Sometimes it is focussing on the small things that helps us deal with the big things.
In the wildflower meadow, I am surrounded by inspiration. All around me are a chorus of crickets, and in the distance a family of rabbits dart into a hedge. I head towards the towering purple meadow thistles that border this haven, and quickly spot a white-tailed bumblebee. Their legs are cased in pollen. I crouch, steady my hands, and focus the lens. I click the shutter, monitor my work, adjust the ISO. Then I click again, and again, ensuring I get the best angle. Right now, in this moment, all that matters is showcasing this bee perfectly.
I have an anxiety condition. It manifests through at least daily panic attacks and a constant feeling of being on edge. Intrusive thoughts arrest everyday activity. It can often become overwhelming and I find myself wanting to hide away. While the condition can be managed, it will always be here in some way or another, lurking. It’s a constant battle but, when I’m having a bad episode, I force myself outside with my camera.
Nature has become a lifeline, a kind of therapy. Wherever you go, big or small, you never know what you’re going to see, and that’s so exciting. My heart rate slows as soon as I hit the treeline that leads to the meadow. The meadow in question is on the outskirts of Coventry, walkable from where I live. My partner found it in 2020, when lockdown forced us all to look a little closer to home to find our escapes. They then introduced it to me when I moved to the area in 2021. It is truly a tiny paradise amongst the noise, both internally and externally.
“Here, with my camera, I become myself again.”
Here, with my camera, I become myself again. There are special moments that only you see. A faceoff between a common red soldier beetle and a honey bee. A heron duck into the wildlife pond before it quickly flies off, just metres away. The whoosh of dandelion seeds as they catch in the breeze, dance, and gently fall to their new homes to begin the process of life all over again. Each and every one of these is its own little moment of bliss.
While you can watch this wildlife without a camera, of course, there is something even more intimate about capturing the scene. You engage not just your mind, but your body as well. Squatting to find the best angle, focussing the camera, clicking the shutter, monitoring what you took, adjusting the settings until you get something that is just right. It takes all your focus to create that one image.
Sometimes you get something incredible. Anytime I manage to get an insect in focus flying through the air, it feels like a triumph. But most of the time, I don’t get anything spectacular. I get similar images to normal-‘fine’ pictures, but nothing outstanding. And that’s okay. While capturing the exact moment you want can make you feel like an expert photographer, it is the process of witnessing and focussing is the real therapy.
When all in my brain is jumbled and overwhelming, spending 30 minutes watching the abundance of wildlife on just one plant puts everything back into focus. It reminds me that we are just a small part of this world, and how much is going on that we never realise. Whether it’s a reserve, or just outside your doorstep, whether you take photos on your phone, or have been a professional photographer for 30 years, you will find something to watch, to capture. Take a moment to just focus and, trust me, you will feel better for it.
Is this something you do? Do you find similar joy in the small things? Let us know below!
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Mel Piper 