Taking Pictures

Yesterday I had a conversation with Ryan at work about special effects. And it reminded me of a thought I had last week, about taking pictures.
Two weeks ago Joey and Martin and me drove up to Wrights Lake, and then in the soft rain hiked our backpacks up to a place called Grouse Lake (which we believed to be Hemlock Lake). After setting up camp in the late afternoon, we hiked a little farther up the mountain to see what we could see. It was here that I left my camera at the campsite, thinking it would only be a burden as we climbed farther. First we came to the crest of a rocky slope that overlooked the vastness of the Sierra foothills, all the way to the valley. With clouds hanging just above us, we gathered which direction was North and what elevation we were at using a map and compass. Looking at the elevations on the map, we determined that we had not in fact yet reached Hemlock Lake and it could very well be around the next bend. We had no trail to follow and a lot of rocks and lightning-bit trees to traverse. Clambering through the forest we first discovered a false Hemlock Lake, a 15-ft by 15-foot pond that seemed like a late lake. But we kept going, nearing the vertical rocks that reached up to the tips of the nearest peak. Finally through the trees, we all simultaneously spotted the legendary Hemlock Lake, tucked just beneath the clefts of fallen rock and snow. The place was unimaginably beautiful. The lake is an oversized puddle of snowmelt, maybe 100 feet in diameter. On the downward side is a thick grove of Hemlock Trees hanging over the water, springing from tufts of white snow. Everything was dark and grey, and a heavy mist blurred the base of the trees; and there were thousands of these trees! Green and grey over white next to black water. Above us dark clouds moved swiftly, a constant of grey light. On the mountain-side of the lake were only massive jagged boulders, recently tumbled from the above degrading peak. The wall of rocks lay in a still cascade reaching down to the lake. It was undoubtedly one of the most breathtaking sights I have ever witnessed, and I found myself reaching for my camera...only to remember that I hadn't brought it! But as I stood looking back at this frighteningly beautiful scene, completely untouched by human or animal alike, I couldn't help but be grateful for not having my camera with me. I had hiked too far, been too cold, understood too little to just come up here and snap a shot of this destination, then go home and give it away as easily as I know I would do. We had worked too hard to find this place to simply compute it and bring it back so easily. So I looked at the lake and took a mental image that only I get to keep. The best I can do is write about it.....and it really got me thinking.
Last week I stood in the forest adjacent the river at River Runners, peeing into the blackberry bushes. To the right of me was a tunnel through the trees being pierced by rays of sunlight in the late morning. I had a moment of "that's gorgeous" and wanted to run to grab my camera..and then remembered what I had felt at Hemlock Lake.
I feel like we will someday move back to using our imaginations to live rather than being given everything like we do now. Hardly ten years ago the imagination was still a useful and dependable part of our lives. Now, the Imagination has given way to a wave of Captured Realism - this new kind of "experience and capture" sort of knowing. (cameras, laptops, GPS devices, cell phones, ipods) It's our ability to research the unknown from home, without ever having to head into it. Or to look at pictures of anything we want to at all times. We can access maps in seconds, call anybody in moments, photograph anything and look at photographs of EVERYTHING. We can be contacted at any time of the day, drive or fly anywhere, listen to any song whenever we want without limitations.
What is this change? How far can it really go? Importantly, I absolutely find the value in technology, and medicine and knowledge and capturing everything. There are many tools that are useful for storytelling, and for art and for moneymaking and for teaching. At the same time, I'm starting to feel a duty to limit my knowledge and bring back the mystery that was once the world to me. If I have a Swine Flu, I don't want to know all about, it I just want to let my body do what it does best: heal. If I want to visit Hemlock Lake I don't want to read a Yelp review about the hikes there and back and look at a supply of pictures showing it off - I want to feel the exhilarating pleasure of discovering it on my own in the unknown, the surprise of seeing a sight for the first time in my life without any reference or comparison. There is an invaluable experience in the mystery of the unknown, and I feel we should be careful before we expose ourselves to EVERYTHING for fear that it will actually and truly numb our imaginations from all that exists. Love will be categorizable, Sex will be material and scientific, Nature will be an enclosed container for human amusement, Friends will be commodities in instant communication, Jobs will be for making Money...everyone will have access to everything, and the mystery of living will disappear. Nothing will be valuable anymore. Living will be as banal as the dirty water running through a Los Angeles aqueduct.
But I think there's hope. Listen to The BUZZ (106.5, out of Sacramento) for about 15 minutes and you might understand what I'm talking about. There's a mystery in our pasts that was only captured by a select few songs, and all that same mystery still lies right there. Let's stop ourselves from destroying our own future memories now, as we're just getting started. Who's with me! Less pictures, more reality!

"there's something unpredictable but in the end its right, I hope you have the time of our lives"
sweet song.