From my front porch . . .

by Kim

. . .  this happened on Saturday for around the 480th something time. And you know what, it never gets old!

As some of you may know, I've been raising monarch butterflies, (most of them) inside, on our dining room table since the Spring of 2013. It has been an adventure, a journey, even heartbreaking at times.

But, like any journey, even those with a somewhat expected outcome, there is always a factor of mystery to keep things interesting. And I think when we are very young that mystery equates to wonder. It keeps us open and engaged in the moment, sometimes with the same things over and over again.

And then we grow up . . . and we don't have time for mystery, much less the moment. 

Our wonder is replaced with doubt.

With that doubt, we might tend to become a little blinded when it comes to our ability to see, and we start  putting up boundaries and attaching labels.

I read something not too long ago about contemplative photography and how we are shaped by language. How the English language uses mostly nouns to name and categorize things and that the Native American languages rely more on verbs, and by doing so are less likely to pass judgement because they focus more on the process and relationship. I found this very interesting, but when I think about it, not surprising.

We need to deprogram ourselves from looking through the lens at mere objects and instead receive them in a way that is slow and spacious, but leaves no room for doubt.

"To keep both wonder and vision alive, we must learn, once again, to be children."

- Steven J Meyers