There are days when the weight of grief feels almost unbearable, pressing down like a storm cloud that refuses to lift. Coupled with a sinus infection, blocked ear, and runny nose, it’s tempting to retreat entirely, to wrap myself in blankets and hide from the world. But on this particular day, I made the decision to push through, to venture out into nature with my camera, seeking solace in the simple beauty that so often offers me comfort.
I didn’t expect much. My body was aching, my head heavy, and my ear blocked to the point where each sound felt distant and muffled. But I knew that staying inside would only amplify the grief. So, I grabbed my camera and headed out, determined to at least try. As I walked, the cool breeze on my face and the rustle of leaves in the trees began to lift some of the weight. My steps felt lighter, and even though my nose was still running and my ear still blocked, I started to feel a sense of peace that I hadn’t felt in days.
The first sight that caught my eye was a Red-Winged Blackbird, its vibrant red shoulder patches contrasting beautifully against the foliage. I managed to capture a shot, and it was as though the bird's bright colours reminded me that there’s still beauty to be found, even on the darkest days.
Further along, I noticed a group of Starlings perched on a telephone wire, their silhouettes stark against the sky. They seemed to be having a conversation of their own, perhaps discussing the change of seasons or the best spots to find food. I snapped a photo, finding comfort in their communal presence.
And then there was the ocean, its waves gently lapping against the shore, offering a sense of calm that only the sea can provide. I stood there for a moment, just breathing it in, grateful for the beauty of the view and the feeling of being alive, despite the sadness and physical discomfort.
As I made my way back, I was rewarded with the sight of a gold-crowned sparrow. It wasn’t the easiest shot to get, but I managed, and in that moment, I realized that this small act of stepping outside, of engaging with the world even when everything inside me wanted to retreat, was the best medicine I could have taken.
I didn’t photograph a lot that day. But the few images I did capture are a reminder that nature has a way of healing, of offering small moments of joy and peace, even in the midst of grief and illness. And for that, I am deeply grateful.
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