So much truth in this! It actually gave me goosebumps - the kind you feel when an emotion is heightened by recognition. It's the grief - of losing time or moments - and the cultural conditioning we've received, to have every moment captured somehow. It's a beautiful, freeing thing to know this and to be brave by living freely, without obligation to document every part of our lives... like we have been doing for the past decade.
Jenn, thank you so much for sharing your experience reading this! I’m so glad it connected with you! I agree that there is such freedom in knowing that we can’t document every single thing. Maybe it means we can just live. :)
I love love love to watch the sunset. The funny thing about watching a sunset is that it all changes so fast. “Don’t blink or you’ll miss it.” Even a few moments of distraction can mean you miss the most beautiful moments and colors. Also, it’s impossible to capture their full beauty through an iPhone. I’ve tried, a million times. The colors never look the same and the majesty is missing. I try to watch the sunset most nights, and I’m constantly reminded of the preciousness of being in the moment, fully present. I want to capture these beauties so badly, but the pictures never turn out. I want to quickly finish loading the dishwasher, and then I look up and it’s all over.
You’re right about the grief. When I can’t save this particular sunset (it’s the best one!) in my camera roll, it feels... gone? Almost like it never happened? I can’t remember them all in my mind. I take pride in fully enjoying those undistracted moments on my deck, watching the sky change before my eyes, but yes, there’s a grief in knowing those moments are gone and I have no proof of them. Also, I’m 35 now and think more about the passing of time than I ever would have guessed, and often it’s during the sunset.
I love this, Lacey. I feel similarly about trying to take a picture of fireworks, lol. The phone just doesn't do it! I love your line "the majesty is missing." That's exactly what it is! On the grief associated with it, I'm trying to learn how to better remember things. Like the sunset, it is gone--that's what keeps it beautiful (maybe), but does my memory of it keep it alive someway? If so, what can I do to make my memories stronger. Laying down my attempts to get the perfect picture of it is maybe just step one. Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me. :)
Stephanie, I'm so glad my words resonated. What a beautiful moment you shared here. I understand and recognize that frantic feeling, trying to document things before they slip away... But if you're like me, you might find that that firefly catching night stays with all the more for the lack of photos. Thank you for sharing!
Thank you so much, Katie! Your words certainly resonated with me. I seriously spent most of my weekend soaking them up. The idea of letting go of the pressure to capture moments was and is profoundly freeing for me. Our memory is enough, and you are so right, that the richer experience of living in the moment stays more than getting the right angle on my phone's camera. Thank you so much for putting your words out into the world for us. :)
Stephanie, I didn't read your post until Ruth posted it on her Substack as part of the May digital detox roundup. Thank you so much for taking the time to write at length about your experience; it confirmed and articulated what I have been trying to learn for a long time, and I wrote on Ruth's page about my response, which I will copy here:
"Thank you, Ruth, for sharing all the stories, from your own technician's story down through all the people who related their experiences during the May detox. I'm glad to have them to read now, a couple of months later, when I needed the encouragement of the community to keep pursuing my goals. The painting at top is perfect for our group -- I feel it is a real community, of the sort who would definitely know how to make the most of a summer picnic together in one physical place, leaving our devices at home! Instead, we mostly inspire one another to be present with the ones we're with, but that is very good, too.
"Some years ago I began to realize, not completely on my own, about the reality of childhood memories, and how vain an attempt it is to try to "make a memory" by crafting events for one's children to experience and then photographing the whole thing to assist the memory. Young children tend to remember events during which something unexpected (unplanned) happened, creating drama among the parties involved, and often strong emotions and reactions. A beautiful day with a beautiful birthday cake and everything going smoothly can't compete. There are plenty of opportunities for unintentionally making memories, in any household where children and adults work and play alongside for hours every day, and children learn lessons and love just from simple, humble days with their parents and siblings.
"Related to this, I particularly appreciated the letter from Stephanie at The Coffee Shop, because she ruminated on the grief of time passing too quickly, and how we try to capture moments with our cell phone cameras. I do this a lot, especially since becoming a widow, though I have always had a sort of documentarist compulsion, to record something about everything. The thing is, I always know that using my camera constantly takes part of my away from whatever or whomever I am photographing -- and I am becoming more aware of that all the time, especially since the lockdowns separated me from so many people. Now when I am with someone and able to look into her face and listen to her voice, it seems so precious an encounter. I don't want to steal from the moment in hopes of having that thing I stole in the future. Besides which, the world is now smothered in flat images, and that glut has somehow cheapened them and made them boring.
"As Stephanie said, we can't stop time, we may as well face that reality, and enjoy the moment to the fullest when we are in it. It is heartening to hear from people so much younger than I who are learning this early in life. We will retain memories, and we can't predict which ones, but if we are thankful for what God gives us throughout our days, all the memories will include Him."
