humans for scale

say what you want about the pervasive nature of the smart phone and social media, acknowledging this might be a chicken vs egg game, but i think we can all agree that there is something reflexive about trying to capture a beautiful moment in a picture.

susan cain would describe an element of something’s inherent beauty being tied to its brevity. that an element of scarcity or rarity automatically increases awe-value. there’s some sort of added intrigue quotient multiplied when the thing we’re drawn to are outside of the norm, or preciously fleeting.

so we try to capture it. to remember it. to possess it.

i just finished an adventure to such a place. some of the most beautiful mountains, spires, valleys, wilderness, landscapes, ranges, and rocks that i have ever seen. made more awe-inspiring by the remoteness, the energy spent, the risks required, and miles traveled – definitely outside of my normal everyday life. and since returning, i have been scrolling through my pictures, sharing them with friends, and repeatedly finding myself saying, ‘and the pictures don’t even do it justice.’

i can recall times on trail when various members of our group would catch an eye for a crazy cool shot, repeatedly reaching for phones and cameras throughout the day in the ever-changing scenery. a not uncommon occurrence, someone would catch an angle with a member of our group way ahead or behind on trail with an accompanied, “wait, hold there!” noting the human for scale.

looking back now, those are some of my favorite pictures. one’s with a tiny little hiker in the corner of the picture with massively impressive peaks and spires all around. the human becomes a reference to the scale of the landscape. and remembering that the picture represents a single moment, on a single section of trail, hedged before and after so many other incredible moments and scenes not captured – i melt into smallness, in the most peaceful way.

framing is everything.

i think in the backwards, upside-down world of apprenticing to jesus, it’s the small that becomes big. we descend to ascend. the blessed are the last and the lowly. it’s all in whose lens i’m looking through. i could keep trudging along, left foot right foot, seeing only the hard terrain i’m on. or i could pause, look to the hills, see behind and before, where i’ve come, the path that lays ahead, and let awe carry the moment. capture it. possess it. then take one more step.

the gift of feeling small is the awareness of what’s truly big.
the gift of being emptied is the experience of being filled full again.
the gift of undeniable weakness is requiring unshakeable strength.
perspective is everything.
humans for scale.