Pull over, regardless of how fast you are driving

Newport Bridge in the morning light

This may sound stupid.  This may sound silly.  This may sound like I’m trying to project some sort of wisdom that I haven’t even earned yet in my 27 years on this planet.  This might sound a little cliche, like one of those old adages that have been worn out to the point of having no meaning.  These are words that I live by, words that I stand behind.  Next time that you see something worth looking at, pull over.

I travel quite a bit for work.  My commute lately ranges from a 500 mile flight to northern Maine or an hour and half drive to nowheresville Connecticut.  Wherever work seems to take me I always bring my camera because I just never know what I will come across on my journey.  I don’t have the foresight to tell me what blissful moment will grab my attention.  I like to capture these moments so I can keep them forever, for I am not one of the fortunate 2-10 percent of people with eidetic memory.  My Nikon is as close as I can get to that wish.

Farm near Madawaska, ME

So now I’m going to project my experience out into the internet. In this fast paced world where time seems to accelerate with every passing day, there seems to be less and less time to savor moments that nature and existence has to offer (this could also be due to my 50-60+ hour work weeks).   I have been recently finding myself running faster than my feet will allow way more than I would like to admit, and have probably missed moments that could relax my mind and feed my soul.  Whenever I stop this machine and come to a halt something strange happens.  Time stops.  Everything stops and I am frozen in a spiritual moment of utter bliss with the scene in front of me, even if just for a few seconds.  There is no thought, no problems, no place that I need to be for that little perfect slice of time.  This is why I pull over.  This is also why I’m becoming addicted to photography.  I’m 100% certain strangers who have never met me in person but have driven behind me on any of New England’s highways, back roads, and alleyways can back up my claims.  If you see a red Ford Ranger swerve off on the shoulder with the 4-ways on for no reason please pay no attention to the wide eyed geologist that flings the door open, runs off into the weeds, and starts snapping away.   He won’t notice you, he’s somewhere else.

Vermont in the Fall

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