Andy's Mind

Learning a new language is opening a new window to the world. New language is a new point of view, new way of thinking, new sounds and a glimpse on a new culture. I learn Spanish now and I already got to the point, where I know that with time I’ll know it as well as I do English. This is a joyous experience. And the moment, almost two years ago, when I started from scratch seems now so distant.

But it occurred to me that it is the same with almost every thing we learn or achieve. It seems distant at first, almost unattainable, then there is the joyous feeling when we manage to do it sloppily, for the first time. And then it becomes part of us. With time we integrate it so deeply it becomes part of the foundation on which we stand trying to learn or achieve another, new thing. And then, some of those abilities connect with our inner core, when we discover they were always there. That’s how we progress through time becoming more and more complex, more and more aware, from year to year, from life to life.

And all that musings because I managed today for the second time in a row to get to the city center before 10:30. Three days ago it seemed as if I was cursed, no matter how I tried I ended getting here around 11. But, yesterday I did it. And today too.

Small things can too be a way in which the mind expresses itself.

There are billions of images. Trillions. Trillions of billions. Each of us sees a thousand images every few minutes. Each of us lives a thousand and a half minutes every day. Each day is a stream of images. And there are six billions of us on Earth, just now. There were billions before us. There would be some more after us. Each of those has seen their own, private stream of images. Trillions of billions of images, scenes, pictures. A torrent, a waterfall of images.

Some try to catch the best of those they are privileged to see. They are like fishermen in a flood or wanderers in a desert trying to catch and preserve the most beautiful grains of sand in a raging sandstorm. They are trying to freeze images as we freeze food, trying to preserve its color, smell, taste. Trying to conserve the sparks of emotions they ignited within.

If they catch them with a machine, we call them photographers. If they do it with a hand armed with a brush we call them painters. If they do it with bare hands we call them mimes. And those of us who do it with words are called writers.

I have been out fishing tonight. I caught some moments – beautiful and not, reflective or sad, mostly black & white. I carried them carefully home, like butterflies, still alive in the grasp of my mind, still flapping their wings feebly. I will now pin them down with words, freeze them, so that I could revive them later in an attempt to induce them in others.

But why? I don’t know and I don’t even care. I have to. They seem so precious, those few out of myriad. They’re mine.

So, I was on a picnic yesterday. I didn’t take my car, but instead went to a place in the city where everybody met and got a lift from there. I ended up on a backseat of a luxurious Toyota station wagon with two guys I didn’t know. They didn’t know each other either. One of them was a famous photographer, the other was not.

The talk was slow. After a few exchanges I knew they prefer their own company and just listened silently to their chatter. As we were going smoothly through green suburbia one of them finished discussing how communist rule spoiled the society (in the context of seat-belts), and noticed the beauty of the landscape. After a while of complimenting back and forth how nice the surroundings were The Non-Photographer remarked, that he hates all the billboards and signs along the road, that distract him greatly when he drives. On top of that, he said, they also spoil such a great countryside.

– Oh, yes, that kills sensitivity for true beauty in the society – commented The Famous Photographer expertly,
– It has to be regulated! – said The Non-Photographer angrily,
– Absolutely, corrupting the countryside like this should be prohibited – agreed The Famous Photographer.

And we drove on. I just sat there with a sad half-smile, wondering whether I already lost my sensitivity for true beauty. Did you?

I was in a thought provoking series of changing situations today. First, a quiet picnic, where I hardly knew anyone so I mostly wandered about taking pictures. Then I was in a car, getting back to the city, sitting quietly in the back as passenger in front of me, another struggler coming to terms with shattered remains of his life, babbled about this with the driver, a seasoned, overly confident photographer. Then I was in a shopping mall full of people, looking for an ATM.

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