Every weekday, I drive past the same empty field on my way to drop my kids off at school. It seems that at least one morning a week, it’s covered in a low lying mist that begs to be photographed. And yet, every morning, I drive right by (twice – there and back).
I imagine what the image would look like. I frame it up in my mind. Would I want it to appear mystical, ethereal? Or maybe I’d make my shot dark and foreboding. So many possibilities.
But only if I stop.
Why don’t I pull over? My camera is always in my bag, tucked out of the way near the car door, literally within reach. Is it due to self consciousness because at least three out of four times I’m still in my bathrobe? Is it because the street is winding with no shoulder and not the safest place to park?
Or maybe it’s because I’m afraid. Afraid I’ll put forth the effort and the picture I make won’t live up to what I imagined. Then I’d have to face my own mediocrity, which frankly, I’m already certain of. It’s a lot easier to make excuses than it is to make an attempt, right?
Sometimes, we’re more comfortable with fear than with failure.
I think next time I should stop, don’t you?
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