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Can't Get This Picture Out of My Head: Missed Opportunities and Treasures of the Mind August 31, 2025 19:52
I sat outside this afternoon to practice. It was a beautiful August day—blue sky, unseasonably cool temperatures. The chattering squirrels and spiraling songs of rowdy cicadas cheered me on from nearby hickory, maple, and walnut trees.
In between segments of the sadhana, I thought about an image that struck me earlier in the morning. I was pumping gas at a nearby station, and I was running late for an appointment. Zora was in her cat carrier in the front seat, and we were headed to the vet for her annual check-up.
I was impatient, and I was anxious about running behind. I heard the sounds of Canada geese honking nearby. When I looked up, I saw a flock flying in a perfect “V” formation, their wings slicing into the bluish pink morning sky. They soared right over us.
If I’d had my phone on me, I would have snapped a pic or recorded a short video. I didn’t; it was in the front seat with Zora. Instead, I paused, took a few deep breaths and enjoyed the moment.
Soon, we were on our way, and I appreciated that this flock of feathered friends reminded me of the importance of being present.
***
I enjoy taking pictures. I’m not a professional photographer, by any stretch, but when I see images that stop me in my tracks, I like to capture them on film, if possible. Sometimes, it’s not possible, and these moments are often more compelling than the ones I do capture because these are the images that stay with me the longest. I can’t share them with others in the way that I would like, but they are stashed away in my memory, and occasionally they resurface at unexpected times.
***
Several decades ago, before my daughter was born, Jim and I went to a summer intertribal pow wow in Lebanon, Indiana.
We arrived early, before the grand entry of dancers, and wandered the fairgrounds to check out the vendor booths. At one point, I happened to see a tall indigenous man standing by his pick-up truck in a nearby field. He was a fancy dancer preparing for the grand entry. His feather bustles and arm bands were resting on the tailgate of his pick-up. He was wearing a bright blue shirt, leggings, and a crown of porcupine hair, and he was applying face paint with the help of his truck’s side mirror.
The irony is, I had my camera with me, and I had an opportunity to capture a great photo. However, I was too shy to approach him and ask if it was OK for me to take his picture. This missed opportunity is so vivid in my mind, even thirty years later.
It’s a pleasant memory, not one laced with regret or disappointment. It’s like finding an old photograph, one that only I can see clearly—or a treasure that I can’t quite grasp or share with others.
***
When we were in India recently, I had two moments similar to this. Both of them happened so quickly that I didn’t have time to reach for my phone to snap a pic.
One happened in Dharamshala. We were in a taxi heading to the airport. The weather had been foggy and rainy, and we didn’t know if we could even catch a flight back to Delhi or not. But the skies cleared in the afternoon, and we hustled to the airport to catch our scheduled flight.
On the way, we were driving on a narrow dirt road in a small village. In the middle of the road was an elderly Indian man walking. He was holding a rope that was tethered to a large elephant who was walking down the road with him. Its head was light gray with dark brown spots like freckles. They both walked slowly, with purpose. The elephant’s ears flapped leisurely in the afternoon sun, and our taxi whizzed by them both before I could even think about reaching for my phone.
This image proved to be a good omen. We made it safely to the airport and were able to catch our flight back to Delhi.
***
About a week later, when we were at Sera Mey Monastery in Bylakuppe, we passed a group of a dozen or so young monks who were on their way to class. They were maybe twelve or thirteen-years-old, and all of them were dressed in maroon robes. It was early in the morning, and one of the monks caught my attention. He was trailing behind a bit, carrying his books in one hand and half of a dragon fruit in the other.
He looked sleepy, and he had a bright pink smear of dragon fruit juice on one of his cheeks as he was trying to eat, walk, and keep up with his dharma brothers.
The sleepy gaze, vibrant fuchsia fruit, the maroon robes, and the stain on the cheek—it would have made for a wonderful photo, but it happened so fast. I wouldn’t have had time to take the snap even if I had been waiting with my phone and ready to shoot.
***
All of these images belong in my memory, not in a photo album or Facebook post. They are all beautiful reminders of how fleeting and amazing this world is—and how important it is to appreciate the present moment. These moments weren’t meant to be captured and preserved. They weren’t meant to be aligned and cropped with added filters or enhanced colors. They were meant to be appreciated as they happened in real time without grasping, clinging, or attaching.
In some ways, these missed opportunities are more vivid and precious than the photos that I have been able to take, and I am grateful that they resurface from time to time for me to think about and enjoy again.
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I hope that the month of August has treated you well, and I hope you enjoy the upcoming Labor Day Holiday.
I will be one of many vendors at the upcoming First Saturday Bazaar at The Playful Soul in Indianapolis on September 6th. If you’re in the Indy area, please stop by and say, “Hello," and perhaps take home a beautiful mala or quarter mala to support your practice.
If you’re not local, please take a look at the current Middle Moon Malas collection of hand-knotted malas. I also create custom designs as well. Don’t hesitate to send me an email via the Contact Us page for requests and inquiries.
Until next month, take care, keep practicing, and don’t forget to enjoy the present moment.