On Aug 13, 2010, at 12:15 AM, Moose wrote:
> On 8/12/2010 7:13 AM, Bob Whitmire wrote:
>> Nice shots. We've got a sky full of those this morning. I had a
>> religious experience with clouds yesterday afternoon,
>
> Ooooooh! How nice.
>
>> and, as with so many such, no camera to hand.<g>
>
> It would only capture the clouds, not the experience.
>
>> But that's a story for another day. Besides, I'm not sure I could
>> put it into words.
>
> The common problem with those experiences. Still, if you try, I'd be
> interested. Hmmm, I have a book you might enjoy ...
Late afternoon, Nobleboro Athletic Field, just off Route 1 north of
Damariscotta. I was facing east. The clouds were moving out of the
west toward the east, thus coming in from behind me and seeming to
vector (?) on infinity out in front of me. The ground slopes away from
my location to the end of a pond, which, in any other state, would be
a lake. Cool breeze off the water, but that's beside the point.
The occasion was bocce. The agency I work for, which provides support
services to the mentally handicapped, sports a Special Olympics team,
and the team practices twice a week year round. Sometimes it's
walking, sometimes it's running, sometimes it's skiing and
snowshoeing. In high summer, it's bocce (a Special Olympics sport).
Roughly 25-30 people present, about two-thirds clients of the agency,
one third support staff and SO volunteers. I'm suffering mild
tendonitis in my right hip, so I wasn't playing, but rather was
ensconced in a lawn chair facing the courts. The particular cloud in
question was at my one o'clock. Shaped like a hamburger bun edge-on,
with burger tucked in, one bite taken out of the middle. Mostly
varying shades of white, with some dark gray here and there. I think
the dark gray was actually at a different altitude.
Lots of texture, changing slowly as the cloud moved away from me. The
religious experience came as I considered the light at the point of
the large bite. I don't believe I've ever seen such a brilliant white--
pure, for sure, but without being blown out. Radiant, but I was able
to stare right into it without my eyes hurting, or trying to dodge
away. By all the gods that were or ever may be--and I am a confirmed,
rock-solid agnostic in the classic sense--I swear someone had left the
gate open, perhaps unattended, and I was staring directly into
Paradise. It mesmerized me. I couldn't look away. As the sun dropped
lower behind me, the light began to change, the white to take on
warmer, more subtle hues, but still more radiant that English has the
capacity to describe.
I watched until finally whomever was in charge of the gate recovered
sufficient wits to drop the curtain, and in a blink it was just
another lovely cloud drifting magesticsally toward the horizon, slowly
evaporating into the atmosphere.
AND NOT ANOTHER LIVING SOUL AMONG US HAD NOTICED!
No one. Nothing. I kept trying to call attention to what was going on
overhead, but nothing came out and no one else noticed. They just kept
playing bocce like there was nothing above us but blue sky unto
eternity.
I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. Not sure if I'd had a
camera I would have been able to lift it and click the shutter. Not
sure any film or any sensor could have rendered that radiance
faithfully.
Makes me think sometimes you're not supposed to try to take the
picture. It's enough that you notice.
--Bob Whitmire
www.bobwhitmire.com
--
_________________________________________________________________
Options: http://lists.thomasclausen.net/mailman/listinfo/olympus
Archives: http://lists.thomasclausen.net/mailman/private/olympus/
Themed Olympus Photo Exhibition: http://www.tope.nl/
|