The Balm in Ordering a Photo Print and Planning a Photo Walk

I was having a listless morning at home, halfheartedly folding laundry and cleaning out my email box, plopped on my bed and feeling stuck and sad in my small world. I looked over at the shelf with cameras beckoning and realized I hadn’t used a camera in a couple of weeks, minus a few snapshots with my phone on a walk with the dog. I don’t like my phone to substitute as a camera, but if I keep it tucked away in a pocket or bag, it feels like it’s not there and it could be handy just in case. As I was searching, unsubscribing, and deleting a mountain of email, I discovered an offer for a free photo print from a drugstore chain. These offers pop up infrequently, but just often enough to keep me subscribed, which is surely part of the marketing psychology. I have taken advantage of the free prints a couple of times before and it’s fairly hassle free. The grey day was feeling slightly brighter, because I had a fun little project.

I opened a tab to my photos in cloud storage, of which I am still in the midst of organizing, indexing, and clearing out. I jumped over to the favorites and scrolled through some images. I noodled around a bit and found an image I liked, from a summer hike nine and a half years ago. I remembered that day as vividly as the blue of the sky in the photo. Trying to get out of grief-hazed funk and despite all my inclinations that day, I packed a light backpack with water, sunscreen, snacks, and a camera and drove an hour and a half to a hiking spot I had long wanted to visit. My day off in the middle of the week meant an empty trailhead parking lot greeted me that morning almost a decade ago. The hike, the movement, the surroundings, and my surprise excursion all helped to shake off the blues.

All of a sudden I was back on my bed looking at the sky on the screen rather than feeling the sun on my arms. I made a few clicks to download the memory from that hike and then toggled to the website with the free print code. I put the print in my internet cart and then came to the choice for pickup. I started to pick the location close by and then stopped. While the photo did remind me of a beautiful summer day, I realized that now it had more resonance for another reason. I recognized that I find myself in a similar, but different feeling sorrow. Aha. It was like touching a recent bruise to see if it still pulsed with pain. I looked over at my cameras and then back at the screen. Looking at the photo on my laptop, I see darkness and light with a hint of blue. That reads like a description of how I feel currently.

Instead of picking the nearby store, I clicked on the location on the east side of town and pressed enter to confirm the order. While the print would be ready in about an hour, I could pick it up the next day. I grabbed a camera, double-checked the charge of the battery, ensured that the memory card was formatted, and tossed it in my little camera bag and laid out warm clothes, a hat, gloves, and my old running shoes. Tomorrow morning, I have made an appointment with myself to walk to the little nature area on the far east end of town. I am hoping for a gorgeous sunrise, and there’s also an old barn and farmhouse nearby that appeal to me. On the way home, I will wander by the pharmacy and pick up the print. I have a simple black frame sitting on my desk waiting for the print, along with a hammer and nail so that this simple project doesn’t sit in limbo for days.

Will a free print and a walk to the nature area shake me completely out of my funk, my sadness? Maybe. Maybe for a minute, just like ordering the print and setting out my clothes and camera did. When I pinch my arm to bring me into the current moment (sometimes, yes, it takes a little pinch), I take a breath and exhale. All we have are the moments. Photos show those moments. A snapshot from a hike is a memory of both respite and awe.

Photography may not be the cure, but getting back to the things we love can help us in a moment on a dark November day or a bright June morning. We all go through loss and pain and while distraction doesn’t help deal with the pain, moving to small bright spots can remind us of other ways of being. Ordering that print and planning a long walk feel like making an appointment with joy. I have heard grief described as coming in waves and that feels like what this is. Coming to the present moment helps me. A breath, a pinch, a step, the feeling of my favorite camera in my hand. Photography and a hike helped me almost 10 years ago. Photography, a planned walk, and an ordered print of one of my favorite photos help me now.

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