I used to go everywhere with a camera hanging from my neck. I’d wear it like a necklace on its strap, picking it up and snapping a few seconds of moments I wanted to keep. I’d go home and rewatch those clips, just me and you, soaking in the beauty of this simple life. It always felt so much bigger in those small moments. Each one was a short film in itself. I saw those on the other side of the lens, saw them so deeply. Together, we fell in love with them.
When I started to have conversations with my Kremmling family about filming here, I wanted it to feel the same way. They encouraged me that, indeed, my camera had always been subtle. No one had really noticed it. But you and I knew that the camera I’d be bringing this summer was much more noticeable. It was a real movie camera, the one we’d used to produce a feature film, red carpet and credits and everything.
And they have noticed it, all right. Three people made comments today. “That’s a mighty big piece of equipment,” says Dennis. A piece of my heart breaks. I don’t know what to say. I’m only here doing this because I’m in love with you, and you’ve asked me to do this. You’ve given me such grand vision, and the beauty of your dreaming fills my heart. But in moments like these, that beauty leaks out through the cracks and I feel . . . disconnected.
You said that the camera would usher in more oneness, not less. I feel like an eight-pound obstacle rests in my hands, in between Dennis and me. How did it become a wall and not an open door? It was supposed to be a way of entering each other’s hearts and yours. And I feel that still it can be.
I nestle into your bosom this afternoon in a nap. You show me the feeling of being one - in heart, soul, mind, and strength. You show me the past week. Tuesday, when we wandered into the church and you embraced me with the camera pointed at me. Thursday, when we set a table for Joy and ventured together into your throne room. I was inside of you. And I was present with those around me.
That’s what was absent today. I was not present. I felt scattered, focused more on the filming I needed to accomplish for Kelsey. It’s a big weekend, with a lot to cover, and I’m doing it because I love her. But you brushed past me today at the nursing home, and I yearned to follow you. We went away for a nap and you reminded me, obedience is better than obligation.
You had fun with me today while I filmed. But we didn’t do it together. I know that.
You don’t regret or reprimand. I feel a twinge of sadness, but far more gratitude. I have tasted the work that you’ve established beforehand for me to walk in. My eyes are open to the immense invitation to abide. We are going back to the feeling of the camera strap, running wild with you, in you, fearless because now filming is only beholding again.
Beholding is easy if we do it together. My eyes don’t have to strain. I think of how many times I tried to predict a moment today and missed it. I laugh. Silly girl, you say. It’s good footage, but I bet it’s not as good as mine.
I scrunch up my nose at you. You really want this bad, don’t you?
I want you, baby.
I grab your hand. Let’s go. Together.