I haven’t been feeling well and have needed to spend a lot of time resting on the couch. It gets old really quickly because there’s so much that I want to be doing, especially hanging out at the beach where I frequently see sea lions and harbor seals. But, until my body feels stronger, it will remain on the couch.
One of the things I like to do to help cheer myself up is to visit three of my favorite sea otters through an aquarium’s webcam. I’ve met them all before, and I love being able to watch them when I can’t be there in person. (They were all rescued as babies and aren’t able to be released back into the ocean, so they’re given as good of a life as possible at the aquarium and they all seem pretty content from what I can tell.)
Anyway, yesterday I turned on the camera and saw one of them (Oswald, I think) swimming around. A couple walked up to the viewing window, and I was excited to feel their excitement once they saw him swim right past them. (None of the otters pay much attention to the people in the window – they just swim on by.) Sure enough, as he got closer, one of the people quickly took a picture. I thought they would then put the camera down and be so fascinated that they would have a hard time tearing themselves away from the window as all three otters swam near them so agilely and playfully. However, they didn’t. As soon as they got their picture, they immediately left…onto the next exhibit, most likely.
Now, I admit that it’s very possible that I’m projecting here and writing my own story that is far from the truth. I can’t possibly know what was going on in their minds. Maybe they went to a different window and stayed and watched the otters from there. Or maybe they had already been watching and just wanted one more photo. All I know for sure is that my heart hurt after witnessing this because it was indicative of what I see so often when I’m at the beach, in a restaurant, or anywhere, really: the experience itself takes a backseat to getting the picture. Rather than immersing ourselves in life, so many of us have gotten into the habit of taking pictures of it so we can mark that we were there and then share them on social media as proof. Rather than fully soaking up the beauty and the magic of what’s happening right in front of us, so many are missing it all. And that makes me really sad.
We have some friends who told us that they once went to an art exhibit where a replica of a famous painting was made and put into a separate room because so many wanted to take selfies in front of it, rather than really taking in the beauty of the actual painting. I remember the first time I saw one of Jackson Pollock’s paintings up close for the first time, I was moved to tears. He’s my favorite painter, and the MoMA in NYC was showcasing many of his paintings. This particular one was so grand that you had to step far away from it just to take it all in. I sat on a bench in front of it in complete awe – mesmerized by all of the colors, the emotions, the strokes, the splatters…all of it. I don’t have a picture of that moment on my camera. But I will forever have a picture of it in my mind. And when I think about it, I feel all of the same emotions and awe that I felt then, all those years ago.
Now, I’m certainly not saying that we shouldn’t take pictures to document our adventures and moments from our lives that we want to remember and share with others. I do this all of the time. But what hurts my heart is when the documenting becomes more important than whatever we’re experiencing, looking at, enjoying. Because, in my opinion, the magic lies in the experience itself, in allowing ourselves to fully immerse in it. When we do, we won’t need a picture to remind us of it. It will be etched into our brains forever.
My fear is that by putting the focus on the picture instead of the experience, so many are missing out on life…on beauty. It’s true that Oswald the sea otter doesn’t care whether someone is fascinated by him and fully appreciates him. But I would hope that if the people I saw in the window had spent just a few more minutes watching him, they would have created a memory that they would never forget: seeing how graceful he is in the water, watching him play fight with Schuster and roll over and over again together until one of them decided they’d had enough and swam off, seeing him dive to the bottom to grab a toy or some food and come back up and put it on his belly to play with it or to eat it, and seeing him vigorously clean his body in the absolute cutest way ever. In my mind, that’s what it’s all about. The picture documents the experience. But if you don’t allow yourself to fully have the experience, the picture quickly loses its meaning and gets mixed in with all the others.
I guess to me it’s about slowing down and really being present in the moment. Opening up to it. Embracing it. Being in awe of it. Simply being in it. Making the time to give myself the gift of full immersion and full appreciation. And then taking a picture of it to help me remember this moment in my life and also to be able to share this moment with my friends and family.
As for Oswald, I hope to see him and his friends in person soon. In the meantime, I’ll keep turning on the webcam and appreciating them as fully as I’m able to. They’re amazing. This world we live in is amazing. Life is amazing. And I definitely want to soak as much of it up as possible in whatever way I’m able to. I wish that for us all.
Hugs,
