Uploads from rob.knight, with geodata

The approach

nobody@flickr.com (rob.knight) — Sat, 20 Apr 2013 23:37:08 -0700

rob.knight posted a photo:

At a distance.

nobody@flickr.com (rob.knight) — Tue, 02 Apr 2013 15:38:31 -0700

rob.knight posted a photo:

As I write this, I'm sitting in Terminal C, staring past a row of chairs out to the runway, pondering all manner of things as planes lumber into the sky. Everyone is going somewhere. We're all moving.

It's impossible to travel without doing plenty of thinking. Traveling removes you from your home environment and all things normal. When you extract yourself from your normal environment, it's easier to consider the nuances of your everyday life. What does it all look like from a distance? What does it all look like from the outside?

That's one of the reasons I love traveling. It's an opportunity to get a sense of perspective that simply isn't possible to consider as we move about in our day to day lives. You see your patterns, your ways, your thoughts, everything, from a safe distance. A safe enough distance that a portrait of “home you” emerges for you to consider.

And with that perspective, come realizations and new angles with which to see yourself. I always see it as a helpful, if sometimes humbling experience.

It's always helpful to be reminded to know your place, know where you do and don't belong, know where you're going, know why, and know how to get there. Some times those answers do not emerge until you step away from normal-ness for a while.

And then they emerge with a clarity that makes you feel somewhat foolish for not seeing them earlier.

Such is life for fragile souls. You can live your life covered in bubble wrap for protection and never feel the warmth of sunlight on your skin. Or you can choose an unprotected existence with the understanding that sometimes you will be broken. Learning to get back up is one of the most valuable skills there is.

Between the land and your dreams is the sea

nobody@flickr.com (rob.knight) — Wed, 20 Mar 2013 17:36:34 -0700

rob.knight posted a photo:

I guess we can call it the sea of life. And in that sea of life, you get a boat. Some get big boats and some get small boats. Some learn to build bigger boats and some just hop into a bigger boat along the way. Maybe some spend too much time thinking about how to get a bigger boat. Maybe you don't. Maybe you figure it all out along the way. Or maybe when your boat gets into rough seas, someone comes along and helps you navigate.

Maybe someone teaches you how to sail. All of the sudden, the size of your boat no longer matters.

And maybe you never get as far or have as smooth a ride as someone in a bigger boat. But damn, you're going to have one hell of a story to tell at the end.

I imagine some spend their entire lives in a boat with a motor. I've never wanted a boat with a motor. I've got a compass. Let's go sailing.

24 hours later...

nobody@flickr.com (rob.knight) — Fri, 15 Mar 2013 08:45:26 -0700

rob.knight posted a photo:

...a beautiful, fogless Friday by the sea.

Surfing in the soup

nobody@flickr.com (rob.knight) — Thu, 14 Mar 2013 08:57:28 -0700

rob.knight posted a photo:

into the abyss.

March five: Under

nobody@flickr.com (rob.knight) — Tue, 05 Mar 2013 08:27:42 -0800

rob.knight posted a photo:

[note: I renamed this and added it to my March photos. Why? Because I don't know...aliens.]

Under the rising sun, this guy was fishing and asking me if I wanted some of what he was smoking.

Every day is like fishing. You drop your line and see what you get.

8 1/2

nobody@flickr.com (rob.knight) — Fri, 18 Jan 2013 23:53:33 -0800

rob.knight posted a photo:

I *really* wanted to jump in.

Even at a distance, the obvious remains so.

nobody@flickr.com (rob.knight) — Mon, 14 Jan 2013 21:33:42 -0800

rob.knight posted a photo:

Feeling small and humble

nobody@flickr.com (rob.knight) — Thu, 10 Jan 2013 22:15:33 -0800

rob.knight posted a photo:

From my trip to D.C. in September 2010. I definitely felt small and humble on that trip. In all imaginable ways. But I also enjoyed every second.

I actually had to skip this museum, so I snapped this photo as I walked through the rotunda. Before I left, I promised the elephant I'd come back some day.

Blue crush

nobody@flickr.com (rob.knight) — Wed, 09 Jan 2013 21:57:15 -0800

rob.knight posted a photo:

I've always loved that phrase (even before the movie). Blue is beautiful and crush is what it feels like when a plunging wave of reasonable size lands on your head. I love them both. I miss them, but not as much when it's 40°F outside and the water is in the low 50's. Maybe soon.

Obstructed view

nobody@flickr.com (rob.knight) — Sat, 29 Dec 2012 11:28:29 -0800

rob.knight posted a photo:

A careful step

nobody@flickr.com (rob.knight) — Fri, 28 Dec 2012 00:07:37 -0800

rob.knight posted a photo:

Captured in a momentary snap.

A dog at the park

nobody@flickr.com (rob.knight) — Tue, 18 Dec 2012 21:35:36 -0800

rob.knight posted a photo:

One of my favorites from 2012. His mom kept telling him to watch where he was swinging his food. Despite the warnings, it nearly hit me in the face a couple of times, so I had to take a photo of it.

