one of the best parts about spending the month in western north carolina is getting to spend time with my brother, who lives in asheville. and one of the best things about his status here as a local is that he takes us on adventures that cannot be found on trail maps and in guidebooks. who knew that there are hidden trail heads on exit ramps and places on earth where poison ivy and private property give way to scenes like this?

the monkey and bird were experiencing  their first day of clubs, a day camp at montreat, while the adults were embarking upon waterfall hike. but i could not help but be distracted by daydreams of a future time, when my little boys will be big boys, old enough and eager to climb the rocks and dunk their heads under the rushing water. sometimes there is so much promise in the future that it is difficult to stay in the present.

in our current stage of toddlerhood, afternoon naps, and the boys’ almost constant need for assistance, it is so easy to get swept away by far off notions that someday, adult conversation and uninterrupted sleep will re-enter our lives. and then i catch myself forgetting that this time of sloppy nose-kisses, uninhibited delight, the honest articulation of fears, sweet sweaty ringlets, triumph over small accomplishments, and the natural wisdom of innocence is fleeting and precious.  i know i will long for this stage when it is gone.

when we were on our way to the mountains on friday, i received an email from the rental company pressuring us to decide upon our rental plans for next year. never mind that we had not even begun our mountain adventure for the current year. never mind that we were, at the time, simply trying to make a bag of pipe cleaners last for the remainder of our trek down I-40.

the world will lure us prematurely into the future if we haven’t already wandered there ourselves. for me, being fully present in the moment is something i talk about and value, though i find it almost impossible to do! apparently, as i learned on our hike, wearing a t-shirt emblazoned with the words, “BE PRESENT” does not automatically calm the multi-tasking mind.

funny how this does, though:

i take solace in the fact that there are moments scattered here and there that seem to stand outside of time. thank goodness for a spontaneous plunge into frigid water; the surrender of the bird, who stops resisting his nap long enough to rest his head on my chest; and the first cup of coffee enjoyed on a tree-top porch.

speaking of coffee, let us not underestimate its importance when it comes to living in the present and parenting small children.

there’s a little book on my shelf called present moment, wonderful moment by spiritual teacher thich nhat hanh. on every page, there’s a short meditation encouraging readers to live life in the present moment. ordinary activities like hand-washing, teeth-brushing, tea-drinking and laundry-folding are re-framed as potential moments of prayer and gratitude.

next to that book sits my camera, a birthday gift from my husband that truly has revolutionized the images i’ve been able to capture of my kids, who are growing up like little weeds before my very eyes. only, let’s be real. my camera is never just sitting on the shelf these days beside a book about meditation. it has quite the social calendar, filled with walks, vacations, picnics, holiday gatherings, dates with the charger, and hook-ups with my hard drive. 

the problem is, now when i am out enjoying glorious spring weather with my family, and the monkey settles into a posture of rare stillness under a tree and beside a lake, for example, i have two conflicting voices that battle it out in my head. thich nhat hanh says, “live fully into this present moment. use it as a prayer for thanksgiving.” on the other hand, that old kodak commercial asserts itself with the push to drop everything and run for my camera. since i cannot laminate my children and preserve these precious years for all eternity, i feel the need to at least capture moments here and there. poor thich nhat hanh. i rarely ever listen to him.

in their book, i was a really good mom before i had kids, trisha ashworth and amy nobile write, “…our children…look to us to figure out how to enjoy their own lives, to decide what’s valuable in their days. do you want your children to think of a rainbow as a photo op or do you want them to learn how to pause and appreciate the beauty that’s before them right now” (161)?

ashworth and nobile make a good point. i want my children to be able to enjoy beauty without having to take it home or own it or freeze it in a still frame. on the other hand, my dabblings in photography have also actually helped me to look more closely at the intricate harmony in the natural world. with camera in hand, i’m much more likely to lie down in the cool grass to see something from a different angle or notice how much sweeter a sunset is with a little blond monkey curl in the foreground. i want my children to embrace this way of seeing as well.

but what i’ll probably end up passing along to the next generation is the tension i feel between capturing moments and living them. in a world filled with such beauty, surely this befuddlement is all part of experiencing the awe. it makes me sad to think that someday, the monkey won’t remember how to stand under a brilliant tree next to a lake and smile at the wonders of nature. but maybe then he’ll do as i have done, and let the camera lead him back into the way of appreciation.

[my sister-in-law is the subject of the first picture in this post. she shares the tension i describe above, and the two of us are often mistaken for tourists at family gatherings. also, the sources for this post can be found on the bibliography page located on the sidebar to your right.]