developing problems, much farther ahead.
Of course l also like full sized trucks because I put a lockable shell over the cargo bed and install a raised and carpeted platform the width and length of the bed, above the wheel wells. This gives me all the hidden storage I could ever need, for even a month-long trip, underneath—so I can carry camping and fishing gear, coolers, a complete cook kit, clothes, etc., and not have to paw through the clutter. Should I not want to set up one of the tents or tarps, I have a quick retreat, with a custom, nearly full-sized mattress on top of the platform, a light for reading, a place where I can make coffee and warm up a bowl of stew if I'm careful, plus a dry, warm, snuggery in which to weather the fiercest storm. I can park beside a remote two-track, no need to set up camp, and be perfectly comfortable in two minutes, with no discernable impact to my surroundings. Perfect when on the road, going wherever the spirt leads, when all you need is a place to sleep for a few hours.
As to a piece on how we found Moon-the-Dog, I've been think of doing just that for some time. And I will, probably a bit later on, once the fall busyness has slowed and I'm in need of a good post. There's also a certain photo I need to make.
Anonymous…
You are absolutely right. The surprise—the gift, the blessing—is there and will come, I truly believe that and I've watched it happen countless times in my own life and in the lives of family and friends. The key, of course, is to keep ourselves, eyes and heart, open. It's so easy to get caught up in the misery, the hardship, the trauma of a situation. To wallow in the "unfairness" of life, as if our days somehow came with a warranty of peace, protection, and bubbly happiness. Rough times are a part of all our lives, though some seem to have more than their fair share, while others are seldom touched, and then only mildly. We're individuals—as much in this as in all other aspects. But I've also noticed some of the most besieged individuals are, paradoxically, some of the most joyful and optimistic—and I think it's because they've learned how remain open and embrace the surprise regardless of the turmoil and negativity around. To a great extent, it's a learned behavior, which means there's hope for any of us who find themselves wearied and discouraged by difficulties. Good and joy and strength can be found.
HI AGAIN -
you are SO humble - another amazing quality I admire about you. :-)
In regards to the 'surprise' we get when we stay open to the idea of such I wanted to share the following.
Back in 1990, 10 years before I got hired at my job at Rushford I applied there and was turned down. I recall how disappointed I was. Life went on, as it does, and some 10 years later I re-applied and was hired. Had I been hired the first time around I don't know how it would have turned out - but when I did get the job it was at a time they offered a long term disability plan that sustains me/us now and will do so until the age of retirement, Surprise??!! Indeed. Also I came to know a client whose parents are doctors. One of which was the link to the team of kidney specialists that prolonged my Mom's life for 2+ years. Surprise??!! Indeed.
I could go on and on....so this wisdom of which you write and live is as big as life itself, part of nature, the natural order, the hope and promise of faith and trust, - Surprise??!! Indeed.
Love Gail
peace......
You found your dog while on a walk? Wow--sounds like a longer story. Have you told that before (on this blog)?
Would love to hear it.
George…
You are quite right re. the magic of the ordinary, though I do believe many of life's surprises—while not always ordinary—hold their own magic. However, I suspect we're both really just saying the same thing.
To this list I would add the magic and joy in the simple. Simple food, simply prepared can be wonderful. As an angler, I find myself simplifying my tackle and methods, just as I have my photography and gear. I've simplified my coffee-making, shaving, reading, the items in my daypack…I've even simplified my wardrobe. It's not some much that I'm becoming a minimalist; rather a desire to find the heart of the matter, the core essence of things: to learn what matters in my life…and what doesn't. Then embracing that as purely, honestly, simply as possible. Technology and progress often seeks to find new, more complicated ways to do the same thing; I seek to find the best and easiest. Which isn't to say technology and progress, per se, are bad—just that they can pointlessly complicate and clutter our lives, robbing us of time for actually living.
As to that cloud photo, I'm glad you liked it (a simple shot, eh?) and relieved you were able to see those colors. I was afraid they would be too subtle given different monitors. But they are there, peach and lemon and the palest of pale wash of amethyst.
Gail…
Humble? Nahhhh…just honest. But I've always been introspective, contemplative, (due to being an only child?) and my life could easily be a case study for the subsequent effects of unwise decisions and whimsical behavior. The only way I've survived is by learning from my mistakes. The truly wise wouldn't have made them in the first place.
I can well believe—without believing in personal predestination—the scenario of your job interviews, and how things worked out, because I believe in God. Things so often unfold in this manner, over years, and to our lasting good, as if the hand of a master planner is at work. Which squares with my faith. I simply don't believe pure happenstance governs everything. And I trust in this more than I trust in myself.
KGMom…
Nope, haven't told Moon's story. But I will. I promise.
I was wondering about Moon, too... Now I know there is something I haven't missed...yet. Do tell! Peace. And serendipity!
Giggles…
I will tell the tale, the whole tale, and nothing but the tail, er, tale. But I must have a couple of photos first, just to do it right.
Love this philosophy my friend and glad you always take that path of surprises!
Jayne…
Thank you—and I know you understand the joy of embracing the surprises in life, finding the gifts in simplicity, savoring the small pleasures of faith and friends and family.
Thank you for the beautiful photo and inspirational post, Grizz. I always find something in your pictures or writing that speaks to my heart so am glad I stopped by.
Brenda…
I appreciate your comments…thank you. Most of all, I'm glad you enjoy your visits here. You're always welcome.
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