So much truth in this! It actually gave me goosebumps - the kind you feel when an emotion is heightened by recognition. It's the grief - of losing time or moments - and the cultural conditioning we've received, to have every moment captured somehow. It's a beautiful, freeing thing to know this and to be brave by living freely, without obligation to document every part of our lives... like we have been doing for the past decade.
Jenn, thank you so much for sharing your experience reading this! I’m so glad it connected with you! I agree that there is such freedom in knowing that we can’t document every single thing. Maybe it means we can just live. :)
I love love love to watch the sunset. The funny thing about watching a sunset is that it all changes so fast. “Don’t blink or you’ll miss it.” Even a few moments of distraction can mean you miss the most beautiful moments and colors. Also, it’s impossible to capture their full beauty through an iPhone. I’ve tried, a million times. The colors never look the same and the majesty is missing. I try to watch the sunset most nights, and I’m constantly reminded of the preciousness of being in the moment, fully present. I want to capture these beauties so badly, but the pictures never turn out. I want to quickly finish loading the dishwasher, and then I look up and it’s all over.
You’re right about the grief. When I can’t save this particular sunset (it’s the best one!) in my camera roll, it feels... gone? Almost like it never happened? I can’t remember them all in my mind. I take pride in fully enjoying those undistracted moments on my deck, watching the sky change before my eyes, but yes, there’s a grief in knowing those moments are gone and I have no proof of them. Also, I’m 35 now and think more about the passing of time than I ever would have guessed, and often it’s during the sunset.
I love this, Lacey. I feel similarly about trying to take a picture of fireworks, lol. The phone just doesn't do it! I love your line "the majesty is missing." That's exactly what it is! On the grief associated with it, I'm trying to learn how to better remember things. Like the sunset, it is gone--that's what keeps it beautiful (maybe), but does my memory of it keep it alive someway? If so, what can I do to make my memories stronger. Laying down my attempts to get the perfect picture of it is maybe just step one. Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me. :)
Stephanie, I'm so glad my words resonated. What a beautiful moment you shared here. I understand and recognize that frantic feeling, trying to document things before they slip away... But if you're like me, you might find that that firefly catching night stays with all the more for the lack of photos. Thank you for sharing!
Thank you so much, Katie! Your words certainly resonated with me. I seriously spent most of my weekend soaking them up. The idea of letting go of the pressure to capture moments was and is profoundly freeing for me. Our memory is enough, and you are so right, that the richer experience of living in the moment stays more than getting the right angle on my phone's camera. Thank you so much for putting your words out into the world for us. :)
Stephanie, I didn't read your post until Ruth posted it on her Substack as part of the May digital detox roundup. Thank you so much for taking the time to write at length about your experience; it confirmed and articulated what I have been trying to learn for a long time, and I wrote on Ruth's page about my response, which I will copy here:
"Thank you, Ruth, for sharing all the stories, from your own technician's story down through all the people who related their experiences during the May detox. I'm glad to have them to read now, a couple of months later, when I needed the encouragement of the community to keep pursuing my goals. The painting at top is perfect for our group -- I feel it is a real community, of the sort who would definitely know how to make the most of a summer picnic together in one physical place, leaving our devices at home! Instead, we mostly inspire one another to be present with the ones we're with, but that is very good, too.
"Some years ago I began to realize, not completely on my own, about the reality of childhood memories, and how vain an attempt it is to try to "make a memory" by crafting events for one's children to experience and then photographing the whole thing to assist the memory. Young children tend to remember events during which something unexpected (unplanned) happened, creating drama among the parties involved, and often strong emotions and reactions. A beautiful day with a beautiful birthday cake and everything going smoothly can't compete. There are plenty of opportunities for unintentionally making memories, in any household where children and adults work and play alongside for hours every day, and children learn lessons and love just from simple, humble days with their parents and siblings.
"Related to this, I particularly appreciated the letter from Stephanie at The Coffee Shop, because she ruminated on the grief of time passing too quickly, and how we try to capture moments with our cell phone cameras. I do this a lot, especially since becoming a widow, though I have always had a sort of documentarist compulsion, to record something about everything. The thing is, I always know that using my camera constantly takes part of my away from whatever or whomever I am photographing -- and I am becoming more aware of that all the time, especially since the lockdowns separated me from so many people. Now when I am with someone and able to look into her face and listen to her voice, it seems so precious an encounter. I don't want to steal from the moment in hopes of having that thing I stole in the future. Besides which, the world is now smothered in flat images, and that glut has somehow cheapened them and made them boring.
"As Stephanie said, we can't stop time, we may as well face that reality, and enjoy the moment to the fullest when we are in it. It is heartening to hear from people so much younger than I who are learning this early in life. We will retain memories, and we can't predict which ones, but if we are thankful for what God gives us throughout our days, all the memories will include Him."