Moments In Time

I just got back from a rare and lovely trip to Seattle with Megan and Julie, two rare and lovely friends of mine. {More on this later, I promise.} Before going, I really debated about whether or not I should bring my good {and heavy and bulky and cumbersome} camera along for the journey. Surely I'd want {really great} photos of all the touristy things we did? Surely those photos would be things that would help me to remember what a wonderful time I had? But I sure as heck didn't want to lug that thing around. {Or risk losing it, or breaking it, or banging it up.}

In the end, I wasn't sure if I'd be allowed to bring it onto the plane along with my purse and carry-on, so I left it at home. 

I am so very glad I did. And I am going to try to articulate why.

Well, okay, so the first part is obvious: I didn't have to carry it around everywhere. I didn't have to haul it into the airport, or through security {which already stresses me out}, or around on our various adventures. I didn't have to worry about it getting stolen out of the car, or forgotten somewhere, or falling in slow motion into the frigid Pacific Ocean when it slipped off my shoulder. That part is easy to explain.

The other part is a little more complicated. 

Not having my camera {although I did have my phone camera and a smaller one that I was able to borrow from Megan's mom to capture a few shots} meant that I didn't feel the pressure of having to photograph every single interesting sight that I saw. The sailboats bobbing picturesquely up and down on the misty harbor. The chipped and rusted bathtub on our underground Seattle tour. The silhouette of the Ferris wheel against the cloudy, seagull-filled sky. The hordes of people swarming and clamoring in the Pike's Place market.

But not feeling like I had to take a picture of all those things meant that I had the opportunity to feel and experience something else. Lots of something elses, actually. 

It meant that I could focus on what it was like to revel in the freedom from the overwhelming responsibilities of everyday life, with nary a worry of naptime or snack time, or any other kid-related time. It meant that I could take in and fully appreciate the delicious {bakery goods} and disgusting {raw fish} smells and sundry sounds of the Market. I could laugh and gag at the gum wall that is truly one of the most disgusting and fascinating {disgustinating?} things I have ever seen. And, most importantly, it allowed me to focus on truly being in the moment with these friends of mine that I seldom see but who are so very precious to me. To share stories with them and compare notes on marriage and motherhood and religion and exercise and eating and myriad other trials and triumphs that life has to offer.

Today I read an article detailing a study that was done on students who visited an art museum. Afterwards, they were given a memory test on the things that they saw and took pictures of. As far the items that they had photographed, the students were found to have "photo-taking impairment effect." Basically, the students' memory of the things that they had taken pictures of was impaired because of a subconscious inclination to allow the camera to capture the memory for them. 

I certainly am not going to put my camera away forever, but all of this has certainly gotten me thinking.  For now, all I can say is that while I do truly love the few images that we managed to capture on our trip, the real memories for me will almost certainly be based on the things that weren't photographed. Chatting at the food court in a Seattle mall instead of going to the Space Needle because we all needed a quiet place to sit after an exhausting and noisy morning in a busy city. Rolling our eyes at the waitress who became decidedly unfriendly when we didn't order any alcohol after being seated in the restaurant's bar. Laughing deliriously and exhaustedly until our cheeks and stomachs hurt on the way home from Wicked at 12 in the morning because Megan's mom is adorable and hilarious and we ended up in Chinatown when we couldn't find our way out of the city. Finding out in the airport while talking to Julie that we have something in common that I never realized we did.

Photographs are a wonderful way to stimulate memories and revisit, as much as is possible, those times and places that we have had the blessing of passing through during our lives. But mental photographs, while we cannot share them with others, can mean just as much {if not more!} because of the way that they allow us to remember not just what we were seeing, but what we were really feeling at the time.

And for me, the feeling of love, friendship, and unconditional support that I am privileged to feel while in the company of these beautiful friends of mine, no matter where we happen to be, is the most precious memory of all.