Water is Still Water...

Water Droplets on a Leaf Copyright 2025 JeanMaher.com

I've found water to be a subject in my photos in all seasons of the year. Summer - after the rain, or spring, when snow is melting and water flows swiftly over and around the roots of a tree in its path.

Spring Flood Copyright 2025 JeanMaher.com

In winter and when the conditions are right, water can form beautiful crystals on last fall's plant stalk.

Prairie plant, Crystalized. Copyright 2025 JeanMaher.com

Shapes can form near the shore in gently moving water - even snow globes.

Winter Snow Globes Copyright 2025 JeanMaher.com

What is amazing to me is that in all of these conditions, water is still water, just in a different form. I have read about how people simply could look to water as the model and emulate its steadiness and ability to flow through and around obstacles. I thought I understood, but it showed up again in a book I've been reading and struck a deeper place in me. I've met just a handful of people who are the same, steady people, no matter what the circumstance. They are constant in their actions and in how they see life and seem to weather what life puts in their path. Like water!

I realize it takes practice to be that steady, and it takes discipline to practice daily, being awake and allowing things to flow. At a deeper level now, I continue to practice being the same steady (consistent?) person, no matter what shows up in my path.

Full Stop

Goldfinch to the Feeder Copyright 2025 JeanMaher.com

I've been experimenting with taking photos in continuous shooting mode. I'm becoming aware that it can be a good thing to use that feature, and hazardous at the same time. It's a bit of a shock how MANY photos I can capture with one press of the button. Then to cull out the ones that just aren't clear. Wading through 100 photos of birds approaching a bird feeder for example, can be tedious... more to learn on that front. However, capturing the action of a bird in flight in a still photo, full stop and in focus is so rewarding!

I sensed there was something here for me to see about stopping. Becoming still is something that I've been practicing. To get to stillness of course, I first have to stop moving so fast in my life, including thinking, and talking, going on autopilot, not being present; you get the idea. It's comfortable, those old habits, often doesn't result in me making forward progress.

Bluebird at birdbath Copyright 2025 JeanMaher.com

However, taking a photo that captures the grace of a bird in flight is quite rewarding. I was able to do so because I stood still, waited and acted with full awareness of what I was doing. That takes me in a different direction entirely.

I guess the lesson is that there is beauty (and personal reward) in stopping and slowing down with anything!

The outstretched wings of a bird, frozen in a photo remind me that stillness allows me to see things better, and life seems to slow down a bit. I see in these photos the beauty and grace and symmetry of their feathers, how each is just the right length and held in the perfect way to be able to swoop in and land on a small target at a bird feeder or birdbath.

When I don't practice stillness, it's like looking at a blurry camera shot - the shadow of a bird. I'm not clear. Life then seems to go by in a blur. I miss things I might have seen by stopping, taking a breath, and relaxing into stillness so I can see. With stillness, I have the chance to see each feather in my life in intricate detail.

The Road to Nowhere

Pine on Rabbit Mountain in black and white copyright 2025 JeanMaher.com

Living in the Midwest, I'm so used to smaller vistas, like an overlook onto a lake that may have hills beyond. The view is more finite. But here in the foothills of the western mountains, the distances one can see are so much greater, and the sky and clouds much closer to me. On this late afternoon, I was hiking up a stony path, camera gripped securely in my hand, aware of the fading light and the need to keep an eye on my steps on a rocky inclined path. The way wound upward along the side of a ridge. I kept climbing, aware the top of the ridge was close, judging by how far down I could see the sky through the trees above me, something I'd learned to watch for over portages in the Boundary Waters of Minnesota when carrying a heavy pack or canoe that kept me going, and hinted at a slope going down to the next lake.

I was drawn to another view, a faint path to this solitary pine partway down the slope. I loved the bravery of the tree, standing here in the wind, and snapped a few pictures. A person could have reached the tree from any manner of directions, making their own path, but others before had found a way and I followed it. Beside me, the grasses waving in the wind and dried flowers that grew in the recent summer were still beautiful in their own way. My eyes took them in, but I stayed on the narrow path.

I thought about how often in my life I've taken or tried any number of approaches to something, when the best approach was to be disciplined enough stay the course and follow my heart. Maybe staying on a path could feel limiting, but I read recently that there is freedom in discipline. It struck me differently than before. It resonated with me. With discipline, I don't take a tangent. I don't waste precious time. I just look at the grasses and plants along the way and go forward, mindful of time passing and the need to get off the mountain while I could still see the way. The reward is the view - the vastness of possibilities that open up when I follow my path and get on with it.

Pine on Rabbit Mountain in color copyright 2025 JeanMaher.com

The key is to keep going, growing and commit to being disciplined. Stay the course and keep moving forward. I'm in for that!