10 Minute Moments: You Need To Want More

Sometimes we simply get stuck. We find ourselves in these routines. Wake up. Shower. Get ready for the grind. Work like a dog and pass out to wake up and start over again. Or maybe it’s nothing like that. Maybe instead it’s wake up past noon or later. Have a beer or two. Pass out. Drink some more. Or maybe smoke. Maybe it’s neither. You might wake up to your kids vying for your attention. Then trying to work and being unable. Not enough time. Not enough room. And those kids, they don’t stop asking for you. It’s so easy to get stuck. To conform and be satisfied with all of this.

It’s so easy to let yourself get dissuaded from what you really want, from what you’ve always wanted deep down. You’ll make excuses for yourself just like everyone will make excuses. “You’re jut growing up,” “You have priorities now,” “This is reality,” and it’s all one and the same bullshit.

But every writer writes about this. Every person thinks this. Why is it any more special coming from one voice than another? Does it even matter? I thought we were talking about something important here – beyond the medium – the message itself.

This is just a reminder to myself that I don’t feel too fantastic this morning. I went out with a friend of mine last night and proceeded to treat my liver to some Glenlivet and my lungs to a couple of Camel Crushes and now I’m in pain. Less pain about my body, more pain about not having gotten any writing done yesterday, and realizing how easily I could get sucked and suckered in to this life. Working to get paid and blowing it all on a few moments in between the work week. And there’s nothing wrong with this now and again. Never anything wrong with working hard, trying to get by. Something completely wrong with allowing that to be the only thing you want.

Remember what you want.

Because you want so much more.

And when you get exactly what you want (and you will if you keep at it in some way or other), always remember that you NEED to WANT MORE.

Baby steps for a new year.

Every year, the SciFi (er, SyFy) channel hosts a Twilight Zone marathon on New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day. I had completely forgotten about it until I went to my kitchen to heat up some pasta and scrolled through the guide until I had the genius Rod Serling on my television. My brother came downstairs for a minute and I had the luck of giving him the plot for one of my favorite (albeit tragic) episodes, Time Enough At Last, when we heard my sister in law shouting from upstairs. My brother left to check on her and my nieces and then I heard more shouting, except it sounded less angry and more excited. When I reached their bedroom, I saw my baby niece Sophie standing up by herself for the very first time. There she was, tiny little fingers gripping the top of her crib, a smile on her face from ear to ear. Her twin sister, Chloe, was in her mother’s arms, watching the commotion calmly. My brother ran for the cameras and I became the impromptu videographer of Sophie’s first solo stand.

You always hear about people recording and fussing over a baby’s first steps, but even being able to stand up alone is a remarkable accomplishment. It sets the groundwork, after all. It was awesome to see how happy she was at discovering a new ability. Over the past 8 months, I’ve watched Sophie and Chloe grow from the tiniest 3lb and 4lb newborns, barely making a peep, into these curious little girls that squeal at the sight of their daddy. There’s a scene that comes to mind from Lost in Translation, where Mr. Harris (Bill Murry) is discussing fatherhood with Charlotte (Scarlett Johansson). He tells her how children eventually become the most “delightful people you will ever meet in your whole life.” Getting to know Chloe and Sophie over all this time, I think I finally understand what he meant.

Chloe and Sophie - No longer content with sitting around.

But that’s not what I wanted to say. Of course they’re delightful little humans. What I’m fascinated with, however, is their development. Hell, everyone’s development. We start off so completely helpless, so dependent on caretakers to feed us and change us and keep us clean and keep us from harm and then slowly, we begin to develop all these skills. You learn to sit up, and then you finally stand, and soon you walk and run and fall and get back up again. I hadn’t really thought about the process of learning a new skill, or the patience it requires, in a long while. Sophie’s first solo stand was a life altering accomplishment for her. She won’t be content with just sitting any longer. She’s going to wake up in a few hours and she’ll try standing again. And while she might fall or just not get it right immediately, there’s something about the innate need to strive forward, to progress and evolve, that won’t allow her to simply sit still for the rest of her life. This in itself is more inspirational than all the Nike Just Do It commercials and Hang In There kitty cat posters in the world combined.

Sophie now wants more for herself, whether she realizes it yet or not. We all begin with this drive. We’re little sponges as children, eagerly absorbing as much information as possible. Because everything is new, life is continuously fascinating. So why is it then that as we get older, we slow down our inherent desire for more? Why is it that we simply begin to accept the status quo, that we no longer view the daily things we do as exciting adventures but instead dismiss all of these incredible abilities we have as boring and mundane?

