One of my ongoing projects is curating my photography output to a manageable size (I currently have over 15,000 images in my LIghtroom library). I’m finding that I have to wait a while after I leave a place to cull the photos I took there. An image can look great at first, but the longer I live with it, the more I can see the composition isn’t quite right, or it’s too generic, or it simply doesn’t hold its own against other images of the same place.
I suppose the same can be said about memories. Facebook has a feature that brings up what I posted (or others tagged me in) for the day, a year ago, two years ago, four, seven, and so on. Sometimes i look at an old post it displays and wonder what the heck that was about. And other times, I smile with happiness because the image brings back a wonderful memory.
Not every photo, or every memory, is a public keeper. Some images are private, capturing a unique moment in a specific place for me alone. Any one else looking at the image would think it’s OK but to me it represents so much more. It might be how I felt standing there, or the effort it took to get there, or who I was with at the time, or something that took me by surprise.
When I was young, I rushed through life, not remembering the details, eager and anxious to get to the next place, the next big thing, the next adventure. Now I’m older, and I’m slowing down, and that’s not a bad thing. I can take the time to look back at where I’ve been, and appreciate the life behind me as well as the life ahead of me.
Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory.