FROZEN IN TIME

A Commentary by Karlyle Tomms

There are things that the eyes may encounter that no camera can ever duplicate. Yet, there are things the camera may capture that the eyes don’t even notice. When I took the photo for the title meme of this blog post, I didn’t even realize there was a bee on the Peony bloom until I loaded it onto my computer to view it. Then, the bee was obvious, but I didn’t even perceive it through the camera lens. I was focused on getting a photo of the flower blooming in my Missouri yard. The camera froze the moment in time, and although I may have initially missed the bee, there it is for me to view again and again, yet not with the clarity and ability to live it in that moment again.

The camera is one thing, but experience is another. When I first moved to the Texas Coastal Bend, I had a miserable experience in transition. It wasn’t the worst thing I ever experienced, but it was a very difficult time. Because I was so stressed, I tried to find ways to utilize what I call my tools from my happiness toolbox. As it happened, I had rented an apartment across the street from a park and a beach. So, every day, weather permitting, and it permits more often here, I went across the street with my camera to photograph the gulls, among other things. It was at this time that I got the idea for my book, The Gulls Are Always Laughing – A Gay Man’s Journey to Healing and Spirituality. That was based on the fact that the calls of the gulls sounded to me like laughter, and that made me recall one of my favorite quotes from Oscar Wilde, “Life is too important to be taken seriously.” To me, the gulls were telling me to lighten up and not take things so seriously.

There were several moments of awe during those walks, and since writing is also one of the tools in my happiness toolbox, I began writing about my beach experiences and viewing my photos when I got home. However, there was one very potent experience that perhaps I should have written about, but I never did. That occurred on the evening of the “Super Moon” on September 28, 2015. Still freshly moved to Texas with a barrage of stress that I not only experienced in my move, but was bludgeoned with after my arrival, I was using every tool in my happiness toolbox. Using those tools from my happiness toolbox, I happened to place myself, quite by accident, in a moment in time when I could have the optimal experience of the Super Moon.

Prior to that day, I had discovered a small, somewhat hidden beach across the street from where I first lived after moving to the Coastal Bend. On that small, hidden beach, I discovered sea glass, which didn’t seem to be as plentiful on other nearby beaches. Also, that small beach, hidden behind tall pompous grass, was a place where I rarely encountered any other people. So, it was a good place for contemplation and mindfulness. Not only did I take my camera across the street to photograph the gulls, but I also photographed sea glass, shells, and patterns in the sand. I would collect a few pieces of sea glass each time, put them in my pocket, and take them back home. Eventually, I filled an entire large glass vase with sea glass. That’s what I was doing on September 28, 2015. I was bent over, intently looking for sea glass, when I noticed that it was beginning to get dark. I thought, “I need to get back to my apartment.”  So, I stood upright to walk back home when I noticed something that filled me with tremendous awe. Rising in the eastern sky over the water was the Super Moon. Not only did it appear huge and orange on the low horizon, but it also sent silver shimmers of light across the darkening teal-blue water. Across the sky, there were reflections of light on the clouds of gold, magenta, and lavender. It goes down in the history book of my life as one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. I stood there a long time, just milking, in that moment, feeling such a tremendous presence of peace. Of course, I had my camera with me, so after a while, I decided to take photos. I believe art is where you find it, and if there is an opportunity for me to take a photo wherever I find it, I will. I was looking forward to getting back to my apartment to view those photos, but I didn’t leave that scene until the moon had risen high enough in the sky that the colors began to fade and darkness was surrounding it.

When I got back to my apartment, I immediately connected my camera to the computer to view those photos. I blew them up to fill the screen, and I was sorely disappointed. What I had witnessed could not be captured with the camera. No photo that I took that night did justice to what I had seen. None even came close. They are beautiful photos, indeed, but they failed to capture even a fraction of that experience. That moment of immersive awe is frozen in time in a very different way than the photographs. It will forever bring back at least a twinge of the feeling I had at that moment any time I call it back in my memory.

They say that awe is a very healthy experience because it can literally reduce inflammation and lower stress cortisol. Not only is it physically good for us, but it also, mentally and emotionally, suspends the ego and helps us feel connected to the world around us. Awe is something that small children experience regularly. A small child sees an inchworm crawling on a plant, and suddenly becomes mesmerized by it. The child is in a state of awe, experiencing the moment in the fullness of existence, that first sighting becoming an imprint upon the mind. Yet, as we age, those moments of awe come less and less frequently. Because they come less frequently, we have to learn to find ourselves in those moments, even if nothing happens to make us freeze in awe. Probably the most potent way to do this is through mindfulness, which involves bringing our full attention to the experience of any moment. It can be done practically anywhere, any time.  When we do it, we pull our attention away from the ego and onto the timelessness of the individual moment. I prefer to do it outside. When I take my walks, I notice things, and if I find one of those Art is Wherever You Find it moments, I will photograph it. Phones these days take photos as well as, if not better than, my camera did ten years ago. So, I pull out my phone camera and capture whatever art I find. If I’m speedwalking for exercise, I may pass up what I notice, but sometimes, even then, I will stop to grab a photo. When I practice mindfulness while sitting on my deck, I notice the leaves and flowers dancing in the breeze, the bird calls, and the tinkling of my wind chimes. I watch the hummingbirds come and go from my feeders, and there are times that I focus on something and experience the stillness of time. A Course in Miracles says, "NOW is the closest approximation of eternity which this world offers." So, when we practice mindfulness, we are getting little glimpses of eternity. When we have those experiences of being engulfed in awe, as I was when I saw the Super Moon in 2015, we get an even larger dose of eternity, of oneness with the universe itself.

There have been other moments of awe that I’ve experienced, of course. Some stand out as far more significant than others, but each one brought me to the core of the present moment. One was on a drive from Nashville home to Arkansas in the 1990’s, when another sunset, after a thunderstorm, spread brilliant colors across the sky from one side of the road to the other. One was when I stepped into the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul and experienced the magnificence of ancient art and architecture. Each one engulfed me in existence to the point that past and future ceased to exist for the suspense in time in which I was engulfed in awe.

If you think about it, haven’t there been moments of pure awe that you have experienced? When you think about those moments now, how do you feel? How would you like to reenact at least a small taste of those moments of awe regularly? You can do it through mindfulness practice. You can make almost anything, anywhere, anytime, into an experience of awe. All you have to do is concentrate your full attention on it. Maybe concentrate is not the right word to use. All you have to do is pull your awareness to the present moment without judgment or labeling, simply experience the moment as it is.  Seek those moments, look for art where you find it. Whether you photograph it or not, become aware of the moments in life that momentarily capture our attention, even if only briefly. Take account of those moments and appreciate them because, in those moments, there are not only our feelings of peace and serenity but also a practice for good health and well-being. Fill up your happiness toolbox, allow yourself to be frozen in time from time to time, and you will find that you are living life more fully, appreciating it more often, and enhancing your health and well-being all at once.

The Gulls Are Always Laughing – A Gay Man’s Journey to Healing and Spirituality will soon be coming out in audiobook format, and eBooks will soon be available again. In the meantime, paperback and hardcover books are linked to Amazon from my website.