The Mind Camera
It’s always with me — and with you, too
Frequently, when going out, I forget my smartphone at home.
At first, my hands are confused, grabbing into empty pockets, missing the metal rectangle to fiddle with. Involuntarily, my neck begins to straighten from its usual crooked “staring-at-a-mini-screen“ angle.
Looking up, I start to really see what’s in front of me without trying to capture it through my mobile’s lens. The self-created electronic barrier is eliminated, my environment becomes alive before my eyes, and I relax. Automatically, my mind camera is zooming in.
Walking to the shore, withstanding the salty wind, the mind camera clicks away. The sky appears to be melting into the sea, and infinite shades of blue become one. A work of art created by nature’s paintbrushes and sheer whim. Imperfect perfection, without being retouched or disturbed by artificial filters.
I’m climbing a mountain; the air is getting thinner. Out of nowhere, a majestic eagle is approaching, wings flapping, and starts to circle over my head. I hear its scream and spot its brown feathers. Shuttering lids, my eyes don’t lose a second of this glorious moment, recording real-time pictures.
Walking into a café, the mind camera takes random snapshots of daily life: The artsy flower vase on the wooden table, the bubbly milk froth topping my coffee cup, my husband’s bright eyes glancing at me, a friend’s smile, walking over. Random scenes and minutiae details, saved — for eternity? At least, I’m ready to browse through later, whenever I fancy.
You see, the mind camera is brilliant. Mine and yours. Its power button is rarely off, storage capacity is not an issue, and pictures are brought up again randomly. Triggered by conversations, tunes, and even smells — an internal preview mode kicks in. It invites us to dive deep into colorful images or bittersweet memories and browse our image library.
However, the mind camera gets a bit cranky and blurry with age. We tend to forget we are carrying it, ready to marvel at the most outstanding pictures right here, right now. We fail to see, to observe, to enjoy.
Our seeing orbs may need a magnifying glass to re-sharpen the view, to take it all in again. Or we might require breaks from constant glimpsing, the vision growing tired.
And sometimes, the memory card is getting compromised — by risk of life, by old age, by dementia. My grandma’s mind camera got a mind on its own, often reproducing the oldest — not more recent — photos on-demand only. Then, we share old wisdom, sorrow, and joy.
What never changes, though, is The instant joy of shooting the here and now, seeing life‘s simple pleasures from your unique perspective. And feeling all the emotions — because your mind camera is closely aligned with your heart.