Mental picture memories.

I once read that the best memories are often not captured by the camera.

I think there is much truth contained in that statement. It seems rather ironic that in the midst of a beautiful moment, we find the need to suddenly pull out a small, digital device to help us record that moment, freeze it in time and attempt to render it eternal. I think the need to capture everything worth remembering on camera has a lot to do with man’s love for permanence and the desire to make things last ‘forever’.

This is by no means meant to be an assault on photography.

It’s just that I sometimes wonder whether special moments would be more special if not interrupted by the need to huddle up for a group photograph and smile into the camera as proof of what a wonderful time was being had.

Do you think you would spend more time and effort in creating and later recalling memories if you didn’t have an ‘easy-recall tool’ in the form of a photograph?

Given that such thoughts have occupied my mind, I guess it was rather a blessing when my friend forgot to bring her camera to our retreat in Wales last weekend. I must admit that my initial reaction was one of sheer disappointment. After all, it wasn’t everyday that the four of us spontaneously decided to drive away from the city and spend the weekend in the midst of the Welsh countryside.

However, I quickly got over my disappointment and decided to attempt a slightly different method of capturing my memories of this weekend. Instead of using a camera to take photographs, I would use my mind to create mental pictures of special moments. In other words, I would focus on being in the moment and living each moment as strongly and completely as I possibly could. In doing so, I hoped that the memory of those moments would be firmly etched across my mind and hence stay with me for a long time to come, without any physical evidence such as a photograph.

It seemed slightly odd at first, but pretty soon I was doing it all the time. Take for instance that lazy Saturday afternoon when the four of us were huddled together on the bed, watching films, drinking hot tea and every now and then, glancing at the window opposite us to appreciate what nature was up to- the rumbling grey skies, the pattering raindrops and the bare trees awaiting the advent of spring.

Another mental picture I strongly recall is that long walk we took along a rather isolated beach. I remember closing my eyes and trying to smell the salt in the air, because that is a smell I closely associate with home. I remember learning something about a friend and being amazed at how interesting it is to discover new things about the people close to you. I remember minutes of talk beautifully interspersed with moments of silence. I remember feeling that looking at the ocean often puts things into a strange sort of perspective.

Yet another vivid mental picture I have is that of us walking through the enchanting city of Bath. We strolled past majestic houses, charming churches and streets lined with inviting, little shops. We enjoyed and appreciated the sunshine; our elusive friend whom we knew wouldn’t stay with us for very long. We watched a delightful comedy act which filled the street with laughter. I remember thinking that if a few men dressed in pink tutus could evoke such unadulterated laughter from all of us, perhaps the pursuit of happiness is much simpler than we think it is.

I must admit that without photographs, my world, or at least my bedroom wall would be a much duller place. But if I were to look back on the times when I have been the happiest, the saddest, the most excited, the most vulnerable, or in other words, times when I have experienced any sort of emotion in the extreme- none of those times have been accurately captured in the form of a photograph. So while it might have been nice if my friend had brought her camera to Wales, I don’t think my memories of this fantastic weekend are any less strong because she didn’t. In fact, they might just be stronger.