The Philosophy of Waiting
Photography has taught me that patience is not passive. It is an active form of listening, of attuning oneself to the rhythms of the land. "A night View in Tuolumne" reminded me that the mountains does not give itself away easily. It demands persistence, humility, and faith. How did I take so many seasons to find this image in the right-side of my brains?
There is a lesson in that long wait: beauty cannot be forced. It arrives when it chooses, often after years of disappointment, and only when the photographer is ready to receive it. The camera is not the master of the scene — it is the witness of the mind.
When I look at the image now, I see not just aspens and clouds, but the arc of my own life woven into the frame. The decades of return visits, the countless failures, the quiet certainty of that night — all of it is there. The photograph is not just a record of Tuolumne; it is a record of patience, persistence, and the mystery of timing.
