Why I’m Choosing to Live Life Behind a Lens

Have you ever felt like a passenger in life, not a participant? Ever had days bleeding into each other?

That's how I've been these past several years. And I'm sure I'm not alone in this sentiment. The pandemic brought a lot of loss for all of us, one being the loss of time, of years that could have been spent living, years that have instead been reduced to a blur of tragedy and inactivity.

We can't bring back those lost years. But we can take back this one. And all the ones after. 

And I plan to do this by building one simple habit—taking photos regularly.

Life can feel infinite. But now and then, we're reminded of our mortality, and it sinks in—these moments are finite. A time will come when we will experience the last of them.

The last birthday with a loved one, the last conversation with a friend, the last time we visit our favorite place on earth, the last smile we get from our mother.

Everything ends. And most times, it has nothing to do with death. Things just end. 

Where do all these experiences go? Where can we keep them?

The brain isn't meant to—can't—hold that much life. It needs signposts for the memories to resurface.

Photos can serve as these signposts. Moments don't have to get lost in the endlessness of time.

Our memories live in us, yes, but a picture can help sort through the rubble and bring a particular one to the forefront, there for us to reminisce about, reflect on, or enjoy. A repository that can stand the test of time.

There's poetry to the duality of photos, static objects that hold within them immortality.

If you're anything like me, you often find yourself going through the motions from one moment to the next, unable to truly be present or give attention to the current situation.

For me, this is exacerbated by my mental health issues. Sometimes I blink and entire weeks are lost.

"Just be more present" is easier said than done, and I know I need a more concrete foothold in the moments of my life. And while there are other ways I could do this, I'm choosing to do it by documenting my life. 

Why? Because I believe documentation can enrich our experiences when done right.

Taking pictures forces me to interact with a situation. It breaks up the endlessness. It signals to me that "yes, this experience is happening now."

It also prompts me to seek out more moments to document. I actively look for ways to remember the days and make them more memorable because of the commitment I made.

And I don't view this as artificial because it's just me trying to be more active in my life, with taking photos as an added motivation.

As with everything, there are possible pitfalls to this. Foremost is the popular belief that documenting a thing can detract from the experience of it.

And while there is some merit to this in certain circumstances, it's a matter of mindfulness and intentionality, of being purposeful in your documentation, of not getting caught up in taking the "perfect" photo.

A picture should enhance a moment, not supersede it. It would be a shame to prioritize a future memory over a present experience.

I take photos to engage, celebrate, and remember.

If, like me, you decide to try this, you, too, need to be clear on what you want and expect from the experience. It may be tricky to balance recording memories and living in the now, but the benefits, I think, are well worth it.

Just imagine, no more lost moments, no more blank months, weeks, or even days. You remember the good, even the bad, and you're richer for it.

We make a promise to all versions of ourselves—We will give you your due.