I watched a video today about how to better remember your life, and it made me look back through some years of photos I’ve taken. Tons of moments I’d completely forgotten about. Hammocking in the mountains of Montana with the men in my family. Little bits of Italy, like the cat that wouldn’t let us pet it, or the lights on a bridge at night. The evening light on a tiny island town. Laughing with friends back at college when I came to visit the semester after graduation. I feel like it should make me sad that I don’t remember all those things generally, but it makes me excited that I can go back and relive those moments by accident almost. It’s something that has to come organically, a wistful desire to remember, rather than a rote quizzing of one’s memory.
I try to look back through my attempts at journaling, my old photos, and posts. Lately I’ve gotten in more of a habit of ordering prints after trips so I can put things on my wall. It reminds me where I’ve come from, and where I want to be. I can look at a portrait I took in college, and know that it’s a great shot, that I’m still proud of. But I also know that when I took it, I was just guessing at what to do, and had no knowledge of what was right or wrong, just that it looked right. Now I can actually put a finger on those things. I’m always in a process of becoming.
I think it’s easy to just keep moving along in the flow of time, taking pictures, posting them, forgetting, scrolling, reading, and forget to be in the moments you have. I always bring my camera if I leave the house for somewhere other than errands or work, but maybe I’l stop doing that for a while. Just allow things to be, and absorb the moments as they come. Snap a few pics with my phone, and move on.