We always get used to pointing the camera at the distant scenery, yet often overlook this: the true meaning of taking photos has never been to capture a single beautiful scene, but to coexist with the scenery.
When you stand in the mountain breeze, by the stream, in the jungle, or under the setting sun, those moments when the shutter is pressed not only freeze the scenery, but also preserve the life imprints that belong solely to you.
You are the protagonist of the story
Scenery may repeat, but you never will. The landscapes in the lens are all alike, but you standing in the scenery are one in a million.
We always say that scenery is like a painting, yet we forget that the most touching picture is one where there is always a vivid person in the scenery.
You tiptoeing to catch cherry petals under the cherry tree in spring, you with your skirt fluttering while stepping on water by the sea in summer, you smiling sweetly amid piles of ginkgo leaves in autumn, you breathing out white mist in the snow in winter—in these pictures, the scenery is just the background, and your every move, every frown and smile, are the most precious.
Frame yourself with the scenery, and reconcile with yourself
The world may judge you, but the scenery never will. When you stand in the scenery, even the wind is telling you: you are beautiful just as you are, and you deserve to be loved.
Work pressure, trivial interpersonal relationships, and confusion about the future often make us forget what we are originally like. It was also when I was at the lowest point in my life that I picked up a camera and went out, taking photos of myself in the scenery. Every time I took photos, it felt like I was having a conversation with another version of myself.
I look at the distant mountains, and the distant mountains look back at me; I stand by the river listening to the stream, and the stream responds to me. In the embrace of nature, I let down my guard, release my emotions, and let my true self slowly unfold.
Taking photos is no longer a task, but a form of self-healing. Every time, I can find energy and confidence in taking photos.
Photos are gifts to your future self
Growth is invisible, but photos can capture it. Every image of you standing in the scenery that you take is a time gift for the future.
The you in your twenties standing by the university lake, with confusion and expectation for the future in your eyes; the you in your thirties standing on a city street corner, with a little more tenacity and calmness on your face; the you in your forties standing under the old tree in your hometown, with the tenderness precipitated over time hidden in your heart. These photos of you framed with the scenery together form a growth diary that belongs to you.
Next time you take photos, don’t hesitate to step into the frame, and don’t just take pictures of the scenery. Stand boldly in the scenery. Taking photos of yourself in the scenery is never narcissism, but preparing a time machine for your future self.
People will grow old. I want to look back when I’m in my fifties or sixties at the roads I’ve walked, the scenery I’ve seen, and myself in that scenery. It turns out that I have been carefully recording my life, living well, and loving this world well.
The meaning of taking photos has never been to take a souvenir of the scenery, but to let time remember: you once stood so earnestly in the beauty of the world, becoming a part of the scenery, and also the most touching scene in your own life.
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