My camera goes with me whenever my family visits any botanical garden. They’re places that grant moments of peace and introspection in the spring and summertime. To be surrounded by so many beautiful floral specimens, all at the peak of color and vitality, without having to have personally watered a single thing–bliss. I decidedly do not have a green thumb, you see.
At one point during this particular visit, though, I became overwhelmed by all the color and the sheer possibilities for photographic subjects. So I put the lens down… just let my eyes see everything and nothing and simply be. Not long afterwards, I stumbled upon a small cement gazing pool and composed this shot.
It speaks to me because I am the bowl, sometimes. For all my jagged and stretched imperfections, I spend an awful lot of time smoothing things over… with conciliatory words, make-up foundation or spandex. With a calm facade during a concert or a meeting, I am anything but serene inside. All it takes is a whisper of wind to mar the water’s surface. Everything affects how I see what’s within. This is why I carry myself over to a cocoon of leaves every so often. I’d rather have a canopy of trees reflected in my eyes.
It’s rare simply allowing myself to exist–without labels, without critique–but I am practicing.