There are days when it’s wise to put some time aside to take stock. The hurly-burly of daily life can make great demands on our time and our energy and the challenges of simply getting from point A to point B safely have a tendency to consume our thoughts and distract our attention from those things that truly matter.
These are the days when, in quiet moments, we can reflect and appreciate the value of true friends and family, the great good fortune to possess the freedoms that we enjoy and to acknowledge the resources at our disposal.
Life can pass us by if we’re not careful. We are surrounded, each and every day, by an infinite number of things, simple things, which have the power to put our usual concerns into context and to fill our hearts with inspiration and joy. The trick is to notice them, to cherish them and to realise that it is these simple, delightful things that make life worth living.
Yes, I’ve gone all touchy-feely. Sorry about that. When you’ve just spent a great weekend in Varanasi with fellow photographers Jon McCormack and Steve Gluskoter, stepped out onto the riverside ghats before dawn to photograph the sunrise, walked through the narrow streets and alleyways of old Varanasi and been welcomed into a local village by the most gentle and genial of hosts then it’s difficult to avoid getting just a little sentimental. You have my apologies 
Rowing down the sacred Ganges river at dusk
My point is this: there are places like Varanasi and Kathmandu; where I am currently spending some “me” time; where it is impossible not to appreciate the simple things that can be so very valuable. The trick, I think, is to take a moment to cast your eyes around you when you are not in Varanasi or Kathmandu and to quietly list those things that you might sometimes take for granted but which lift your spirit. I’d offer you my own list but it wouldn’t capture the sense of what I mean nearly as well as reclusive artist Kerewin Holmes does in Keri Hulme’s book, “Bone People” when she is asked “What do you love?”.
“What do I love? Very little. The Earth. The stars. The sea. Cool, classical guitar. Throbbing flamenco. Any colour under the sun or hidden deep in the breast of my mother Earth. Ah Papa my love, what joys do you yet conceal? And storms… and the thunderous breaking surf. And the farout silent waves. And o, dolphins and whales! The singing people, my sisters in the sea… and anything that displays gentle courage, steadfast love. The still brilliance of garnet, all wine, water of life and bread of heaven and brave shimmering moon…”
Towards the end of a memorable weekend photographing in Varanasi I was visited by a reliable and faithful friend: my rainbow-coloured umbrella. I first made its acquaintance in Nepal where it was being carried by a group of monks. You may recall the desktop wallpaper I posted last year? Since then, it has appeared in numerous locations around the world and I’ve begun to see it as a personal reminder that I should endeavour to see things for their true value. I ask you, what could be more uplifting than a multi-coloured, rainbow-hued umbrella? For me, that’s more than enough.
On this occasion, the umbrella had sprouted four small legs and toddled slowly towards me down a rain-soaked Varanasi alleyway.
Shooting purely for fun that afternoon, I was armed only with a Lensbaby but it seems to have been the perfect lens with which to capture this adorable brother and sister as they slowly walked home. He clutched at his sister’s yellow dress whilst she put all her effort into holding the giant umbrella aloft. As they walked on down the alleyway and the sound of my camera shutter gently clicked I realised that, for me, here was a perfect moment. Important to notice those when they come your way.
So, wherever you are and whatever you are doing today, my gentle suggestion to you, dearest reader, is to enjoy just a few moments to take stock, to appreciate those simple but valuable things that lift your spirit and fill your heart. If you don’t have your own friendly rainbow-coloured umbrella then I’ll gladly share mine. If nothing else, it will keep us both dry.