Vine ripe

nobody@flickr.com (rob.knight) — Sat, 15 Dec 2012 22:10:10 -0800

rob.knight posted a photo:

One of my favorites from 2012. A half-flat of the precious. We're fortunate to live in an area of the country where you can pick your own strawberries in the Summer.

With grace.

nobody@flickr.com (rob.knight) — Wed, 12 Dec 2012 23:01:51 -0800

rob.knight posted a photo:

One of my favorites from 2012. They had stopped dancing by the time I got my phone out of my pocket and ready to shoot. So I asked them if they could keep going for a little bit longer while Cat, Nicole and I took photos of them.

I think about this shot often because it was the moment (for me) when my iPhone camera became something more than just the camera on my phone. I knelt in the water and soaked my ankles to get this photo and didn’t think twice about it. I just got the photo I wanted. I doubt I would have done that with my expensive camera.

I know the saying about the best camera being the one you have with you. But sometimes you have to literally get your feet wet (my goodness, sorry for that) to understand what that means. I love having a camera with me where ever I go. It makes me better. Slowly.

Originally posted to Instagram with a different crop and edit.

We'll meet again.

nobody@flickr.com (rob.knight) — Tue, 11 Dec 2012 21:00:18 -0800

rob.knight posted a photo:

One of my favorites from 2012. Salt air, arms tired, head clear. The post-surf lightness of being.

Carved out.

nobody@flickr.com (rob.knight) — Sat, 08 Dec 2012 22:56:40 -0800

rob.knight posted a photo:

The sun was setting on the day after a day I will not forget. There are plenty of reasons you don't forget a day. And at this location I have had many unforgettable days. How could you not, right? This view never gets old, or any less memorable and breathtaking. That is why I find it so difficult to come to this spot and not point my camera straight into the sun. On this day, I blocked the sun. Mostly. But still, I couldn't help pointing my camera in that direction. Sometimes, it just feels like the best photos will come from that direction.

I didn't block the day before this day though. I didn't try to forget it, wash it away, or beg the ocean to cleanse me of it. I vowed to remember it. Remember what was said throughout that day. Remember how I felt. Remember how I responded. Remember each fragment of that day.

I'm sure some of details will fade with time. I hope they do. Memories are like the raw material from which our personalities are crafted. We sculpt our souls as we go. We are the artists of our lives. We cast off what is not necessary as we work toward a better version of ourselves. We carve bridges for our loved ones and wings for our dreams. We make ourselves better by living, loving and laughing. By ourselves and with others.

We do this work on good days and bad, whether the world understands us or not.

Even if we have to miss a meeting...

On the road

nobody@flickr.com (rob.knight) — Sun, 25 Nov 2012 22:27:52 -0800

rob.knight posted a photo:

It took an extra couple of hours to get home, but it was nice to have my brother along for the ride. And it's always nice when your passengers don't mind pulling over for photos.

the known

nobody@flickr.com (rob.knight) — Wed, 21 Nov 2012 09:24:29 -0800

rob.knight posted a photo:

I can't say I've walked this path hundreds of times. But I've definitely walked it tens of times. I start out at the back of our building and walk down Delaware Avenue until I get to the closed gate of Natural Bridges State Beach. I step around the gate and walk down the road, past the museum and beach headquarters. Then I pass the wooden picnic benches adjacent to the parking lot, where there might be a group of school children on a field trip or a group of kids visiting with their parents for the day. Or there might be a couple of people sitting on a bench, talking about this or that. Some times all of the benches are empty.

Sometimes, when no one else is around, I stop and sit on one of the picnic benches for awhile and think about random things. It's a good spot for thinking about random things.

The road continues down and winds to the left with a sharp bend. At the bend, pedestrians turn right and walk onto the sand. The roar of moving water gets louder. It's almost time to see the ocean.

I know this path. It's ingrained. It's familiar. I could probably walk the entire path blindfolded and only fall down on my face a couple of times. Maybe three times. OK, no more than 5 times, total. Definitely less than 10 times.

I suppose that familiarity should make this path less exciting. But it isn't less exciting. There is always something. Once you know a place so well, the smaller, more subtle things start to appear. Tiny special things. Yesterday, it was the golden shiny glimmer, reflecting off the railing of the lifeguard tower.

The strange thing is, I'm not even sure that I actually saw it in the moment. Something about the light, the place and the time compelled me to pull my camera up to my eye and snap this. I had accidentally arrived at just the right moment to catch a moment of light that only appears for a few minutes each day. Lucky me.

Long after the obvious beauty of a place becomes familiar, an endless depth of tacit beauty continues to whisper to your soul, begging you to look for something more. That is the beauty of something known; the beauty of depth.

A wee little lighthouse

nobody@flickr.com (rob.knight) — Mon, 19 Nov 2012 21:46:30 -0800

rob.knight posted a photo:

Way back there. From a crisp August morning a couple of months ago.