Sophie plotting her next move.

One can always learn something new from another person, especially from those you least expect it. My teacher today was Miss Sophie Faith, who today decided she wasn’t going to take life sitting down anymore (i’m a sucker for puns, what can I say?) She’s inspired me to begin taking my own series of baby steps, to continue on the path to writing better, traveling more, and having even greater adventures. It’s even more fantastic that it happened on the first day of the year, a day when we’re all reflecting on the past and looking forward with eager hopes of an even better set of 12 months.

I encourage everyone to think about the simplicity of learning new things today and every day. Take a new approach to life and try to see everything you do with fresh eyes. You might learn that you’re no longer content simply standing around and that those baby steps aren’t far behind.

Learning To See Differently

Before starting my trip, I came to a moment in packing where I had to decide whether or not to bring my Canon Rebel SLR camera on the road with me. On the one hand, I thought about all the amazing (alright, maybe just o.k.) pictures I might be able to take. On the other hand, I thought about my luggage. It’s been difficult enough to lug all of my things in my shitty Adidas backpack (the $70 piece of crap that’s already tearing at the seams) and my old, trusty (but definitely not waterproof) canvas messenger bag, so I thought the added weight of a camera and film might not be the best idea. However, being on my 4th stop (and preparing for my next), I’m beginning to realize all the missed photography opportunities that have passed me by and am beginning to feel a tinge of frustration and regret.

I was reading travel buddy Phillip Johnson’s blog tonight, catching up with his recent excursion in Cuba, and got inspired as I read his most recent post, How Trinidad Thwarted my Every Attempt to Take (Good) Photos of its People. He got this wonderful photograph of a little girl with a mouthful of sandwich, stealing the spotlight from her grandmother, that he wasn’t particularly fond of but still captured a moment. And then it made me think of all the moments that I haven’t yet captured.

Sure, I’ve got my small digital point-and-shoot that I occasionally remember to bring out of my bag, and I’ve got my even shittier cellphone camera, but I feel like these will never replace the feel of a good old fashioned film-based SLR camera. Because my current digital Canon and my cellphone camera are digital, because there’s no need for me to really focus in on what I’m taking a picture of, they are never very personal pictures. I don’t take portraits or close ups with these pieces of equipment. They are good for quick snapshots of the street or of my current meal or to update you on which bar I decided on for the night, but they don’t tell stories or relay sentiments the way I (naively) hope that my writing does. They are distant, cold, unaffected, and I am in severe need for a bit of warmth.

I bought my first (and only) SLR camera back in high school when I took y first black & white photo course. I fell in love with the science of mixing chemicals and timing everything and being so goddamn precise until you realize you don’t really need to be. My free time was constantly spent chasing images in the dark room, perfecting the crop and saturation of every image. And when I wasn’t acting the part of mad photographer in the lab, I was out pointing my camera at anything that moved, plus some stable things as well. My camera served as the mediator between myself and the rest of the world. And more than anything else, it helped me to see things differently.

It’s easy to forget to appreciate details when you’re not focusing: a specific freckle pattern on someone’s bare shoulder; a half-decomposed, barely recognizable dead bird on the sidewalk; the steam rising slowly out of a hot cup of tea held between two hands; the wrinkles left on a bed spread after sex. But the camera makes you focus, literally and figuratively. You learn to cut out the shit that isn’t necessary, that you don’t like, that doesn’t work, and then you crop and hone in on the real story. A photograph of a lake: still waters, a reflection of a boy on standing on the edge of a pier, a log floating past, some fallen leaves, some bits of trash, a boat on the horizon, a bird sticking its head underneath the surface in search of a meal. But you see the expression on the boy’s face, and suddenly there’s no need for the rest. You zoom, you get closer, you look, really look, and there it is. Something more than what you first expected, something deeper than the whole picture, a fraction but it’s so much more. This is what I’m talking about and this is what I miss.

I took two more photography courses in college, but I never wound up sticking to them long enough. As usual, my photographic pursuits have waxed and waned to the point that I’ve spun too far away from inspiration. However, perhaps with a new tool at my disposal, I’ll find some inspiration again. At the very least, I will try to spend the rest of this week being a little craftier and bolder with my current camera. And then, maybe I’ll send for my old camera or I’ll pick up a used one at the thrift store.

I want to see again. I really want to see again.