My favorite part in The Secret Life of Walter Mitty is when Walter finally finds the elusive photographer Sean O’Connell on the side of a snowy mountain in Tibet, and they awkwardly sit waiting to see a snow leopard he had been tracking. Sean’s response to Walter when he inquired as to why he wasn’t taking the picture when the big cat appeared has stuck with me throughout my Race: “If I like a moment, for me, personally, I don’t like to have the distraction of the camera. I just want to stay in it.” His final comment was like a revelation on so many levels:
“Beautiful things don’t call for attention.”
My whole outlook on how I was going to approach photography on the Race was completely altered in that moment sitting in the theatre. I can remember when I got my first camera, I went to school for photography, and the job I held required the skill set. I originally came on the race with the lofty expectation that maybe, just maybe, National Geographic would find my work and hire me as freelance. I wanted to be like Sean O’Connell because I too only saw film as the way to go. My tiny claim to fame thus far has been three re-shares of pictures I took, but honestly I think most of that is due to the caption and I would hardly call it noteworthy. Month one in the Philippines I had my camera in my lap poised and ready at a moments notice totally forgetting Sean’s words of wisdom, and I immediately got feedback on it, which stung my ego. Photography is a release for me. This was how I was going to tell my story and those of the people we met. I did not want to be one of those people who takes pictures for affirmation and totally miss the moment at hand or not even learn a person’s name. In that I was very adamant.
Before the Race, we prowl Instagram like no other stalkers. We see the beautiful landscapes, the smiling children, the racers with elephants and tigers; all yearning to have those moments ourselves. We do. Many go unseen. When Sean’s comment about living in the moment finally sunk into my heart it was toward the end of our time in the Philippines and our team was coming back from an exhausting two-day relief trip to another island. The return route was different, which took us more along the coast where I witnessed the most beautiful ocean sunset I have ever seen. It was a literal postcard moment. I was in awe, and yes, I did take a few pictures, but as my teammates were still taking their own I quietly put down my camera and mumbled to myself, “I need to just enjoy this,” and I did. It was unhindered, and it was like no one else was around me. It was my moment. After that, everything changed.
I asked God before I lifted my camera from then on to show me things and people around where we were and enjoy them. Ever since then I have taken some of the best pictures ever, and I have had some of the most memorable and intimate moments with people. Sean was right, beautiful things do not ask for attention, and I wanted God to show them to me. If they were special enough I’d leave my camera slung around my back and preciously retain it in my heart and mind every feeling, sight, and sound I was experiencing. A new challenge I had for myself was how I could use that gift to bless others and it didn’t take long for God to show me that either.
If you’re a portrait photographer like I am, it’s truly heartbreaking hearing what people say about themselves when they get their photos taken. So many times I’ve wanted to yell, “you honestly have no idea what great thing I see right now!” My team became my ministry in this, and I decided after we were together for a while and I knew them as God wanted me to know them I would take their pictures to reflect that. By month four, I told them what I had planned for team time, and told them to dress up how they pleased. As we made our way to the park, I gave three simple rules:
1. This is a creative collaboration as a team. Anyone can make suggestions.
2. No one can say anything negative about themselves.
3. No one can see any of the pictures until I was done editing and I posted them to Facebook.
The last rule made them squirm a little bit, but they agreed. And we had a BLAST. To be fair I also gave them all my camera to take one of me, which that in itself was a huge growing lesson personally, lol. When we were done, I told them my heart behind it, and I will tell you also because it’s my heart behind all my work: I want to see something/someone as God sees it, and I want them to see it. Their beauty, their worth, their uniqueness. When I posted their pictures with a special caption to each, I think it built a new level of trust between all of us and God. I carried that to my next team with equal success. God was doing something with my gift I hadn’t expected and for some people it was healing old wounds.
By now I have learned it is way more fun to play with kids for a while instead of trying to get that perfect picture of a smile and sometimes let them steal my camera for a terrifying second. It’s made me more bold in approaching people and learning about them before asking permission to take their photo and showing them, which usually leads to a good laugh, a hug, and once, a shot of whisky. There are even a precious few pictures I will never show anyone because there is something in it that only I will appreciate because of something between God and me. Most though will go unseen because I was in it. I was in it and the feelings are still alive as they vibrate through my soul when I recount the story to someone. The longer I’m on the Race, the more often I leave my camera behind and walk around without an agenda. Beautiful things don’t call for attention, and I don’t think they can be truly captured either.
