This last weekend was a roller coaster of emotions and reflections. A good portion of it was spent up in the highlands of Scotland, touring the Isle of Skye, walking along the streets of Inverness, and appreciating the fine mountain air that escaping the dense city of London afforded me. I went traveling with one of my best friends here, and I was very grateful for her company as we took selfies, ate delicious Scottish beef, and survived all four seasons of weather that happened to come upon us all at once (rain, snow, sleet, sunshine, repeat). I also had the pleasure of walking around Camden Market and the Regents Canal when I returned to London, taking in some beautiful weather and enjoying some of the best street food the city has to offer (a crispy duck burger with blue cheese on a brioche bun? Yes please!)
However, as I was gallivanting across Scotland and strolling along the canals, I realized that I was witnessing beauty in its purest form, a form that I may never get to see again. The clear blue water of Loch Ness, the deep shades of green in each finely sculpted tree and shrub, the multitude of yellow flowers dotting the Scottish countryside, all of this was utterly and uniquely perfect, breathtaking in fact. I knew I couldn’t take all this scenery in and that I also wouldn’t capture everything with the snap of a picture. So I decided to do something this weekend that many millennials aren’t too familiar with: I decided to not worry about recording everything. While I did still take pictures, I worried about seeing something with my own eyes more than seeing it through a lens. I walked leisurely and I took my time with exploring and observing. Instead of trying to save everything, I wanted to savor everything.
After I took the above picture of the Eilean Donan Castle in Scotland, I stood for a good three minutes and just tried to take in, visually, what I was witnessing. Here is a castle that has stood the test of time for over 1200 years and was still absolutely beautiful in 2016. The mountains in the background, large and looming, stood watch over the tiny fortress, its stone bridge protruding over the surrounding loch as a welcoming arm to visitors. The deep shades of green in the thick grass, spotted here and there with vibrant yellow daffodils, gave color to a somber and lonely castle. Sprouting up from the ground, the flagpole holds the dramatic Scottish flag fluttering almost wildly in the strong northern winds. All of this paints a picture in my mind of what Scotland was like, in that moment, to me. A picture may be worth a thousand words, but that memory leaves me at a loss for words.
Why just today, I tried to do the same thing and took a two hour stroll along Regents Canal. Again, everything was just too perfect to explain with one picture: The rippling of the water as each gondola glided by, the bright yellows, blues and purples of the flowers nestled on the bank, and the beautiful blue sky dotted with a puffy white cloud here and there. Another truly memorable and undeniably authentic experience, undisturbed by the technology which seemingly consumes us all.
Sometimes, it is simply so rewarding to plant yourself in the moment, take in what’s around you, and record a memory rather than a photo.
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