Snapshots

Sometimes I think of my life in terms of momentary snapshots - still frame vignette memories of people, places, events and feelings.

These pictures create the sensation of satisfaction and keep me going until my mental camera finds another worthwhile subject.

My current photos come from a motorcycle ride last weekend - flying down dirt roads stretching across the West Desert, cool wind blowing against my face through the open helmet, small herds of antelope bounding through green fields, the afternoon sun cutting the hills into thin slices by accentuating the rock strata like ribs on a sun-dried deer skeleton.

The mere fact that I experienced something beautiful somehow justifies my existence, the passage of time, and soothes the nagging awareness of all the dreams as-of-yet unrealized.

Those are the other snapshots - images invented in my imagination. Rather than filling me, they leave me aware of the emptiness caused by the space they are meant to fill - the person I am meant to be. Irrevocable successes at the end of long, dusty roads. Love that is shared and that endures.

At most, these empty images guide me into the future. They tell me what is worth pursuing, what is worth hoping and living for.

At the very least, they're wallpaper decorating the chambers of my mind, contributing thoughts and feelings to the story of my life.

Whenever possible, I seek new subjects for my mental camera and cover the imaginary, empty images with brilliantly saturated snapshots of reality.