Gneti, the puppy pictured above, knows how to balance motion and stillness. She runs, plays, bites ankles, and then collapses in her doggie bed when she’s all worn out. I need to take notes from Gneti. She has a zest for life and makes time for naps.
I've been paying close attention to the link between motion and stillness because I’ve been participating in The Photo Essay Project. Last week we concentrated on those concepts.
The focus of the week was serendipitous because I’ve been dealing with an injured knee. It’s the same knee I hurt when I was a competitive skier and after I ran my first marathon. I didn’t give myself enough time to recover and haven’t been able to run consistently since that race. I’m not sure how I hurt my knee again. I suspect that it was a combination of things like riding on a bike seat that was too low, walking in shoes that were uncomfortable, and my inability to be still. I kept cycling and walking too far, even though my knee felt like an overstretched rubber-band.
Do you notice a theme here? I have trouble slowing down and listening to my body.
When The Photo Essay Project started I had big plans. I planned on going for long photo walks across town, but my ability to travel far on foot is limited. The good news is, I’m actually listening to my body. Rather than pushing myself, I'm capturing photos in my apartment, neighborhood, and from my bike. In short, I'm moving slowly. As Bindu aptly noted, “Photography can be a vehicle in which we explore our lives.”
Taking photos is one way I observe motion and stillness. How do you find a balance between stillness and motion?