This one is old. Evidently so am I, as this was back when I was in college and first starting out and you shot film. Yes, I said film and you had to wait for your photos. Which meant you either had to get in the dark room or wait for the developer to find out if you REALLY got your shot. Those were the days where my camera was like an extension of me. Where everything was a potential picture and I was learning the nuances of my equipment and how to coax what I wanted out of it.
I was in a painting class, but that was never really my forte. The class took a trip to Taos, New Mexico every year to paint and I convinced my instructor to let me come but for photography. While on the trip, they would gather each night and share and discuss what they had painted that day. Since I wouldn’t be doing that, my attendance was under the condition that I had to present my pictures to the class after our return.
Being a born and raised Louisiana girl, this was one of my first real trips out of state. And it was worth every minute despite the misadventures along the way that included multiple flat tires on my parent’s van. The zero humidity gave me the best hair days of my life but also nose bleeds that finally stopped the day before we left. But the mountains… I’ve been in mountains. Specifically, the Ozarks which are full of every shade of green and the colors of fall when you visit in the fall season. But this was something different entirely. I found myself shooting picture after picture of the rock formations. As the sun moved across, the image changed. It was like looking at a different mountain from one time of day to the next. The shadows changed, different scars or cracks were visible then it was as if they had disappeared. And the colors were mesmerizing. Not greens, as we barely saw a desert shrub, but grays, reds, tans and more. Those changed with the light as well. Suddenly you would see a hint of blue or yellow in the red. I never thought of mountains looking like this but here I was in the absence of the foliage I was so accustomed to, and it was stunning.
It was glorious and I was glad I have the tendency to overpack so I had more film than I ever should have ever been able to shoot… but somehow, I managed it.
The place we stayed was like a camp. Very simple, with cafeteria style meals, etc. It really gave you the feel of sort of roughing it but still being indoors. I felt like I was in a real artist colony. If you wished to explore and would miss lunch, you could request a bag lunch and I did almost every day. I would pack my bag, grab my cameras and not come back until sundown for dinner. Did I mention it was glorious?
But the thing that seemed to elude me all those days was a good sunset shot. Don’t get me wrong, I had gotten a few but not the “one”. God paints the New Mexico sky with a stunning palette of orange, red, and yellow that is almost impossible to put into words. And I had made it a mission to get one before we left but I found myself running out of time.
The evening that the whole group had gone out for one last dinner and I found that God’s palette and the unique mountain ranges were the perfect backdrop outside the restaurant. In typical fashion for me, it wasn’t as easy as just walking outside and snapping a few pictures. Even in summer, the nights in New Mexico are cool, especially for this Louisiana girl. Add to that, we were on a mesa, so fairly high up and the winds were particularly strong that night. If you’ve ever taken a shot like this you know, you have to be very aware of movement. Because of your camera settings, even the slightest movement can affect the shot. So there I was, shivering in the cold and then suddenly being swept to the side from a gust of wind. I won’t deny I was getting a little frustrated that the shot just wasn’t in the cards. But my friends came through for me. They saw my frustration, accessed the situation and came up with a plan. We sat on a set of steps and they huddled up beside me, shoulder to shoulder. They kept me warm and kept me steady… and I got my shot.
Sometimes, all we need is friend to help steady our shot…
Reflection Prompts
- When the wind lifts
- Where in your life is there a breeze—or a gust—making your hands tremble?
- Whose presence slows your breath? How might you ask, simply: “Will you sit with me while I steady this?”
- Letting yourself be held
- What softens in you when help arrives?
- What might you set down, just for now?
- Light that keeps moving
- What story in your life shows new colors as the day turns?
- If you waited for the “film” to develop, what truth might come into focus on its own?
Gentle Practices
- Quiet Tripod
- Name one person, one place, one practice that steadies you. Choose one today and make a one-sentence ask.
- Steps at Sunset
- Near dusk, lean against something solid. Feel the support. Take one unedited photo or write four soft lines—enough.
- Gratitude Whisper
- Send a short note: “Thank you for being a steady shoulder. You changed the picture.”
Closing Thought
You don’t have to brace alone. Lean in. The image has a way of finding you when you let yourself be held.
