Patience

The sun rose this morning at 7:12 am so I made sure that's when I was on the end of the jetty at the Broad Bay yacht club. The wind was quiet enough to leave the surface of the harbour untroubled, and there were a few clouds, so I was hoping for a spectacular sunrise. It didn't happen. The sun rose thin and weak and pathetically pastel pink. There were no birds except a few welcome swallows - too small and fast to photograph in the available light. I gave it a few minutes and was about to walk back to my car but decided instead to follow my own advice to beginning meditators: wait; be still; don't mind if nothing happens; just be here. It was so quiet and beautiful, and who cared if I didn't get my trophy shot? It was healing and calming and enriching just to be.

After a half hour or so I turned again, walked slowly back to my car and noticed the subtlety of the light on the clear still water. I got my shot. Not the one I had planned, but a better one. And another. And another. Later, I drove home and there were spoonbills in the inlet. Gifts all around me! Thank you.

I am not a patient man. But what photography needs, as much as it needs nice gear and know how, is patience. And so does the inner way. The spiritual life requires, above all, and teaches first, patience.

Photos: Nikon D750. For the harbour shot I used a Nikkor 24-120/f4, 1/80, f8, iso200. I kept the iso low to minimise grain, used an aperture which gave maximum sharpness for this lens. The photo was post processed with Lightroom. The spoonbills were shot with a Tamron 150-600 on a monopod, 1/320, f8, iso 800. The light was still poor, and this lens does best in strong light. Again, I chose an aperture that would maximise sharpness and shutterspeed and iso as low as I could get away with and post processed in Lightroom.

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